Trojan Horse – Part V: On The Threshold
Nothing to say, just enjoy!
~
Helen was sitting in her room, reading. Or at least holding the book in front of her and trying to concentrate on the words. Madam Pomfrey had said she might as well rest in her own room as in the Infirmary, and so she was sitting here on her own. Her thoughts still would not leave her in peace.
Snape had tried to cause a fuss last week after catching her in the middle of the night, but Madam Pomfrey had barred him from coming anywhere near the Infirmary after he had reduced Helen to tears in about five seconds. For the first time Helen was thankful for the matron's incessant fussing and brisk manner. If it hadn't been for her, anything might have happened. A little part of her almost wished it had, then the burden of decision would be lifted from her. She turned the page of the book before realising that she hadn't actually read a word of it.
There was a soft knock on the door.
'Come in,' she called, putting the book down with relief. Minerva McGonagall entered.
'How are you feeling, Helen?' she asked.
'I'm all right,' she said uncertainly.
Minerva took the seat opposite her. 'Do you think you could teach again on Monday? And probably Tuesday as well?'
'Next Monday?' Helen didn't think she could. Monday was the day that was hanging over her like a sword, the equinox. 'I – I don't know. Why?'
Minerva frowned at her. 'Isn't it obvious?'
Helen shook her head with a sigh. 'I'm afraid not.'
'It's the full moon.'
That didn't mean very much to Helen. 'Does that matter?'
'It does to Remus. He won't be able to teach.'
The implications of Minerva's words did not sink in at once. 'I don't see why … oh.' She looked at the ground. 'You don't mean – he's not a werewolf?'
'That's right. Didn't you realise? I'd have thought your students would have mentioned it, they all know.'
'He's a werewolf?' she repeated stupidly. How could he be? Surely they wouldn't want a werewolf here? She gaped at Minerva. 'What – how come he's teaching here, then?'
'Because he's a good teacher,' answered Minerva simply. 'Albus doesn't mind.'
Helen was shaking her head in disbelief. She thought of Remus' courage in going alone into Stonehenge. Even a werewolf is braver and a better person than I am. Probably a better teacher, too. She stared at the rug on the floor.
'I – I never guessed,' she said after a while.
'That's not the point. What I need to know is, will you be able to teach on Monday, and probably Tuesday as well?'
'I suppose – I guess so.' By Tuesday, she thought, there might not be a school to teach at.
'Are you all right?' asked Minerva in concern, seeing her sudden pallor. 'Perhaps you should go lie down for a bit?'
'Yes,' said Helen faintly. 'I think I shall.' She struggled to her feet and went through to her bedroom.
~
Minerva went along to the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom. As she had expected, Remus was there, looking tired but cheerful.
'Remus, I've spoken to Helen,' she said.
He looked up questioningly from the book he had been poring over. 'How is she? When I went to talk to her the other day she seemed a little better than the last time I saw her.'
'She says she thinks she'll be able to manage teaching on Monday and Tuesday.'
Remus nodded slowly. 'Just as well. I don't think I'd have enjoyed giving practical lessons on werewolves.'
Minerva smiled a little. 'Well, Helen thinks she'll be able to teach by then. I'll be glad when she's better, Severus' comments are starting to drive me up the wall.'
Remus had heard Snape making biting remarks about why Helen was ill, and had ignored them as he had learnt to ignore all the Potions teacher's comments.
'Yes, and I'll stop troubling you lot up here.'
'You're not troubling us,' said Minerva instantly. 'We'd have been in a lot more trouble if you hadn't come. And you are to remember that if you have any problems in that house of yours in Wales you are to ask us for help. Honestly, when I think of you slowly freezing to death up there, I really wonder if I've had any success in teaching any of you a bit of common sense.'
Remus smiled back at her. 'All right, I'll bear it in mind.'
'See that you do.' Minerva glanced at the book he had in front of him. 'Ah, Swindon's 'Theories on the Origin of the Dark Powers.' Is that any good?'
'It's worth a read,' Remus answered, slipping a bookmark into the pages. 'Though I'm not sure whether the sixth years will find it very interesting. I think I'll tie it in to something a bit more tangible, otherwise I'll just be repeating what they've learned from Professor Binns.'
'If they've learned anything from him,' muttered Minerva under her breath. 'Well, you'll find no lack of things to talk about. Most of the arguments about You-Know-Who centre around Swindon's theory, or so I'm told.'
Remus only nodded, looking back at the book. 'The students don't really like discussing Voldemort these days, but I'll see whether I can get them going.'
Minerva flinched at the name, but did not comment. 'I'll leave you to it, then.'
Remus gave her another smile as she left, and then bowed his head over the book, making notes on a scrap of parchment as he read.
~
The afternoon light shone on the desk as Remus sat tiredly in his room. It was lucky Helen had recovered, he thought, or they'd have to find a replacement for him as well. Though she hadn't looked at all well at breakfast. But then, with Snape on her back like that, who could be surprised that she was upset? Still, he was a bit worried that she would be able to manage today and tomorrow's teaching.
Well, there wasn't really anything he could do about it. He went to the window, walking slowly for his legs were a bit shaky, and opened it. After today the nights would be getting shorter. There was that to be thankful for. Winter was always the worst time of the year for him, especially around midwinter when the nights were at their longest.
The light was fading behind the grey clouds that had hung over the country. It seemed the snow had been replaced with continuous rain. He could smell the rainy scent of the air on the breeze that came in the window. Wearily, he crossed to his desk. Even if he couldn't teach today, he could still get some work done.
~
In his dungeon, Snape was carefully stirring a potion. It was requiring all his concentration, this was a potion beyond even the top students of his seventh-year class. And he was glad he had to concentrate so hard. It meant that he didn't have to think about what the potion was for. He watched the cauldron with narrowed eyes, carefully dripping shiny drops from a small phial into the murky mixture. This was the simplified version, and even so it was almost beyond him. He would never have even considered admitting that to anyone, however. He felt a kind of grudging respect for the inventor of it. What a shame she hadn't had any sense in any other area of life.
There was a beauty to the shimmering fluid in the cauldron, as he saw the ingredients interact before his eyes. This was the most wonderful moment in Potions, when he could see the entire recipe slotting into place, every ingredient serving its purpose. And potions didn't get much more beautiful than this one. It was still flawed, however, it had never again reached the perfection the inventor had intended. Snape could see where the improvements were necessary, though it would be beyond his skill to make them. There was a distant look on his face as he worked carefully and methodically, watching the potion with a kind of pleasure.
But then the moment was gone, and the potion was finished. Now he had to take it upstairs. Snape's face closed and darkened. All that work, and all for the werewolf. Deliberately, a bitter smile on his face, he picked up a silver goblet from his shelf. There was no need to make it easy. He poured the Wolfsbane Potion into the goblet and walking with his smooth, gliding stride developed over many years of carrying vessels brim-full of liquids, he left the dungeons and went upstairs.
The corridors were empty, leaving Snape alone with his thoughts. He had only brewed this potion because Dumbledore had wheedled and coaxed and flattered him into it. Left to his own devices, he knew what he'd rather put in this goblet. But that was only a fleeting thought, he knew he would not act upon it. He went up past the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom towards a small office. He did not knock on the door, but pushed it open abruptly.
'Good evening,' said Remus politely. 'Ah, do you have the Wolfsbane Potion? Wonderful. Thank you.'
Snape looked at the untidy heap of papers on the desk with a curled lip.
'Don't keep it very tidy in here, do you?'
Remus only smiled. 'I've never been very good at organising things, I'm afraid. Could you leave it on the table?'
'You have to drink it straight away.' Snape offered Remus the goblet. He took it and winced.
'Couldn't you have put it in something else?' he asked, irritated. Holding the goblet as lightly as he could, for the silver was burning into him, he sipped the potion and set it down with relief on the table.
'Thank you,' he said, trying not to sound angry. 'I'll return you your goblet.'
Snape stood looking at him for a moment, and then spun on his heel and left the room.
After Snape was gone, Remus allowed his face to show his anger and sadness. It had been a long time since anyone had baited him like that. When they were at school, after Snape had found out what he was, he had tormented Remus in just this way. It had been worst when Sirius and James were beating Slytherin at Quidditch, because Snape would take out his frustration on Remus. There was almost nothing he could do to hurt James or Sirius, but he had found Remus an easy target. And so Remus had constantly found small silver objects or leaves from the wolfsbane plant, carefully tucked in amongst his schoolbooks to sting his fingers and make him cry out.
Gingerly, he took up the goblet again. Whenever he touched something silver, it gave him a sensation like an electric shock or holding something very hot. Once when Snape had replaced his usual quill with a silver one, he had been forced to sit an exam with it. He had never had such a bad grade, and his hand had been blistered for days afterwards. He drank the potion in little gulps, putting the goblet down in between sips. It still tasted awful.
The Wolfsbane Potion carried his mind back fourteen years. The memory still brought him pain sometimes, bitter as the taste of the potion on his lips. For a few moments he forgot about the sting of the silver, lost in his thoughts, and he only put the goblet down when he suddenly felt it bite into his hand.
Ruefully, he looked at the reddened skin that was starting to swell a bit, and sucked his fingers for a bit until the pain subsided. Then he picked up the goblet with his good hand and drank the rest of the Wolfsbane Potion in one gulp. At least he had the potion, silver goblet and all.
The door opened and Sirius came in. 'What's that you've got there?' he asked as Remus dropped the goblet onto the table with a ringing clang.
'The Wolfsbane Potion,' Remus explained shortly.
'Oh. Is the full moon tonight, then?'
'Yes.' Remus reached out for his quill, and winced as he picked it up.
'What's the matter?' asked Sirius at once. He crossed the room and saw the marks on Remus' hand. 'What have you been doing, picking nettles with your bare hands?'
'No, just playing the old game with Snape.' Remus could not altogether keep the bitterness from his voice.
'What's he done?' demanded Sirius fiercely. He looked again at the goblet with sudden understanding. 'That slimy, sneaking bag of scum! Did he give you this?'
'He put the Wolfsbane Potion in it.'
Sirius snatched it up. 'I'll show him where he can put his silver goblet,' he snarled, his eyes flashing.
'No, don't,' said Remus hastily. 'There's enough trouble around here without you getting into a fight with Snape. It's all right. He does make the Potion for me, and I can't afford to upset him.'
Sirius turned his angry face on Remus. 'You never will stand up for yourself, will you?' he said roughly. As Remus looked at the ground, Sirius hurled the goblet at the wall with a violent motion. It cracked as it struck and fell to the floor. Sirius looked back at Remus. 'Oh, Moony, I'm sorry. He just makes me see red. I really want to tear him apart into little pieces. You're far more patient than I'll ever be.'
Remus managed a smile. 'Just don't kill Snape. He is useful.'
'That's not the word I'd use,' muttered Sirius. Remus bent to pick up the goblet, which was still spinning on the floor, but Sirius brushed him aside. 'Don't you touch that.' He picked it up himself, running his finger over the crack in the bowl. 'I don't think he'll be using this again. Is your hand all right?'
Remus nodded mutely. The skies were darkening, and a deeper pain was distracting him from his blistered hand.
'It's the spring equinox,' observed Sirius after a minute.
'Yes.' Remus thought that this meant the nights would be shorter from now on. 'Sirius, I think you'd better go now.'
'Okay.' Sirius knew Remus preferred to be alone when he transformed. 'Do you want me to come back later?'
'No, better not. I'm supposed to be a teacher, setting a good example.' Remus mustered a smile. 'In the holidays we can go out during the full moon.'
'All right. Then I'll see you tomorrow.'
Remus nodded. After Sirius had left the room, he went through to his bedroom and cast himself down with relief on the bed to wait.
~
All the castle had fallen asleep, even the pictures were dozing quietly in their frames. In her room, Helen paced around. She had almost worn a hole in the carpet with her incessant pacing and worrying. She couldn't go ahead with this. She couldn't.
But was there really a choice? If she failed them, the punishment would be too great, too awful even to imagine. And what would Dumbledore do to her, if she went to him now and told him? She'd go straight to Azkaban.
This is wrong, her mind was saying angrily. This is wrong. Will you turn this safe haven over to Voldemort, even for Laura and Paul? But there was only one answer to that question. She had to do it. It'll all be over soon, and Laura and Paul will be safe, she told herself.
But still she hesitated. She thought of how kind Minerva had been, about the students she had been teaching today, and she swallowed hard. She went to the window and opened it. It was still cold, but clear now. Tomorrow would be a beautiful day – if there was a tomorrow. The full moon glinted on the lake, all was tranquil and quiet. Helen put her head in her hands, leaning out the window. A shiver ran over her spine.
If only none of this had happened … if only she had never married him … if only, if only. It doesn't help, she told herself fiercely. The only thing that matters is what you're about to do. For she was going to do it. It was the only way out of this mess. The clock was counting the seconds away, only her heartbeat seemed louder than its merciless tick … tick … tick.
Soon it would be midnight, and all this would be over. Everything would be over. She took out her black cloak and wrapped it around her shoulders. She was trembling again, and her vision was a little blurry. Slowly, she went to the door of her room and began to walk down the corridor.
~
Outside the window came a rustling noise that was not the dead leaves. The werewolf's keen ears pricked up and Remus woke from his doze, wondering what was going on. He was certain that he could hear the sound of feet outside. He turned eyes that could see perfectly in the dark towards the clock. It was nearly midnight. There shouldn't be anyone around outside. He thought suddenly of his own days as a student, outside and roaming the grounds at times when this was definitely not allowed, and would have smiled if he could.
But now he was a teacher, he was certainly not supposed to allow students to wander around the grounds at night. He slipped off the bed where he was lying and paced across the room. He heard another sound. Outside the door, someone was walking past, very slowly. It sounded as if the person was talking to himself. Remus could not quite make out the words, but the tone sounded oddly empty and tired. Concerned and curious, he went to the door of his room and looked at it for a moment with irritation. It had seemed the most sensible thing to do to bolt it before the transformation, but now he wished he hadn't.
After a few minutes of silent struggling, trying to grip the bolt with his teeth and prise it loose, he managed to get the door open. He could hear the person's footsteps clearly through the corridor, and he could smell their scent in the air. He walked in the shadows, hoping that nobody would see him. Even completely harmless as he was, a werewolf roaming the school at night could only cause trouble.
It only took him a few moments to get close enough to be sure of who it was moving through the corridors of the school at night. He went as close as he dared. Helen's breathing was rapid and irregular, he could smell the fear on her. What on earth was going on? There was something strange outside, and Helen wandering around in here scared out of her wits. Perhaps she was sleepwalking? Remus knew that if he went down a certain side passage, he would come out ahead of her. He ran down it, and around the loop. Helen was approaching, walking slowly. She stopped not far from where he was concealed. Even in the dark passage he could see her face clearly, and on it he could read great pain. There was no doubt that she was awake.
'Why did you have to do this to me? I can't make this choice.' Her voice was no louder than the rustling of the leaves outside. Remus cursed that he was in the wolf-form. If he was human, he could step out and ask her what was troubling her. But if he revealed himself like this, he would only terrify her all the more. Perhaps he should go and get Sirius or Minerva or someone. Perhaps Madam Pomfrey – she would not be fazed by a werewolf showing up in the middle of the night. Helen took a long shaking breath and began to walk on down the corridor. She went past a window, and the moonlight turned her face a ghastly white.
Remus followed her again, trying to puzzle out what was going on. She stopped again at the window and peered out into the darkness. Her spine went rigid and she pulled back.
'He's here.'
Something about her tone chilled Remus' blood, and his hackles rose. It was only with difficulty that he stopped himself from uttering a low growl. Who could 'he' be? As he followed her again, he wished he could see out the window. Perhaps he should go for help. Helen stopped again, and stood staring into the darkness. She was at the top of the stairs that led down to the West Door, the main entrance to the school.
Taking a deep breath, she spun around on her heel. Remus melted into the shadows at once, watching.
'I will not,' she murmured, a little more loudly. 'I don't care what he does.'
He watched her as she stood tall and resolute for a moment, as she took a step back down the corridor. There was something very peculiar going on here. Straining his every sense, he could hear faint noises on the other side of the door. Then suddenly amidst those strange whispering sounds, he heard an clear and unexpected voice.
'Is mummy in there?'
A child, a boy, outside the door. Remus' fear melted away. A child could do no harm. Though why he was there was anybody's guess. The sound made Helen clutch at the banister. Remus crept closer and closer. Helen had slumped across the rail and held her head between her hands. For a moment Remus wondered if she'd been taken ill again. He watched her with concern, as she twisted a lock of her hair around her finger and pulled on it almost without realising. Her breathing was ragged.
'I'm sorry,' she gasped. 'I'm sorry,' and for a moment Remus thought she was speaking directly to him. Then she pushed herself away from the banister and began to walk down the stairs.
Remus followed again, his mind racing. Whatever could be going on? He could guess whose the child was – that's odd, I didn't know Helen was married, he thought suddenly. Perhaps … but his train of thought got no further than that. Helen put her hand on the West Door. He watched her as she pulled away the bronze bolts that resisted attack by magic and rested her hand on the latch. For a moment she stopped again, and leaned her head against the great door. Remus waited.
Then she pushed down the latch and pulled on the door. It creaked slowly open. Remus moved so that he would have a clearer view, slinking unnoticed in the shadows. Beyond Helen, he saw two children with a man holding their hands, one on each side. And around the man were tall dark shapes. Remus felt the sudden cold beat against him, and knew all at once who was there. For a moment he stood frozen, horrified and afraid.
'Enter,' said Helen in a tone so weak it was scarcely audible. Then she pushed through the shadows to the children standing on the doorstep. One dark form began to move towards the door. Frozen no longer, Remus sprang forwards, steely muscles coiling in the wolf's body. Helen was a traitor, she had given Voldemort permission to enter Hogwarts! He did not leap for the shadows outside; instead he flung himself at the door. The force of his impact slammed it shut, and there was a shout of anger from outside.
Remus picked himself off from the floor dazed, knowing that Voldemort would not give up so easily. He did the only other thing he could. Raising his head, he gave a long and wild howl. And another, and another. The door shuddered, and he could hear sleepy and puzzled voices upstairs. He howled again.
But Voldemort had permission to enter the castle from someone inside, and that could not be taken away. Remus heard a high-pitched scream outside, and pounding footsteps on the stairs. The West Door burst open again with a terrible crash, and Remus was flung backwards.
In a rush like a gale, the shadowy black figures swept into the entrance hall. Remus could see at once which was Voldemort. In a hopeless, wild attack, he sprang for the man's throat, silvery teeth gleaming. Voldemort was thrown to the floor by the impetus of his charge, muttering spells to break the wolf's hold. Remus did not have time to feel any revulsion at what he was doing, or anything at all but the mad urgency of his attack. If this was the only way he could stop him … but a barrage of fierce and powerful spells was striking at him, and the grip of his jaws was loosened.
Around him other people were materialising, and from the corner of his eye he saw a flash of bright light that could only be Dumbledore, standing unexpectedly tall at the top of the stairs. He caught a glimpse of Sirius with upraised wand as Voldemort spoke another angry spell. Remus fell limp across him. Voldemort pushed away the wolf's still body and rose up like a snake to strike.
~
TO BE CONTINUED
The next part is coming…. Until then, reviews are very welcome.
Blaise
12th April 2000