The Farther Shore: Part III – Metamorphoses
The title is from Ovid.
Metamorphoses is his wonderful poem, for those of you without a classical education. Read it! Ted Hughes has done a good translation. (Actually, the Amores is better, but that's beside the point.)
Disclaimer as usual. J K Rowling owns it all, except for Andrea and Altair. No breach of copyright intended.
May you gain as much pleasure from reading this story as I had in writing it.
~
There was a clamour of loud bells, and Andrea looked expectantly at the mirror that hung above her desk. It clouded over, and then the troubled face of Minerva McGonagall appeared in it.
'Andrea, at last,' she said, her voice tense. 'I tried earlier, but you weren't in.'
'I was in the Hall,' replied Andrea, looking concernedly at her friend. 'We had an emergency.'
'Yes, well, you've got to come up to Hogwarts at once. You-Know-Who has found out about the Achilles Project, and you're in danger. Don't take any risks, don't wait around, come at once. The others are on their way already.'
Andrea caught her breath sharply. 'How? We were taking every precaution.'
'We don't know. Just come here, straight away.' There was a crackle, and her image flickered. Andrea put a hand on the frame of the mirror, murmuring something, and it came back into focus.
'I'll be there as soon as I can,' she said, and broke off the connection. Then she flung something in the fire. 'Cathy. Catherine Lewis,' she called.
There was a rush of green flames, and a small, dark-haired woman climbed from the heart of the fire dizzily.
'What's the matter?' she asked at once, looking at Andrea's nervous face.
'I've got to go to Hogwarts. I don't know how long I'll be. Vol – You-Know-Who is coming after me. You'll be in charge until I get back,' she said succinctly.
Catherine Lewis, who was her deputy at the Hall, looked over her shoulder automatically, and Andrea forced a smile. 'I'm all right for the time being. And it'll be safe here once I'm gone. If there's another emergency, I'll come as usual.'
She picked up her wand, and leaving Cathy standing in her office, dashed up to where she had a flat at the top of the Halls. As she flung the things she would need into a bag, her mind was racing. How on earth could he have found out? She had only been to one meeting of the Achilles Project since joining the League, for the Halls had been unexpectedly busy, but from that meeting she had received an impression of intelligence and power. Again in her mind she saw the staring eyes of Francis Bone, dead at Voldemort's hand. Now that threat seemed real to her. She ran down the stairs two at a time to the back entrance.
Altair, her Pegasus, was grazing on the lawn, treading on the roses and generally causing havoc. She whistled, and he came trotting over, his tail held high, and poked his nose into her robes. Andrea vaulted easily onto his broad back, and he soared off.
'We're going to Hogwarts, Altair.' He beat the air with his wings, and they rose high above the Halls of Healing and into the sky. For a while, Andrea forgot her nervousness in the sheer joy of sitting astride a flying Pegasus. She marvelled that anyone could prefer a lifeless broomstick.
When they landed at Hogwarts, she hurried up to the great double doors that were firmly barred, and knocked. After a while, a man dressed all in black opened them.
'Why are you here?' he asked sharply.
'Minerva McGonagall told me to come.' She recognised the man suddenly as another member of the League, the very silent man who had sat at Professor Dumbledore's left hand. 'I'm one of the League,' she added quickly. 'I'm working on the Achilles Project.'
'Oh. Well, I suppose you should come in, then.' Rather gracelessly, he held the door open for her. 'I imagine McGonagall will show you to wherever she's arranged for you. My name is Severus Snape.'
Silently, he ushered her through the corridors to a door. 'You'll find McGonagall in there,' he said, and swished away. Andrea knocked uncertainly.
'Come in!' Minerva was sitting behind a desk, flipping through a pile of papers. 'Oh, Andrea, good. You got here quickly. That Pegasus of yours must be fast.'
'Oh, he is. Very fast.' Here in the ancient rooms of Hogwarts, Andrea felt unaccountably shy even of Minerva. She seemed more formidable, clad in her black professor's robes, and Andrea wondered what she might be like with a class of students.
'I'm teaching in a moment, but I'll show you up quickly now.' Minerva set down her quill and blotted the page. 'Is that all your stuff? Come on, then. You'll be in with me, because it's a bit crowded at the moment.' She sighed. 'I tell you, I'm run off my feet with all this extra work from the League.'
Andrea made sympathetic noises, distracted by the maze of passages in the school. Minerva led her up a narrow staircase, and into an uncannily tidy set of rooms.
'There's a bed made up for you in there, and you can use the study for whatever work you've got to do. I'll leave you here now, I've got a class of fifth years.' She glanced at the clock and hastened away.
Andrea made herself comfortable in the rooms, putting her things away very neatly. She had never seen the place where Minerva lived before, but she was not surprised by its tidiness and precision. Minerva had the tidiest mind of anyone she knew. Andrea set the article she had been writing for the Healer's Handbook out on the desk, and continued the work that had been interrupted earlier.
~
After dining in the Great Hall, a new experience for Andrea, who had watched the roof that echoed the sky outside with amazement, she returned to her room before the hordes of students came flooding into the corridors. She had found it a little unnerving to sit at the High Table with the Hogwarts staff and the other members of the League, and she had eaten quickly. Puzzling her way along the corridors, she could see the setting sun turning the lake a dull red and the sky purple and gold. Ahead, the passage forked, and she recognised the staircase that led up to the room she was sharing with Minerva. She climbed up, marvelling that the students could find their way around so effortlessly. There were no windows at the top, and it was very dark.
She heard a peculiar noise, like someone catching their breath, and uneven footsteps.
'Hello?' There was no response. 'Is anyone there?' she repeated, wondering if she was only speaking into empty air. 'Mmm…' came the answer, faintly. She raised her wand, and a glow filled the corridor, casting crooked shadows that danced as she took a step. Leaning on the wall was a figure. Andrea went over, her professional instincts alert.
'Are you all right?'
The figure half-turned, and in the dim light she recognised the pale face and grey eyes of Remus Lupin, who was working on the Achilles Project along with her, William Prewett and Lady Irene de Beale. He was resting his head against the wall, and lines of pain were etched across his skin.
'Sorry … I'll be fine … in a moment … so stupid of me …' he murmured weakly.
Andrea looked at him, frowning slightly. 'What's the matter?'
'I felt faint … dizzy … thought I could get … back to my room … before ….' He closed his eyes momentarily, trying to summon his strength, and raised a hand to his forehead.
'Here, sit down. Put your head between your knees.' She put a hand on his arm, compelling him to obey. He sank down with a sigh, and sat very still. Andrea wondered what could be wrong with him.
'Well, let me have a look at you,' she said, her professional tone giving no hint of her confusion. She put down her wand. For this, at least, she did not need light. His pulse was slow and faint, and his breathing shallow. She twitched her fingers, and found that the aura around him was wavering, and very disturbed in one place on his shoulder. Pulling his robe aside – he made no protest – she saw the white lines of an old scar. She reached out her hand to it, and he flinched. Hoping she was mistaken, she looked more closely, but the marks of a bite were clear on his thin shoulder. A werewolf bite.
With a gasp, Andrea recoiled from him, breathing raggedly. So this was the one! How could Dumbledore allow him into the school? Her instincts told her to run, to get away, anywhere but here alone with a werewolf. Memories of Fenris at his worst flooded her mind, and she turned away with a hard expression. She would make the Wolfsbane Potion if Dumbledore asked, but this was too much. No werewolf would find any help from her.
He gave a faint moan, and she shuddered, the old memories burning in her. But then she turned back as he moaned again. Compassion warred with anger and fear within her. For a moment, Andrea saw only an ill man, helpless in the dark. Driven by some impulse that she did not understand, she bent down again. His eyes flickered, and he saw her.
'Please … got to get back … to my room … before….' His voice trailed off weakly, but his deep grey eyes did not leave her face. She swallowed hard.
'Yes, right. D'you think you can walk?' Her voice was strained.
In answer, he rose slowly and took an unsteady step. She raised her hand gingerly to support him.
'Come on, then.'
'It's just down the hall,' he breathed.
'Good.' She found herself slipping an unwilling arm around him as he lurched into her. Remembering Fenris' strong, pawing hands, her stomach gave an unpleasant jolt. He stopped outside a door, and Andrea opened it.
The sun had sunk below the hills, and the last of the warm red glow was fading. Remus Lupin began to shake violently, slumping against her. She pushed him onto the bed, touching him as little as she could manage. There he continued to shake, gasping for breath. Andrea felt ill, watching him, but she could not turn away.
Dark patches of hair appeared on his face, his shape changed subtly. He seemed to see her then. In a strangely distorted voice, he gasped, 'Leave me … not … a pretty … sight….'
Andrea stood a moment longer. Then his face changed, and for a split second he looked at her with the same violent, painful look that Fenris had once had in his eyes. Trembling almost as much as Remus, she fled from the room and along the corridor. She hesitated outside the door to the room, unwilling to face Minerva in this state. Her mind was whirling with confusion and wild fear.
Finally she went in, taking a few deep breaths.
'Andrea?' called Minerva from her room. 'What kept you?'
Andrea went into the Minerva's room, suddenly and foolishly wanting to cry. 'Sorry – I was sidetracked.'
Minerva turned sharp eyes to her. 'Are you all right? You look a bit upset.'
'Oh, I'm all right … I mean – there's nothing wrong,' she stuttered. Minerva's lips thinned.
'You sure?'
Andrea was silent a moment. Then she burst out, 'I don't understand! Why on earth do you allow a – a werewolf in here?'
Minerva raised an eyebrow. 'You mean Remus? He's no worse than the rest of us. Surely you can understand that. You know a bit about werewolves, don't you? What with your potion and everything?'
Andrea collapsed onto the bed beside her, flinging her hands into the air. 'I didn't mean to invent it! It was an accident. I don't want to have anything to do with a werewolf.'
'Andrea, calm down,' said Minerva, looking at her with a helpless expression. 'What's wrong with werewolves? Admittedly, we had a few teething troubles when he came here, but it's not a problem any more. And what do you mean, you didn't want to invent the Wolfsbane Potion? It's one of the most brilliant pieces of work I've ever seen.'
Andrea put her head in her hands. 'I know … I know … but you don't understand.'
'What don't I understand?' Minerva had been like a mother to Andrea after her parents had died, and now she felt on firmer ground, for she had often listened to her troubles in the past. But Andrea shook her head.
'I don't want to talk about it. But I – oh, Minerva, I'm so frightened of him.'
'Of Remus? There's absolutely no reason. He's one of the gentlest, most courteous people I know. He's turned out well, has young Remus.' She spoke with finality, and Andrea did not feel up to explaining the whole sorry story of Fenris to her. It had been so embarrassing, that scene, with Sirius Black watching.
'Thanks, Minerva,' she said, not feeling at all comforted. 'I think I'll get some sleep.'
But Andrea did not sleep for a long time. And when she did, her dreams were haunted by Remus, but with Fenris' face, transforming into a wolf and chasing her through endless passages, always baying at her heels. She woke in the black night shivering and sweating, and it was long before she sank into a dreamless sleep.
~
In the morning, Andrea woke suddenly, disorientated. She stared blankly around the room until her memory returned. She was at Hogwarts, Voldemort was pursuing her, and there was a werewolf down the corridor. She took several deep breaths before getting up and dressing.
Impatiently, she ran a comb through her wild brown hair, trying to tame it into something suitable for a Healer. It had been just her luck, she thought, to have curly, unmanageable hair when Healers spent most of their time with it tied back severely. But she had never been able to bring herself to cut it off, though it fell to half-way down her back, for her father had loved it like that. Silly of her, really, to be so sentimental.
When she was dressed, she knew she had to go and check on her patient. Just treat it like another part of the research, she told herself. Don't think about what he is, take notes and consider the problems.
Still, she had to speak to herself sternly as she stood outside the door before she could bring herself to knock.
'Come in,' called a faint voice. Andrea reluctantly obeyed.
Remus Lupin was lying on the bed, looking about him listlessly. His face was pale and his eyes dark-shadowed.
'Good morning,' she said with false cheerfulness. 'How do you feel?' She crossed the room to him, trying to blot the image of his transformation last night from her mind.
'Rotten.' He sighed and closed his eyes for a moment. Andrea took his pulse with cold fingers, and found it slow and faint.
Opening his eyes again, he made an effort to sit up, but Andrea pushed him back again. 'You need to rest today.' He shook his head, pain in his eyes.
'There's a lot of work I have to get done, and it can't wait. I can't afford to waste any time, and besides, Sna – some people – will say that I can't do a proper job because I'm a werewolf.' In his weakness and frankness, he seemed vulnerable, far less of a threatening beast, and Andrea relaxed fractionally.
He sat up again, propping himself on his elbows. 'That Potion of yours has a ton of side effects, you know.'
Andrea raised an eyebrow. 'Really? Fen – I hadn't been told that. Tell me what they are.' Now that she had a medical problem to consider, she felt more at ease.
He gave a hoarse laugh. 'I'm not usually this hopeless, you know, even right after a transformation. Or right before it like last night. It made me much weaker than usual, and it's giving me terrible headaches.'
Andrea frowned, wondering how this could have happened. Misinterpreting her expression, Remus said hurriedly, 'Please, don't think I'm ungrateful. Far, far from that. It is such a relief to know – to be sure I won't hurt anyone, for the first time.' She felt a glimmer of sympathy suddenly, and he smiled at her.
'Hmm … I'll have to think about it – see if I can get it any better before next month.' You'd better get used to this, she instructed herself, he's not going to stop needing that potion. 'Now, if you lie there, I'll go make up a restorative for you, so you can get up.'
He nodded and rested his head on the pillow. Andrea left the room and went back to her own room down the corridor. She kindled a fire with a word and began to pour drops from her phials of ingredients into a small bowl. As she stirred it, her mind wandered. In the warm morning light, she could think more clearly, and things seemed less terrible. There was no reason, she told herself, why all werewolves should be like Fenris. After all, Remus had hardly asked to be bitten. For the first time she considered how difficult it must be, to be driven away from normal society for something that was no fault of your own. She stirred the mixture slowly until it turned clear. By the time she had decanted it into a small crystal bottle, her fear had somehow mutated to sympathy.
She returned to his room. Remus had got up and was sitting on the edge of his bed, white-faced to his lips. The ray of sunlight on his face made the contrast between his pale skin and deeply shadowed eyes stand out.
'You shouldn't have got up,' she reproached him. 'Drink some of this.' She poured a little of the liquid into a tiny glass and handed it to him. As he drank, the colour returned to his face.
'Thank you.' He smiled suddenly, his sad, tired face lighting like a candle. She felt her lips return it of their own accord. 'I'll leave you to get up, then,' she said after a moment's silence. 'If you need anything I'm just down the corridor.'
~
When she had gone, Remus lay back for a while. He was no fool, he could see she was nervous of him. But he saw again in his mind's eye the swift, dazzling smile that had crossed her face, transforming her rather plain features almost beyond recognition.
He shook his head violently. She was not for the likes of him. No girl had ever come near him, for he had always been very shy and retiring. Besides, he could imagine all too well what they would do once he told them what he was.
Andrea Wood. He turned the syllables over in his mind, slowly. And again he saw her smile. With a groan that was not entirely caused by his weariness, he got up.
~
I hope you 'got' the title. Two metamorphoses in this story. The next part will be called 'The Achilles Project.' It should be up fairly soon.
Blaise.
13th February 2000