Chapter 27.
Remus had half expected Severus to slam to door in Harry's face when the boy delivered his message. He was only too conscious of the Potions Master's aversion to himself, and he was by no means oblivious to Snape's thinly veiled attempts to undermine his relationship with Elena.
The irony of that mission had brought many a bitter smile to Remus's lips over the past few weeks. Snape really needn't have bothered. Remus had proven himself quite capable of sabotaging his own relationships without any help from outside.
Yet when he and Dumbledore arrived in the dungeons with the helpless Gerald in tow, they found the door to Snape's office open, and the dour Potions Master waiting for them.
His black eyes flicked coldly over both Remus and the furious, paralysed young stranger, coming to rest on Dumbledore's face.
"Veritaserum?" He asked directly, without waiting for an explanation or request.
Dumbledore nodded gravely. "As quickly as possible," he affirmed, "Time is a precious resource in this matter."
The potion was swiftly located and unstoppered, and forced down Gerald's unresisting throat. Again, Dumbledore had to partially relax the petrifying charm in order to let the man swallow, and then talk.
"Now," Dumbledore said coolly, as though discussing nothing more serious than bad weather, "What is your name?"
The man seemed to fight against answering, but was inevitably overcome by the power of the potion. "Travim … " he ground out, "Marcus Travim."
Dumbledore nodded, seemingly unsurprised. He looked to Snape, whose inky black eyes were now glittering with both recognition and distaste as he watched the man being questioned.
"Do you know him, Severus?" Dumbledore asked bluntly.
Severus nodded once, not taking his eyes off Travim. "I do," he said flatly, his voice betraying no emotion. "A would-be Death Eater, but not one of the inner circle. Desperate for acceptance, though. He had a friend when I knew him – an equally nasty specimen names Skarns, just as rabid with ambition. Something tells me that if you find him, you will have found Miss Greenstone."
Dumbledore turned back to Travim, fixing him with an icy stare. "Is this true?" he demanded.
"Yes," choked Travim. "Elena Greenstone would be with Skarns by now." He was beginning to look a little strange. He seemed… fuzzy around the edges.
"Why did you kidnap Elena Greenstone? Did you mean to kill her?"
Remus stared at Dumbledore, awed by the older man's steely composure. How much it must have cost him to even voice such a possibility! Remus himself felt nauseous at the very thought of what might be happening even as they spoke, yet neither Dumbledore's tone nor his freezing gaze had wavered.
"We – wanted – to win favour – the Dark Lord – reward – " Travim fought against every word that tore involuntarily from his throat. Dumbledore gave an impatient nod, and more potion was administered. Travim began to speak more fluidly, totally helpless to resist the compulsion to tell the whole truth.
"We wanted to win favour with the Dark Lord. We knew he would rise again and he has. We had to perform some great task, something he would see as worthy of reward. We discovered the reclusive branch of the Dumbledore line by accident, but knew it was our one chance to win the Dark Lord's notice and gratitude. We investigated Dumbledore's missing brother then finally managed to trace the generations down to the Greenstones last year. We killed three of them, but one got away and one we captured. We knew he was only a foundling child, and not a Dumbledore, so we … kept him, in case he came in handy on our mission to kill the last Greenstone. Not until she was dead did we intend to present our deeds to the Dark Lord. That was the plan. But the Dark Lord discovered our quest through his own sources, and now he wants to interview the last of the Dumbledore line before we kill her."
"Why?" Remus heard his own voice, sharp and biting.
"Because he wants to see if she could be turned," Travim answered helplessly. "Because he likes the idea of having the last of the Dumbledore line, the last of the truly great white witches, in thrall to him."
His shape really was wavering now. The handsome young man with striking blue eyes was … rippling, shrinking, reshaping himself into another form. All at once, like a plug had been pulled, the first man drained away leaving the apparent dregs: a small and rather unprepossessing specimen of about twenty-eight, with sandy hair, watery brown eyes and a broad, red-splotched face.
"That would be the end of the poly-juice's effect," Dumbledore observed dryly, "Now we can be certain that Gerald Greenstone lives still. Tell us now, Travim, where has Elena been port-keyed to?"
Travim's face nearly seemed to collapse on itself with the effort of trying withold his answer, but to no avail. "An abandoned flat above a disused shop front. Number 57 Knockturn Alley."
"And what wards are in place?" Snape demanded sharply, his eyes narrowing. "What excruciating and fatal curses have you derived to defend your little rat hole?" He seemed to know exactly how his repulsive little man's mind would work. The observation chilled Remus, even while he was grateful for the man's dark intelligence.
In halting spurts, Travim described the two possible methods of accessing the flat, and the ways to avoid the many nasty Curses and locks that guarded each one.
Remus listened more intently than he'd ever listened in his life.
Even now, Elena might be facing Voldemort. He could almost see her, standing before the Dark Lord with her chin thrust defiantly in the air, her dark hair framing her pale face, taut with fear but beautiful in her bravery. She would be brave, he knew that. And she would never compromise with darkness, he knew that too.
If only she were canny enough to bargain for a while, to draw her time out! Then perhaps he would have a chance of getting to her before it was too late… But he just couldn't see her playing the sly betrayer or the malleable, greedy young witch, not even as part of an act.
She would spit at the feet of the most powerful dark wizard in the world and go to her death without flinching, but she would not turn. And she would not deceive. And it would be her undoing.
Remus looked to Dumbledore, and found Dumbledore looking back at him. The older man's eyes were no longer cold – they were filled to the brim with a hundred emotions. Remus couldn't imagine what his own gaze was reflecting, but the glance they exchanged spoke thousands of words, all of them raw and stricken.
And Remus realized that Elena's death would not be her undoing.
It would be the undoing of them all.
Swallowing hard, Remus became aware that Dumbledore was speaking, and that he ought to be concentrating on every word.
"…remember what I told you that night – about the Heirs of Dumbledore?"
Remus shook his head, confused by the question.
"I said," Dumbledore repeated urgently, "That we – the Heirs of Dumbledore - have all been born with an innate measure of protection against the Unforgivable curses. Not immunity, I told you. 'A few extra defences'. Elena doesn't know what these are. She doesn't know she has this power, she doesn't know how to use it. I couldn't teach her without being sure, but it's too late for that now. I will have to go with my instincts."
Remus stared at the Headmaster in bewilderment, wanting to ask what it was he had not been sure of, but the gaze Dumbledore fixed upon him did not brook questions.
"What she needs a talisman," he said intensely, "And this talisman can only be one thing. It must be the thing that she loves best in the world. And I believe that is you, Remus. Whatever else may have gone on between you, I believe you are her talisman. You're the only thing that can save her life."
For one long moment, Remus could only stare at the grave-faced old man. A thousand puzzle pieces that had never quite fit were suddenly cast up into the air, falling to earth again to give an entirely new picture. It all made sense now… and yet at the same time it made no sense at all.
"You planned this –" he choked out at last, "Not this nightmare, I know, but us… Her and I… Bringing us to Hogwarts… Putting us together... You knew from the start that I would - That she needed - That she would – "
"I brought you both to Hogwarts for different and valid reasons, Remus," Dumbledore reprimanded sharply. "I don't have the time or the inclination to run a single's service!"
Remus blushed intensely. What a ridiculous thing to have accused Professor Dumbledore of. For one sublimely idiotic moment there he had convinced himself that the Headmaster had engineered his meeting with Elena, somehow knowing that they would fall for one another, and then subtly encouraged them as their feelings for each other grew stronger and stronger. All so that the girl who was all alone in the world with nothing left to love would have her talisman. Him.
What stupidity.
Remus was still cursing himself for his demented outburst when the Headmaster continued in a slightly softer tone, "On the other hand… I will admit it was clear to me that she needed someone. Almost as much as you did. And she needed someone who could take care of her, as you needed someone to protect. You'd both been long enough on your own."
Remus met Dumbledore's gaze and his blush turned to pallor. He had been right – the Headmaster had played matchmaker. And the earth turned upside down all over again as his incredulity returned.
"But why choose me to be her protector?" He begged, stricken. "Headmaster - I'm a werewolf!"
"I'm aware of that, Remus," Dumbledore replied quietly, "But you are also a good man. And though I have never said it, I love you like a son." Remus flinched at this, perhaps in pain and perhaps in surprise but most likely in both. "Whatever you may believe, you are worthy of Elena, and she is worthy of you. And that is high praise for you both."
"But enough of this! Remember what I told you - I believe you are her talisman. As long as she maintains physical contact with you, she can withstand an Unforgivable curse. She will not be immune to them. I doubt she would survive being struck more than twice. But it is something. Perhaps it will give you both a chance. Now go! Severus will have floo powder enough to get you to the fireplace at Flourish and Blotts. Make your way to Knockturn Alley from there, enter number fifty seven the way Mr Travim so kindly described for you. I do not know what you will find after that. But good luck to you. Don't forget anything I said tonight."
Remus nodded determinedly, struggling to push the swirl of questions and emotions he felt to one side so that he could concentrate on the task at hand.
He looked at Snape, and without being asked, the surly, dark haired man held out a tin of floo powder. Remus had not even seen him reach for it, but again, he was there when he was needed, grave and dependable. An unlikely ally, but a true one.
His dour expression did not change as Remus accepted a pinch, but Remus smiled at him anyway, a swift half-smile of gratitude, and an offer of truce. Snape did not smile back, but he nodded very slightly, and that was enough.
Remus reached the fireplace in three long strides, took a deep breath, and with a sharp flick of his wrist he tossed the golden powder into the leaping flames.
Let me succeed, he prayed with silent fervour to a faceless deity, I swear I'll never ask for anything again as long as I live, only let me succeed in this, please.
I just can't lose her now.