When Remus got to the Leaky Cauldron, Reesa was already there, seated at a table in the corner. Remus sighed; he'd been hoping, without really admitting to himself that he was, that Reesa would not show up. He ordered a glass of butterbeer and brought it over to where Reesa was sitting. She looked at him and smiled.
"Bit early to be drinking, isn't it?" she asked pleasantly. He frowned back at her and sat down.
"Butterbeer," he said brusquely. "You'd have to be a house elf to get drunk on this stuff."
"You can always tell a Hogwarts graduate that way," she said, idly. "Probably nostalgia, I suppose, remembering 'the best time of their lives'." She said this with a scornful note in her voice. Remus wondered why. She said nothing further.
"I've spoken with Dumbledore," he said finally, since she made no move to bring the matter up.
"And?" she prompted after a moment.
"And – what exactly do you want from us?" Remus asked, guardedly. A quick smile, almost of triumph, crossed her face; apparently she felt she'd won.
"I want out," she said simply. "I want enough money that I can live decently, a new identity, preferably in another country. I know the Ministry can do that easily enough – isn't that right?"
Remus nodded. "Not easily, but possible. That's what you want? A new life?"
"Exactly." She was looking at him, but her eyes were slightly unfocused, as if she were seeing something he could not. "Remus, you don't understand. All my life, people have known what I am, that my mother was a Siren, and they've treated me like I was – was less than human. The only people who didn't were people like you, who I lied to, who didn't know what I was, and – and the Dark Lord's people. When my brother started trying to recruit me, he had me spend a lot of time with his friends, and they treated me the way they treated each other, even though they knew what I was! It was so wonderful for me… I was young, innocent, I thought they really meant what they said, that they were interested in helping all magical peoples, even though I already knew they didn't like Mud – I mean, Muggle-borns." She looked at him, then away. "I really believed it them.. but afterwards, after You-Know-Who had gone, I saw more what they were really like… they didn't care about helping people like me at all, all they wanted was what I could do for them. And I'm sorry I ever helped them. Remus, I'm sorry for what I did to you." There was a tear in her left eye; Remus couldn't help but feel a brief flash of sympathy for her.
"So why are you with them now?" he asked roughly.
"I – I'm afraid of them," she confessed in a low voice. "My brother went to Azkaban years back, but he escaped with the others, and he scares me more than any of them except – except You-Know-Who. He –my brother – he threatened me, said he'd kill me if I didn't help them." She gulped. "That's why I came to you, Remus. I knew it was dangerous, but I don't want to help them. I just want to get away – and if I can help your side out, well, I'd like that too."
Remus looked at her, considering, for a long moment. Her story had struck chords in him. He, after all, knew what it was like to be an outcast, a sub-human. He knew that Voldemort was capable of saying anything to get someone he could use on his side, and his Death Eaters were the same way. But he also knew that it was quite possible that Reesa was once again a spy, manipulating him the way she had all those years ago, but in a slightly more subtle way. She might know he was a werewolf, that he had faced prejudice all his life.
He mentally shook his head to clear his thoughts, then focused on Reesa again. She was waiting for his answer.
"All right. That's what you want. Now, what can you offer us?" He knew his words sounded harsh, but he wasn't feeling very charitably toward Reesa. He didn't trust her at all; she'd given him no reason to do so.
"I can give you inside information," she began. "I'm not high in the councils of You-Know-Who," Good, thought Remus, At least she's not trying to make it seem she's important when she's not. "My brother tells me things now and then, when he's – when he's drunk, usually." She shuddered. "He drinks a lot, you see, to shut out the – the memories, and his eyes, his eyes are dead." Remus thought instantly of Sirius' cold, empty eyes and felt a jolt of sympathy toward Reesa, until he reminded himself that both she and her brother deserved whatever punishments they had been given. "My brother is high up, he talks about the inner circle all the time. He mentions names, I can give those to you."
"Unfortunately, whatever evidence you can give will doubtless be called into question," Remus pointed out. "However, unofficially, that sort of information could be useful. What else?"
"I know things about their plans, sometimes, particularly if I'm to help them. I can find out more, but it'll be dangerous."
"You want a lot from us," Remus reminded her.
"Yes, of course. Safe houses, places You-Know-Who has for our meetings, where the convicts hide out. I know a lot of them, people like me who aren't very important, we get assigned to bring supplies in and keep the spells up."
"That's more promising," Remus said. "What about Voldemort's headquarters? Can you help us get into that?"
"I can try," she said, paling, though whether from the idea or the mention of Voldemort's name, Remus couldn't say. "I – oh, no!" Her voice dropped and her face went as white as a ghost. "Don't look behind you, but there's a man who just walked in who knows me, he works for the Dark Lord too. If he sees me with you, I'll be killed!"
Remus thought quickly, chancing a glance behind him. Sure enough, he recognized the man behind them as Walden McNair, who was on the Committee for the Disposal of Dangerous Creatures and who, according to Harry's testimony, was on Voldemort's inner circle. He did not seem to have noticed them yet, but he would, unless Remus did something quickly.
"All right. You stay here or –no, you go out first. Try not to attract his attention. Then if he did see you, and you're asked about it, just say you were there and I sat down, and –well, you can embellish however you like."
"Thank you." She looked very relieved as she stood up, but she pulled her cloak up to hide as much of her face as she could anyway. "We should change where we meet, though. Be at Flourish and Blotts three days from now just before closing."
"I'll be there," Remus promised, and watched as she hurried from the room. He kept his eye on McNair. Why was the man here? His own business? Pleasure? Or was he here to keep an eye on Reesa, and if so, why? To make sure she did as ordered? Or was she sincere about wanting out, and did they suspect? There was no telling.
He finished his drink off, sat for another three minutes, then got up. Halfway to the door, he paused and reconsidered, then turned and went out back to the entrance to Diagon Alley. He was going to see Harry off tomorrow at King's Cross, and he thought it might be nice to give him a gift… especially since he'd missed Harry's birthday. His thoughts cheered him considerably, though he still felt drained from his meeting with Reesa. Smiling, he tapped the brick and entered the busy street.
~~
Sirius already had reservations at a Muggle hotel; they had no trouble 'checking in', as the guidebook informed them the correct phrase was, but there nearly was a problem afterwards. Sirius put his foot down hard when Jenny said she'd go with him "on whatever mysterious errand Dumbledore's sent you on."
"No, you won't," he said. "It's bad enough you came this far, but Dumbledore was quite firm that I wasn't to tell anyone, other than the American Secretary of Sorcery, the message he gave me."
"You've got me dying of curiosity here now," she said, "but that's beside the point. How do you know they won't recognize you? And do you really think they'll let you see the whoever he is?"
"Secretary, Jenny. And I've got a few ideas."
"Fine," she said. "Fine. I'll sit here and write more articles." She glared at him. "And when you get back, tail between your legs – actually, that's not a bad metaphor, for you." She almost smiled there, but stopped herself and sat down, glaring at him once more. "Go on then, but I'm telling you, I'm going to tell you-"
~~
"I told you so." Jenny smiled sweetly. "Didn't I? You've been gone for what, four hours, and you didn't see the Secretary."
"No, I didn't see the bloody Secretary," Sirius growled. It had begun to rain after he'd left, and when he got back to the hotel he was soaked.
"Let me guess. I don't think they recognized you, I doubt most American wizards have even heard of you, so I'd say they've got about as much red tape here in the US as back home at the Ministry."
"That's about the size of it," Sirius agreed. "I got sent through one department after another, looking for any way to get to the Secretary, but apparently he doesn't see anyone without an appointment except 'Second Thursday every month-'"
"From ten to two, just like home," Jenny guessed. Sirius nodded. "Bureaucracy's the same everywhere – I hear the Muggles have it even worse. So, ready to admit that you need me?"
"If you have a suggestion, I'll listen," Sirius said wearily, running his fingers through his damp hair.
"First –why didn't Dumbledore just sent this message or whatever by owl post?"
"I'm not entirely sure I should tell you that," Sirius began.
"Sirius, if you can't even trust me! Look, if you need me to help you, you should at least tell me what you're doing."
"You're right; if I can't trust you I can't trust anyone." He thought for a moment, then began again. "It's not just a message, Jenny. It's an offer of alliance between us and the Americans, against Voldemort. There was nearly something similar toward the end of – well, last time, but Voldemort's disappearance happened before it went through. Dumbledore's made me the de facto ambassador to the United States; he'll back up whatever I get the Secretary of Sorcery to agree to, but I have to see the man in person to negotiate and work out the agreement."
"I see," Jenny said levelly. "Yes, I see why Dumbledore wouldn't want Voldemort or the Death Eaters to find out. Imagine if someone tried to put the Imperius Curse on you, to get the terms of this treaty more to Voldemort's liking."
"Exactly," Sirius said, the lines of his face hard. "We know that there are Death Eaters here in the United States, and it's possible some of them are working for the government, so I can't announce anything like my real purpose."
"Yet you've got to see the Secretary." Jenny seemed to ponder this for a while. "Hmm. Perhaps I do have an idea."
~~
Platform Nine and Three-Quarters was packed, of course –it always was on September First. Remus wandered a bit, looking for Harry and remembering the seven years he'd gone to Hogwarts on this very train, seven of the happiest years of his life. And, of course, the one year he'd gone back as a teacher…. A number of students recognized him waved at him. A smaller number saw him and pointed him out to their parents, frowning. He did his best to ignore these.
"Professor Lupin!" He looked around and saw Hermione Granger behind him, dragging her trunk after her. "It's great to see you! Are – are you going to be our Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher again?"
"I'm afraid not, Hermione," he said, smiling. "I don't know who you'll have, but I hope you'll have better luck with him than with your last few. Now, I was looking for Harry."
"He's with the Weasleys; they aren't here yet." She smiled at him, and he noticed that her teeth were much smaller than they had been. "They usually show up about five minutes before the train leaves."
"I see." Remus was going to say more but just then the Weasley twins popped through the barrier like a pair of jack-in-the-boxes.
"Professor Lupin!" they chorused. "Are you coming back? We hope so."
"No, I'm not." Remus couldn't help smiling almost as widely as the twins; their enthusiasm was contagious, just as James and Sirius had been years ago.
Then Ron and Harry appeared after them; Ron's mouth popped open and Harry grinned more broadly than Fred and George.
"Professor Lupin!" Harry and Ron both left their trunks and joined the small throng around Remus.
"Are you coming-" Ron began, and Remus shook his head for the third time.
"I'm afraid not, Ron. I just came to see Harry off."
"That's great too," Harry said, glancing around. "Ah, did Sirius?" He let his question trail off.
"Sirius is doing something for Dumbledore right now," Remus replied. "He asked me to come for him, though." He gave Harry a package, and Harry stared at it.
"What is it?" he asked.
"A late birthday present for you." Remus looked around at all the happy faces and wished that he was going with them to teach them. "I just wanted to wish you a good term."
"Well, I'm sure it'll be better than last term," Harry remarked, and Remus saw something behind his words, something sad. He realized that Harry had grown up in the past year, grown up quite a bit, and wasn't sure what to say. He put his hand on Harry's shoulder.
"I don't think I told you this," he said quietly, "But what you did last year – your father would have been proud of you. Your mother too."
Harry smiled, a bit sadly, and nodded. After that there was really nothing to say. Remus helped them load their trunks, animal cages, and other belongings into an otherwise empty care, then waved as the scarlet engine began to chug off.
"It's always a bit hard to watch them off," said a voice at his elbow. He turned and saw Mrs. Weasley there, her handkerchief in hand. "Wondering whether they behave, and do well, and, well, this year seems worse than other times…"
"Yes," Remus agreed. "Suppose it must have been rather the same when my parents saw me off; You-Know-Who was starting to gain a lot of power in my last few years."
"Yes, I know." Mrs. Weasley sighed. "Sometimes I wonder if Harry can really know what he's been facing, since he doesn't remember those days…"
"I think he knows," Remus said softly, watching the train fade into the distance. "I think that Harry knows a lot better than most people."
~~
"May I help you?" A pretty young receptionist looked up from her desk, smiling. She saw a woman, no longer young, dressed a bit flashily and carrying a notebook, a large purple quill, and a wand.
"Yes." Jenny smiled and flashed a card. A little work had made it look authentic to any but the most severe scrutiny, and her false identity was all worked out. "I'm Rita Skeeter, a journalist from England, and the Daily Prophet sent me here to write a piece about the way you operate over here. My readers just love hearing about foreign countries, you know."
"Oh." The girl looked impressed. "I see, Ms. Skeeter. Well, how may I help you?"
"Thank you so much, Iris." Jenny read the girl's nameplate and smiled. "I was just wondering if you could give me some information about which departments are in the building, and I'll go from there."
"I see." The girl began to pick up some papers, but then her eyes fell on the great black dog by Jenny's side. "I'm afraid dogs aren't allowed in here, Ms. Skeeter."
"Oh, I'm sorry." Jenny flashed another smile. Good thing this woman doesn't know the real Rita Skeeter, she thought to herself. "I like to bring him along on my interviews and such. Sometimes I interview rather shady people and he makes me feel so much safer, he looks so threatening, don't you think?" She rumpled the dog's ears. "Still, my Snuffles wouldn't hurt anyone." The dog growled just a bit, as if in protest to some or all of this last statement. "Are you sure he can't come?"
"I'm afraid so." Iris tried not to smile, apparently amused at the thought of a dog like this being named 'Snuffles'. "He'll have to stay outside."
"I understand." Jenny turned and led the dog toward the door. As she opened it, she lost her grip on her purse, which fell and hit the ground. A large puff of brightly colored smoke appeared from it, obscuring everything for a moment; then it dissolved and she shut the front door.
"I'm so sorry about that smoke," she said as she crossed back to Iris' desk. "My last interview was at a joke shop. I must have forgotten to get rid of all the smoke bombs and such, but it's harmless."
"Oh, that's no problem," Iris said, and gave her a brief rundown of what went on in this building, not really listening but making perfunctory notes now and then.
Meanwhile Sirius had, under cover of the smoke, padded up the marble stairs. It was quite here; everyone seemed to be in his office and the doors were all closed. No one noticed the dog. At the end of the hall was the office he was looking for, the one that belonged to the Secretary of Sorcery. It was slightly ajar and easy to push open with his nose; he stuck his head around the corner.
The office was completely empty. Puzzled, he withdrew his head and looked at the nameplate. Yes, this was the Secretary's office. Then he noticed something he hadn't before, as it was well above his current eye level; a sign, made of cardboard and hung on the door with a piece of string, a child's crayon drawing of a happy face and some flowers, bearing the words 'Gone Out, Backson.'
Sirius, of course, didn't know that the Secretary was a devoted father who displayed his daughter's artwork everywhere, nor that said daughter was six and a devotee of 'Winnie the Pooh', where the sign's motto had come from. All he knew was that, apparently, all his and Jenny's planning had been in vain, because the Secretary wasn't there and he could hear footsteps approaching.
"Hey you!" A man carrying a large cup of coffee came out of one of the offices and stared at Sirius. "Get out of here, you mutt!"
Sirius growled at him but headed for the stairs; behind him he heard the man following. "Hey! Who let this mangy dog in?"
A moment later about six more people popped out of offices to watch.
"I'm allergic to dogs!" one woman shouted, and emphasized this with a sneeze. "Get it out now!" Two men eagerly headed after Sirius.
"Catch it, Bob," one suggested. "See if it's that crazy Wilma bringing her menagerie in again. If it is, she'll be fired for sure."
"Great; if it's not, I'll take it to the pound; my son works there weekends, you know, his girlfriend's nuts over animals." While they were chatting they'd been cornering Sirius, who was growling and raising his hackles. Too bad Prongs wasn't here to help out. He'd have to get out of here before they caught him.
"Snuffles! How'd you get here?" Jenny was behind the men, doing her best to give off the impression that she didn't have a clue how her big, lovable puppy had caused such an uproar. Behind her the receptionist stood glaring. "I'm so sorry, I don't know how he got inside," Jenny said. "We'll just be on our way."
Jenny led Sirius from the building and down the street until they found a deserted alley where Sirius transformed.
"No luck?" Jenny asked, and Sirius shook his head.
"All that, and the Secretary wasn't there!" He sighed. "I've only got one idea left. We've tried working through the red tape, and we've tried getting around it – now I say let's just ignore it."
"What do you mean? What are you planning?" Jenny looked rather apprehensive; Sirius grinned in a very unreassuring way.
"Not much. We just kidnap him." He said this as if it were the most reasonable thing on earth. Jenny opened her mouth, made a few strangled noises, closed it, frowned, and opened it again.
"I really, really hate to say this," she began, looking away from him. "But that's actually not a bad idea." She glanced at him as if daring him to say anything, then went on. "I suppose you've got some sort of scheme worked out?"
"Yes, I do. All we have to do –assuming you're in on this?" He cocked an eyebrow in query.
"Of course I am." She sighed. "Let's hear it."
"Right. Once we've got this Secretary, I can explain that Dumbledore sent me and everything. We should watch him for a few days, figure out his routines, and then we can actually make plans for how to actually, ah, kidnap him." Sirius was grinning. "It might be-"
"Don't you dare say fun," she warned. "It's certainly a better plan than trying to cut through more red tape." She shook her head. "Sometimes I wonder if I knew what I was getting myself into when I married you."
~~
Three days later, Secretary of Sorcery William Thurston – 'Thirsty Bill' to his old friends – came down the marble steps of the Federal Department of Wizardry building in Washington DC.
Thurston walked briskly down the streets toward a jewelry shop; his wife's birthday was the next day and he had to pick up her present, a diamond necklace. After paying for the necklace, he began walking toward the nearest Metro station. As Secretary it was his job to encourage people to do as the FDW asked by following their requests himself. The announcement that all wizards were asked to use Muggle transportation if possible for the rest of the summer had been brought on by an unprecedented amount of magical traveling this year, and the Bureau of Magical Transportation just couldn't handle it… besides, Apparating gave him such a headache.
"Excuse me, sir." Thurston turned to see a woman beside him. "You'd be Mr. Thurston, wouldn't you?" She had a foreign accent but was wearing the latest in American wizarding fashion; a high hat bedecked with little sparkling flowers.
"Yes, I am. Can I help you with anything?" He sincerely hoped this wasn't another mother pleading with him to give her Bobby a job – he'd had enough of those recently.
"Oh, thank you sir. I've been so upset – I was trying to find my way home from shopping, but these Muggle streets are so hard to figure out, and then I saw you and thought, 'Well, a lady can certainly ask a gentleman like you for help', now, can't I? I've even got a map, but I just haven't got the least clue where I am…" The woman went on babbling and Thurston held up a hand to halt the flow.
"If you have a map, ma'am, I can certainly show you where you are, and possibly how to get to your home."
"Oh good. I put all my shopping down over there – it's such a great deal, you know." She led him over to a number of bags and began looking at them doubtfully. "I know it's here… not that one – ah, I think it's in there." She began to reach for it but the Secretary smiled graciously.
"Allow me," he said, and grabbed the handle. The next second, he was jerked forward off his feet. Portkey! he thought to himself, alarmed. In another second, he lurched to a stop. It obviously hadn't been a long trip.
"Don't," a male voice said as he began to reach for his wand. The Secretary turned slowly. He seemed to be in a Muggle hotel room; behind him, leaning against the bed and half smiling was a dark haired man whose face looked vaguely familiar. A moment later, there was a pop and the woman from the street appeared in the room, smiling and looking not a bit vague. She pulled the hat from her head and glared at it.
"I must say, Mr. Thurston, American women must be awful gooses. The man in the shop said these were all the rage but I assure you they're the most ridiculous thing I've ever seen."
"You!" Thurston raged. "If you think this is a joke – do you know who I am?"
"Of course we know who you are," the man said calmly. "You're the Secretary of Sorcery."
"I insist you let me out of here this instant." Thurston pulled himself up to his whole six foot three, which was still a good half-head shorter than the man in front of him. "I assure you, the Department of Wizardry doesn't take kindly to this sort of thing!"
"We just wanted a word with you," the man explained. "Look, if you'll listen to me we'll let you go in five minutes, but there's an awfully important message that Dumbledore gave me for you."
"Professor Dumbledore?" Thurston stared. Whatever he had expected, it wasn't this. "Albus Dumbledore, the Supreme Mugwump, the Headmaster of Hogwarts?"
"Yes, that's him," the man agreed. "Anyway, it was too important to be trusted to owl. I'd have just come to see you at your office but unfortunately I'm, ah, dead, so it might have caused a stir."
Thurston suddenly recognized the man. "You're – you're Sirius Black, aren't you?"
"Guilty," he said, twirling his wand around. "If you've heard that much, you might have heard I'm actually not a mass murderer, a traitor, or working for Voldemort – oh, you do that same flinching-at-the-name thing here as in England, that's interesting."
The Secretary tried very hard not to stare at Black, or his wand, which he kept twirling idly. "What message?" he asked at last.
"Dumbledore's pretty sure Voldemort's got an operation going in America, too, Death Eaters and such." Black looked very grim as he said this.
"We suspect the same." This came out very stiffly.
"Yes, I suppose you do. Dumbledore also thinks that Voldemort, or his agents, are going to be attacking you soon, too, and so he's sent me with an offer of alliance."
"Alliance?"
"You help us, we help you, we share all the information we have about Voldemort, our agents work together rather than separately…" Black shrugged. "You're the government official here, not me, you know more about these things."
"How do I know Dumbledore really sent you?"
Black grinned and pulled a folded-up piece of parchment out of his pocket; it bore the Hogwarts seal, unbroken. "Dumbledore thought you might say that, and says that this will prove it." He handed the paper to the Secretary, who read it and nodded.
"All right, I believe you."
"So will you accept?"
"I can't say that yet. I have to talk to a lot of different people first. I can get in contact with you when I can say…."
"All right; we'll stay here then, as I don't suppose you'll be arresting us."
"No, though I would have preferred a more usual way of getting my attention." The Secretary gestured at the door. "May I use it?"
"Certainly."
The Secretary left, all the while feeling the eyes of the two others in the room boring into his back. It made him very uncomfortable.
~~
Flourish and Blotts was rarely crowded, except in the last few weeks of August, and when they had a celebrity signing books, but around closing time there were eight or nine wizards browsing the shelves. Remus busied himself in stacks of books on monsters; there was a very interesting new one on vampires and another, to Remus' dismay, on werewolves. Out of morbid curiosity, he picked the werewolf book up and flipped through; he had to laugh at a few things, such as the author's peculiar idea that werewolves had pointed, furry ears no matter what phase of the month it was, and found its viewpoint incredibly biased… of course. Perhaps he should think of writing to the publisher and pointing out a few of the flaws.
He was interrupted by someone bumping into him, causing him to drop his book. He turned, stooping to pick it up, and was a bit startled to see Reesa, though of course he had expected her.
"I," he began, but her face was full of fear and silenced him.
"Sorry for bumping into you," she said. "Didn't see you. Is this yours?" She held out another book which he had not been looking at; he opened his mouth to say no, then saw how desperately she was glancing from him to it and back.
"Yes, that's right," he agreed, taking the book from her. She sighed and turned, hurrying off to a section full of books on Herbology.
Remus waited a few minutes longer, then flipped Reesa's book open. Inside was a blank envelope; he slipped it into his pocket, then went to the front where he bought the werewolf book, just in case anyone was watching him.
Back at his house, he opened the envelope. A single piece of parchment fell out.
Remus – I'm being watched. I don't dare say more than a few words to you. I'll be outside the Leaky Cauldron, on the Muggle street, at midnight tomorrow night. Please be there, I'm taking a dreadful risk.
That was all there was. Remus sat back and thought. It could easily be a trap – but to what purpose? To capture him? He knew very well that he wasn't very important. And Reesa might really have something important to tell him.
He decided that he would go, but be armed. And he was going to leave a note here, for Sirius, just in case.
To be continued, of course. You know to whom this belongs. And, in response to a review from the last piece: No, I've never been to England, though I really want to go. The reason I am able to write the dialogue accurately is that my beta reader, Blaise, is English and will tell me if a character is speaking American!
KB