Chapter 17 – The Moon Rises
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Harry walked slowly down the corridors of Hogwarts toward the Defense Against the Dark Arts office. A few thoughts he'd kept to himself, not even discussing them with Ron or Hermione. Rowan Myfanwy had been Sirius's fiancée and, in a more perfect world, would have been Harry's adopted mother. The thought made Harry's head swim.
He stared at the tall door of Professor Myfanwy's office for several minutes before shaking himself and reaching for the knob. Harry knocked briefly before opening the heavy door. "Professor Myfanwy?" Professor Myfanwy straightened from the table she was working over, a glass vial in her hand, and smiled at him.
"Hello, Harry. Can I help you?"
Harry was staring around in fascination at the complex matrix of spiraling tubes and bubbling caldrons surrounding his teacher. It was the third time he'd seen the office since Professor Myfanwy had occupied it, but the first time he'd had time to actually look around. He was surprised at the eclectic collection it held.
In addition to the complex array of tubes and cauldrons across and around the worktable, a large cabinet stood open to one side, displaying a fascinating array of objects and jars. Unicorn horns lay glistening on one shelf next to neatly labeled jars of powdered hens teeth and odd looking devices Harry somewhat recognized as dark detectors.
On the far wall, next to a large polished desk, was a smaller glass cabinet containing an array of trophies and medals. A sleek Firebolt racing broom hung above the cabinet. Harry realized that Malfoy was right this time; Professor Myfanwy had to be quite wealthy to afford a Firebolt.
"Harry?" Professor Myfanwy's voice interrupted his thoughts gently.
"Oh! Sorry Professor Myfanwy. I'm here for my detention." He told her.
"Ah yes, your third since Halloween, right?" She chuckled lightly. "It's amazing that manage to loose nearly as many points and wind up in detention as often as your father did. You don't purposely try to cause that much mayhem. Kitchen raids and nocturnal wanderings not withstanding." She added teasingly. Harry flushed guiltily; remembering the eavesdropping he and Ron had done on Halloween. The same night they'd lost the Map and had it mysteriously returned the next morning. He assumed that Myfanwy had seen it and returned it to Professor Lupin or that Lupin had retrieved it from Filch somehow. Then he remembered the written warning that had appeared on its surface wasn't Moony's writing. Harry's eyes widened.
Professor Myfanwy raised an eyebrow at him. "I know this castle and the grounds better than you'd imagine, Harry." She noted. "And, yes, I know how to work the Marauders' Map. I watched them write it."
Harry stared at her, wondering if Professor Myfanwy could read minds like Dumbledore and even Snape sometimes appeared to do.
Her soft laugh interrupted him. "No, I don't read minds. You're just very easy to read. Rather like your mother was." She continued thoughtfully, checking the fluid level of the vial in her hand. Dark red liquid clung to the sides of the slender tube, congealing in the air. Myfanwy carefully poured the contents of the glass vial into a large cauldron and stirred the mixture three times.
Thick wisps of smoke began billowing from the cauldron and covering the floor of the office in a thin layer of mist. Professor Myfanwy didn't seem to notice the developing weather system as she crossed the room to retrieve a large goblet from one of the storage cupboards.
Wolfsbane, Harry identified the smoking potion as his eyes began wandering about the eclectic collection of artifacts scattered about the room. Harry glanced back at the small glass cabinet with the array of awards and noticed most them had a Golden Snitch imprinted on them. He looked back at Professor Myfanwy. "You play Quidditch?"
Myfanwy nodded distractedly as she poured the still smoking potion into the goblet. "Not for several years, but I was Gryffindor's Seeker when I was your age." She set the smoking goblet down and moved closer to point out a picture near the bottom of the case of a group of young witches and wizards in scarlet robes grinning and waving as they held a trophy above their heads.
The Gryffindor Quidditch team, Harry realized. He recognized his father's messy black hair and glasses on one boy standing near a scrawny black-haired girl that could possibly be a very young Professor Myfanwy.
Nearby that picture was one that made Harry burst into laughter. The four Marauders, soaking wet and covered in snow were hanging from the branches of a large tree while an equally wet Lily Evans and Rowan Myfanwy stood on either side laughing, ice salamanders and enchanted snowballs frolicking around them. Occasionally a snowball would knock one of the boys out of the tree and he'd have to scramble for the boughs before a pack of salamanders froze him in place.
Professor Myfanwy followed his gaze and started chuckling. That, she told him, was one of her favorite memories. "When did this happen?" Harry asked. He had many pictures of his parents, but he had never seen this one.
"Long before you were born, Harry, and right outside, close to Hagrid's cabin." She answered, eyes slightly distant in memory. "Fifth year for me as I remember, so Lily and the boys were sixteen."
It was then that Harry noticed something. There were no individual pictures of Sirius or Peter displayed. Individual shots of Lupin, James and Lily - together and individually – and even baby pictures of Harry himself. A few shots he recognized from the album Hagrid had given him first year. There were no shots at all of Sirius or Peter except the single group photo.
"I took the ones of Peter down for obvious reasons." Myfanwy commented quietly from behind him.
Harry nodded in acknowledgment and very carefully didn't bring up Sirius. He hadn't met many people that really knew his parents and knew he would never really know them. He didn't want to alienate any of their old friends, which were his only real link to them.
Professor Myfanwy pulled Harry's attention back to the present by scooping up the steaming goblet and instructing him to grab a pair of sacks from the bottom drawer of her largest cabinet.
After a few minutes walking they arrived at the entrance hall and found Professor Lupin waiting for them. He smiled as he saw them and slowly got up from the chair he was in, putting down his book across the arm. With the nearness of the full moon, Professor Lupin looked weak and sickly, though obviously the Wolfsbane Potion helped some, because he didn't look quite so awful as Harry remembered from their first meeting. Professor Myfanwy handed him the smoking goblet and watched him carefully to see that he drank it.
"Sorry we're late. Distracting yourself?" She nodded at the book. Lupin shrugged noncommittally and gagged down the noxious potion.
"Waiting for Padfoot," he answered, trying to work the taste out of his mouth, and set the goblet down on the seat of his chair for one of the house elves to collect later. Professor Myfanwy smiled slightly.
"Marauders to the end, eh?" She shook her head in helpless amusement. "You two will never grow up will you? Ah well, you're only human, I suppose."
Lupin's face fell, the teasing light in his eyes fading. "I'm not technically human, Rowan." He pointed out. Rowan glared furiously at him.
"You sound like a Malfoy, Moony! And you know it doesn't matter. It never mattered to your real friends!" Harry thought it sounded very much like something Sirius would say. Her next words surprised him though. "Besides, by that logic, everyone in my entire clan is a monster. I don't see a large difference between demon blood and werewolf."
"You're a what!?" Harry's jaw dropped, the outburst slipping through his mouth before he could call it back.
"I'm part demon, Harry." Professor Myfanwy responded calmly, as though being sired by an ethereal, and most certainly Dark, creature were perfectly acceptable. "Moony's being a git. Grandfather was sired by an incubus demon which leaves one of the most powerful Wizarding families in existence with Dark-tainted blood!"
A slight scratching at the castle doors halted the brewing argument. Lupin stepped over and opened the heavy doors, admitting the shaggy black form of Padfoot. Harry moved forward to greet Padfoot, who responded with a happy bark at seeing him and throwing a significant look toward Rowan. Harry gathered they had yet to have that talk and Sirius was growing impatient. Rowan staunchly ignored him and turned to Lupin instead.
"The moon is rising. You'd better go." She swept quickly toward the open doors. "Let's start, Mr. Potter. There's a lot of harvesting to do."
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