I'm starting this chapter with a bit of ranting. I hope you all, and JK
will forgive me. I'm sure I'll get over it.
HOW COULD SHE DO THAT?!? I CAN'T BELIEVE SHE KILLED HIM!! AAAAAAAAAARGH!!!!!!!
There. Now I feel a little better.
I'm going to let you in on a little secret-The Mark of War is complete. It has been for quite some time. It has even been published in its entirety on this website. I made the mistake of publishing the whole thing all at once and no one was reading it. I had maybe a half-dozen reviews. So, per the suggestion of one of my previous readers, I republished it a chapter at a time beginning a couple of months ago. Now, with the Order of the Phoenix out, and since we have both finished reading it-meaning you and I, since we are now both back to reading fanfiction-I must wonder exactly what the point of continuing is. First, because I am still so miffed with Rowling for what she did that I am currently not very interested in anything having to do with Harry Potter's world. Second, since my book takes place in the timeline of Harry's fifth year, and now we know everything there is to know about Harry's fifth year, it seems a little odd to be reading a story about events that do not concur with the 'facts.' I mean, before O of the P came out we could all fantasize about what Rowling was going to come up with. Now that it's all there for us to read, the fantasizing becomes pointless. So I have decided to publish the remainder, in its entirety, and get it over with. I certainly hope you will continue to read and review and enjoy my story. For another excellent read I recommend Hunting the Traitor by Fairytale on this site-an excellent work in progress, despite the writer's difficulties grasping English grammar (the writer is a native German speaker). Hunting the Traitor is an AU and successfully transcends the problems with sticking to Harry's schooling timeline. I am now quite intent on turning the bulk of my time and attention, as well as ink and diskspace, to writing my own currently-untitled original novel. I am fast approaching the 100,000 word mark and expect it to reach at least 150,000. Very possibly more. I'm hoping to publish someday. Your kind reviews keep bolstering me up and giving me the hope that I just might be able to do this! For REAL!!
Thank you. Potterfreak.
CHAPTER TEN: Lupin's Request
Sirius Black remained unknown to the general body of Hogwarts students. Harry, Ron and Hermione knew, and he visited with them frequently in Professor Dumbledore's office or in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom. The other students often saw him roaming the hallways and grounds as a large black dog. No one thought much of it really. Stranger sights were the rule at Hogwarts. Most still feared Black's name, knowing him as the infamous dark wizard who had murdered thirteen people with one spell. He was innocent of course. The real culprit had last been seen by Roxanne Stewart as his powerful silver hand had dragged her through the forest.
Lupin, respected and well liked by most of the students from his short tenure as Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, greeted them enthusiastically as he strolled the hallways. He spent much of his time helping Madame Pomfrey care for Miss Stewart, bringing her meals, feeding her and helping her take a short painful stroll round the hospital wing every day. He kept in constant communication with Black and Dumbledore. The Headmaster held frequent councils with a steady stream of visitors, including Ministry officials and foreign wizards and conferred with Black and Lupin after each one.
Dozens of students left Hogwarts, most among the Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws. Only three Gryffindors had been called home-a skinny first- year girl, and the Creevey brothers, their muggle parents horrified by Dumbledore's letter, despite his assurances that they would be as safe at Hogwarts as anywhere. Harry wasn't aware of any Slytherins leaving.
The remaining students busily spread rumors, whispering in huddles, a new flurry of gossip blowing through the school with each passing day that Roxanne's place at the head table stood empty.
"I heard she died."
"She's not dead-she's frozen, like when the Chamber of Secrets was opened."
"I heard the Death Eaters set a werewolf on her and Dumbledore's sent her to live in Siberia."
Harry was constantly avoiding questions. He refused to give them any more information-Dumbledore had asked him, out of respect for Roxanne, not to. A few students had taken to faking, or inflicting, illnesses or wounds, hoping for a trip to the infirmary. But when they got there, all they found was a stone silent bed, surrounded by screens.
Finally, weary with the crowd of kids that followed him around hoping he'd let something slip, Harry threw on his invisibility cloak and snuck out to Hagrid's cabin to visit Sirius. Sirius fairly exploded when he saw him and marched him straight back to the castle without bothering to transform.
Ron's mood grew steadily more anxious. He claimed he was nervous about Gryffindor's first Quidditch match next week (he'd been made Keeper), and partly this was true. Ron had really come to admire Roxanne, despite his inability to beat her at chess, and was shaken by the little that Harry had told him. The longer Roxanne lay suffering in the infirmary, the more anxious he became. Finally he could take it no more. He did something that he never did unless he was in trouble-he stayed after Transfiguration to speak to Professor McGonagall.
"Excuse me, Professor?" he asked timidly.
"Yes, Mr. Weasley," she replied, looking at him in her 'what-are-you-up-to- now' way.
"I want-I mean-would it be all right if I-if we-visited Roxanne?"
Professor McGonagall's severe look softened very slightly as she considered what he'd asked. "I believe that can be arranged."
At lunch Professor McGonagall signaled for Ron to come to the head table. Harry and Hermione watched as he stood before her, talking low so Ron had to lean over, Professor Dumbledore watching with a warm twinkle in his eye.
Ron came bounding back to the Gryffindor table, a huge smile on his face, and shoved between Harry and Hermione. "After classes," he said quietly, ignoring the curious stares of the others.
**********
Harry opened the door and peered into the hospital wing with Ron and Hermione straining to see past him. The screen was gone and he could see Roxanne sitting on her bed. Madame Pomfrey stood on the far side, examining her back, swabbing it with a potion she poured liberally from a short blue bottle.
"Ow! OUCH! Stop already!" Roxanne shouted, jerking and wincing as Madame Pomfrey kept coming at her with the large blue-stained cotton ball in her hand. Roxanne struggled to pull her shirt back down with her elbows, but Madame Pomfrey was strong and determined-as always.
"Just-one-more-try!" Madame Pomfrey hissed through clenched teeth.
"OUCH!" Roxanne yelled, finally freeing her shirt from Madame Pomfrey's grip and pulling it down with a huff. "What are you--some kind of sadist?" she hissed back.
Madame Pomfrey threw her hands in the air and stomped off muttering loudly to herself. "Stubborn-no respect-just trying to help!" they could hear in angry bursts.
"Roxanne," Harry called softly, "is it OK if we come in?"
"Harry! Ron! Hermione too? Ah, there you are!" she said spotting Hermione behind Ron's arm. "Please! Come in! Madame Vampira'll leave me alone if I have visitors," she said loudly enough for Madame Pomfrey to easily hear, at which another tirade of grumbling burst from the office several yards away.
The three rushed forward, laughing quietly, amused, but not interested in incurring Madame Pomfrey's stern glares. Roxanne winced as she swung her legs back onto the bed and struggled to settle herself high on the pillows without her hands to help. Harry and Ron did what they could, not sure where they could touch her without causing more pain. They finally each grasped an elbow and helped her leverage herself into a semi-comfortable position.
"When do you reckon she'll let you go ?" asked Hermione, nodding toward Madame Pomfrey's office.
Roxanne heaved an exasperated sigh. "I'm going crazy in here. But I'm still in a lot of pain. She can't get rid of it. Nothing helps. Some things make it worse. But she keeps torturing me-tries something new two or three times a day. I'm beginning to think I'd heal faster if she just left me the hell alone." She winced and squeezed her eyes tightly shut, taking several deep breaths waiting for the searing pain to subside.
"Would you rather we went?" asked Ron, concern on his face.
"No. I'll be fine." She sighed heavily. "How are classes going?"
"Great!" beamed Hermione, Harry and Ron rolling their eyes at her.
"Professor Snape's still gone," cooed Ron. "Dumbledore hasn't found a replacement yet."
Roxanne's expression darkened. "I know. Remus says Dumbledore's worried." "Worried? About Snape?" spat Ron. Then he saw the expression on her face. "You're not worried, too?"
"He risked his life to save mine, Ron. I don't know exactly why he did it, but I owe him for that. Besides, potions is my best subject." She laughed at Ron's disgusted look. "I like it! It's a damn sight better than transfiguration."
Now Hermione looked disgusted. "How could anyone not like transfiguration?" she sputtered.
"I don't know," said Roxanne sheepishly. "I just don't have the knack for it, I guess. Maybe it's just Professor McGonagall. I get cold sweats just looking at her. It's like she's waiting for her chance to claw me to death."
"Professor McGonagall?" Hermione asked incredulously.
"Scarier than Snape?" Harry blurted.
Roxanne nodded. Hermione had gone silent, her brow furrowed in thought. Then she looked up, bright-eyed and snapped her fingers. "I've got it! I'll help you with transfiguration if you'll take over helping Neville with potions for me-honestly, the boy is nearly hopeless! Maybe a fresh perspective'll help him."
Roxanne crossed her arms and thought for a minute. "You know, that's not a bad idea. I suppose we can try. I'll need to make a trip to Diagon Alley for a new wand, if I ever get out of the hospital wing anyway. And I should probably start studying again. Can you three do me a favor?"
"Anything," they chimed together.
"Could you go to my room and fetch my school bag?"
"No problem," said Ron. "Do you want me to bring up your chess set? We could play tomorrow."
But Roxanne shook her head, her eyes clouding. "I'll play. But I'll need to borrow someone's chess set."
Ron thought of Roxanne's shiny black chess box, the silver snakes with the emerald eyes, the deep black, overly-violent chessmen with their sharp cruel edges. It was a chess set meant for a dark wizard, crafted by hands stained with blood no doubt. They understood why she didn't want to use it again.
"You can borrow mine," Harry offered
**********
The small village of Little Hangleton buzzed with rumors of ghosts at the Riddle House-a large manor house that lay on the outskirts of town, long empty. Nearly a year ago now the caretaker had mysteriously disappeared, and the townspeople were convinced his rotting body lay hidden in the house somewhere, his tortured soul wandering its halls. Strange lights and shadows were seen often by the few who dared approach the house. The stories floating around kept even the boldest of Little Hangleton's boys from venturing there anymore. Especially at night.
The absentee owner had never replaced the caretaker, and the mansion soon fell into neglect--the lawns long and gangly, the shrubs growing uncontrolled, the gravel drive grown over with weeds and scattered with litter.
Inside the house, the dusty floors were not undisturbed, however. Footprints could be seen clearly (if one were foolish enough to venture a look), shifting and smearing the dust throughout every room, though no one was ever seen leaving through the large front door. Late one night, a large owl, an eagle owl, streaked through the starlit sky to the Riddle House. It flew to a closed window and beat it wings against it, until a shadowy hand opened the window and let the creature inside. The same hand drew heavy curtains over the window and lit, by magic, a large fire in the room's fireplace. The cold yellow light bathed the face of Lucius Malfoy, who turned and removed a message from the owls leg, as it sat perched on the back of a tall chair. Instead of reading it, he handed the note to the man sitting in the chair. Two others stood waiting quietly near the fireplace.
"It's from your son," said the man in the chair, in a high chilling voice. "He says the woman is still alive."
Malfoy spun and glared at the black haired wizard across the room. "I thought you said she would die, screaming in agony, before two days had passed," he hissed.
"I said she would likely die before two days had passed," drawled Severus Snape. "It is possible-however improbable-that they found the antidote."
"Or is it possible they were sent the antidote?" snarled Malfoy, suspiciously eyeing Snape. "She is one of your students, a beautiful girl, a talented potioner I understand. Perhaps my Lord should reconsider Mr. Snape's claim of loyalty."
"Perhaps your hatred of the girl is effecting your ability to serve our Master faithfully," Snape replied. "I care nothing for the girl, if that is what you are implying, Lucius. She is alive despite my best efforts, not because of them."
The man in the chair stood, surveying them both, ignoring the man with the silver hand who stood solemnly, his eyes cast to the ground. The man towered over them both, his red eyes narrowing, frowning menacingly. "Whether she lived or died is not important. She was a messenger. Did she deliver my message?" Both men nodded. "Then think nothing more about her. We must remain focused on the objective. Do not let her be a distraction. Do I make myself clear?" Both nodded again, though only Snape would meet the Dark Lord's eyes.
"Yes, Master," he said, and bowed deeply before leaving the room.
**********
"Finished?" Remus asked, ready to take Roxanne's breakfast tray.
"If I say no do I get to stay in bed?" she asked hopefully.
"No," he said flatly with a smirk. "Come on."
"You know, I'm not sure I can trust you," she said, wincing as he helped her swing her legs out of bed.
"I'm not sure you can either, but you're not getting out of this that easily." He knelt on the floor and put her slippers on her feet, then sat beside her on the bed and pulled her arm up over his shoulders, and placed his arm gently across her back. "On three. One, two, Three." And together they stood, he lifting her, careful not to cause her any more pain than necessary. Despite the teasing and the pain, Roxanne had come to enjoy her daily hobbling walks with Lupin. She enjoyed his company, his kind wit, his gentle hand.
"Where to today, Mr. Lupin?" she asked as they made their way, slowly at first as the kinks in her muscles worked themselves out, toward the infirmary door.
"The potions classroom," he said frankly, without missing a step.
She tried to stop, to look at him, puzzled, but he pressed her steadily forward. "Why?"
"I need your help. I'll explain when I have you trapped down there," he said with a mischievous grin. He led her on, trying to keep the conversation light as they made their way through the castle. He avoided her questions, avoided her eyes. Something weighed heavily on his mind. He finally persuaded her to give an accounting of her last chess match with Ron. Ron had won, but only (she said) because she'd grown tired. But Ron seemed satisfied with the win. He was full of himself strutting around the school, telling anyone he could find who was remotely interested.
When they finally reached the potions classroom Lupin helped Roxanne into a seat, removed his robes and placed them over her shoulders (she was cold from the effort of the longest walk she'd taken in a week and a half), then hurried to shut the door before returning to take a seat across the worktable from her. He looked her squarely in the face.
"You're starting to scare me," she said looking into his now-serious gray eyes.
"There's really no easy way to say this." He sighed heavily, looking at his hands. "I am a werewolf." He stopped, waiting for her reaction. Her face fell slightly.
"I see. And?"
"And, I need you to make a potion for me."
"What kind of potion?"
"Snape usually makes it for me. I expected him back before now. I'm nearly out. I waited as long as I dared."
"What kind of potion?" she repeated more slowly, forcing a direct answer.
"It's here, in this book," he said sliding a dusty old volume toward her, open to a page illustrated with fierce slobbering werewolves in various stages of transformation. "I take it throughout the month, and when it is time for me to transform the potion renders me quite harmless. I hide away while the moon is full, take a couple of days to recover and return to life as normal."
Roxanne nodded, scanning the recipe. Her mind ran easily over the shelves in the storeroom, ticking off each ingredient, making mental notes of those she knew would not be there. The potion was complicated, more so than anything she'd done on her own. A sudden sharp pain in her back reminded her that it would be enormously difficult for her to stand over a cauldron. Her useless hands would make the chopping, grinding, and mixing impossible. The thought made her cringe.
"You'll have to help me."
"Of course," he said willingly.
"You'll need to go into Diagon Alley for a few of these ingredients."
"It's been done."
She looked at him through narrowed eye. There was still something he wasn't saying. His guilty smirk told her it was coming.
"I need it soon."
"How soon?" she said slowly.
Lupin cringed. "Right away. I had hoped Snape would come back before now. I waited as long-"
"You said that," she reminded him. "How soon?"
"I have four days worth of potion left."
"FOUR DAYS! Remus, this potion takes five days to brew. You're not leaving me any room for error. We'd have to start on it now!"
"Yes, I know. I'm very sorry."
She shook her head. "I don't know if I can-"
"Dumbledore believes you can," he said, taking her hand.
"You'll have to follow my instructions exactly. In fact it might be better if we have Hermione here to help."
"She's on her way," he said with a hopeful smile.
Roxanne laughed at him. "Let's get started then, Mr. Lupin," she said resignedly.
"I am forever in your debt, Milady." And he leaned over the table and kissed her lightly on the cheek, then sprinted for the storeroom to retrieve a cauldron.
HOW COULD SHE DO THAT?!? I CAN'T BELIEVE SHE KILLED HIM!! AAAAAAAAAARGH!!!!!!!
There. Now I feel a little better.
I'm going to let you in on a little secret-The Mark of War is complete. It has been for quite some time. It has even been published in its entirety on this website. I made the mistake of publishing the whole thing all at once and no one was reading it. I had maybe a half-dozen reviews. So, per the suggestion of one of my previous readers, I republished it a chapter at a time beginning a couple of months ago. Now, with the Order of the Phoenix out, and since we have both finished reading it-meaning you and I, since we are now both back to reading fanfiction-I must wonder exactly what the point of continuing is. First, because I am still so miffed with Rowling for what she did that I am currently not very interested in anything having to do with Harry Potter's world. Second, since my book takes place in the timeline of Harry's fifth year, and now we know everything there is to know about Harry's fifth year, it seems a little odd to be reading a story about events that do not concur with the 'facts.' I mean, before O of the P came out we could all fantasize about what Rowling was going to come up with. Now that it's all there for us to read, the fantasizing becomes pointless. So I have decided to publish the remainder, in its entirety, and get it over with. I certainly hope you will continue to read and review and enjoy my story. For another excellent read I recommend Hunting the Traitor by Fairytale on this site-an excellent work in progress, despite the writer's difficulties grasping English grammar (the writer is a native German speaker). Hunting the Traitor is an AU and successfully transcends the problems with sticking to Harry's schooling timeline. I am now quite intent on turning the bulk of my time and attention, as well as ink and diskspace, to writing my own currently-untitled original novel. I am fast approaching the 100,000 word mark and expect it to reach at least 150,000. Very possibly more. I'm hoping to publish someday. Your kind reviews keep bolstering me up and giving me the hope that I just might be able to do this! For REAL!!
Thank you. Potterfreak.
CHAPTER TEN: Lupin's Request
Sirius Black remained unknown to the general body of Hogwarts students. Harry, Ron and Hermione knew, and he visited with them frequently in Professor Dumbledore's office or in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom. The other students often saw him roaming the hallways and grounds as a large black dog. No one thought much of it really. Stranger sights were the rule at Hogwarts. Most still feared Black's name, knowing him as the infamous dark wizard who had murdered thirteen people with one spell. He was innocent of course. The real culprit had last been seen by Roxanne Stewart as his powerful silver hand had dragged her through the forest.
Lupin, respected and well liked by most of the students from his short tenure as Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, greeted them enthusiastically as he strolled the hallways. He spent much of his time helping Madame Pomfrey care for Miss Stewart, bringing her meals, feeding her and helping her take a short painful stroll round the hospital wing every day. He kept in constant communication with Black and Dumbledore. The Headmaster held frequent councils with a steady stream of visitors, including Ministry officials and foreign wizards and conferred with Black and Lupin after each one.
Dozens of students left Hogwarts, most among the Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws. Only three Gryffindors had been called home-a skinny first- year girl, and the Creevey brothers, their muggle parents horrified by Dumbledore's letter, despite his assurances that they would be as safe at Hogwarts as anywhere. Harry wasn't aware of any Slytherins leaving.
The remaining students busily spread rumors, whispering in huddles, a new flurry of gossip blowing through the school with each passing day that Roxanne's place at the head table stood empty.
"I heard she died."
"She's not dead-she's frozen, like when the Chamber of Secrets was opened."
"I heard the Death Eaters set a werewolf on her and Dumbledore's sent her to live in Siberia."
Harry was constantly avoiding questions. He refused to give them any more information-Dumbledore had asked him, out of respect for Roxanne, not to. A few students had taken to faking, or inflicting, illnesses or wounds, hoping for a trip to the infirmary. But when they got there, all they found was a stone silent bed, surrounded by screens.
Finally, weary with the crowd of kids that followed him around hoping he'd let something slip, Harry threw on his invisibility cloak and snuck out to Hagrid's cabin to visit Sirius. Sirius fairly exploded when he saw him and marched him straight back to the castle without bothering to transform.
Ron's mood grew steadily more anxious. He claimed he was nervous about Gryffindor's first Quidditch match next week (he'd been made Keeper), and partly this was true. Ron had really come to admire Roxanne, despite his inability to beat her at chess, and was shaken by the little that Harry had told him. The longer Roxanne lay suffering in the infirmary, the more anxious he became. Finally he could take it no more. He did something that he never did unless he was in trouble-he stayed after Transfiguration to speak to Professor McGonagall.
"Excuse me, Professor?" he asked timidly.
"Yes, Mr. Weasley," she replied, looking at him in her 'what-are-you-up-to- now' way.
"I want-I mean-would it be all right if I-if we-visited Roxanne?"
Professor McGonagall's severe look softened very slightly as she considered what he'd asked. "I believe that can be arranged."
At lunch Professor McGonagall signaled for Ron to come to the head table. Harry and Hermione watched as he stood before her, talking low so Ron had to lean over, Professor Dumbledore watching with a warm twinkle in his eye.
Ron came bounding back to the Gryffindor table, a huge smile on his face, and shoved between Harry and Hermione. "After classes," he said quietly, ignoring the curious stares of the others.
**********
Harry opened the door and peered into the hospital wing with Ron and Hermione straining to see past him. The screen was gone and he could see Roxanne sitting on her bed. Madame Pomfrey stood on the far side, examining her back, swabbing it with a potion she poured liberally from a short blue bottle.
"Ow! OUCH! Stop already!" Roxanne shouted, jerking and wincing as Madame Pomfrey kept coming at her with the large blue-stained cotton ball in her hand. Roxanne struggled to pull her shirt back down with her elbows, but Madame Pomfrey was strong and determined-as always.
"Just-one-more-try!" Madame Pomfrey hissed through clenched teeth.
"OUCH!" Roxanne yelled, finally freeing her shirt from Madame Pomfrey's grip and pulling it down with a huff. "What are you--some kind of sadist?" she hissed back.
Madame Pomfrey threw her hands in the air and stomped off muttering loudly to herself. "Stubborn-no respect-just trying to help!" they could hear in angry bursts.
"Roxanne," Harry called softly, "is it OK if we come in?"
"Harry! Ron! Hermione too? Ah, there you are!" she said spotting Hermione behind Ron's arm. "Please! Come in! Madame Vampira'll leave me alone if I have visitors," she said loudly enough for Madame Pomfrey to easily hear, at which another tirade of grumbling burst from the office several yards away.
The three rushed forward, laughing quietly, amused, but not interested in incurring Madame Pomfrey's stern glares. Roxanne winced as she swung her legs back onto the bed and struggled to settle herself high on the pillows without her hands to help. Harry and Ron did what they could, not sure where they could touch her without causing more pain. They finally each grasped an elbow and helped her leverage herself into a semi-comfortable position.
"When do you reckon she'll let you go ?" asked Hermione, nodding toward Madame Pomfrey's office.
Roxanne heaved an exasperated sigh. "I'm going crazy in here. But I'm still in a lot of pain. She can't get rid of it. Nothing helps. Some things make it worse. But she keeps torturing me-tries something new two or three times a day. I'm beginning to think I'd heal faster if she just left me the hell alone." She winced and squeezed her eyes tightly shut, taking several deep breaths waiting for the searing pain to subside.
"Would you rather we went?" asked Ron, concern on his face.
"No. I'll be fine." She sighed heavily. "How are classes going?"
"Great!" beamed Hermione, Harry and Ron rolling their eyes at her.
"Professor Snape's still gone," cooed Ron. "Dumbledore hasn't found a replacement yet."
Roxanne's expression darkened. "I know. Remus says Dumbledore's worried." "Worried? About Snape?" spat Ron. Then he saw the expression on her face. "You're not worried, too?"
"He risked his life to save mine, Ron. I don't know exactly why he did it, but I owe him for that. Besides, potions is my best subject." She laughed at Ron's disgusted look. "I like it! It's a damn sight better than transfiguration."
Now Hermione looked disgusted. "How could anyone not like transfiguration?" she sputtered.
"I don't know," said Roxanne sheepishly. "I just don't have the knack for it, I guess. Maybe it's just Professor McGonagall. I get cold sweats just looking at her. It's like she's waiting for her chance to claw me to death."
"Professor McGonagall?" Hermione asked incredulously.
"Scarier than Snape?" Harry blurted.
Roxanne nodded. Hermione had gone silent, her brow furrowed in thought. Then she looked up, bright-eyed and snapped her fingers. "I've got it! I'll help you with transfiguration if you'll take over helping Neville with potions for me-honestly, the boy is nearly hopeless! Maybe a fresh perspective'll help him."
Roxanne crossed her arms and thought for a minute. "You know, that's not a bad idea. I suppose we can try. I'll need to make a trip to Diagon Alley for a new wand, if I ever get out of the hospital wing anyway. And I should probably start studying again. Can you three do me a favor?"
"Anything," they chimed together.
"Could you go to my room and fetch my school bag?"
"No problem," said Ron. "Do you want me to bring up your chess set? We could play tomorrow."
But Roxanne shook her head, her eyes clouding. "I'll play. But I'll need to borrow someone's chess set."
Ron thought of Roxanne's shiny black chess box, the silver snakes with the emerald eyes, the deep black, overly-violent chessmen with their sharp cruel edges. It was a chess set meant for a dark wizard, crafted by hands stained with blood no doubt. They understood why she didn't want to use it again.
"You can borrow mine," Harry offered
**********
The small village of Little Hangleton buzzed with rumors of ghosts at the Riddle House-a large manor house that lay on the outskirts of town, long empty. Nearly a year ago now the caretaker had mysteriously disappeared, and the townspeople were convinced his rotting body lay hidden in the house somewhere, his tortured soul wandering its halls. Strange lights and shadows were seen often by the few who dared approach the house. The stories floating around kept even the boldest of Little Hangleton's boys from venturing there anymore. Especially at night.
The absentee owner had never replaced the caretaker, and the mansion soon fell into neglect--the lawns long and gangly, the shrubs growing uncontrolled, the gravel drive grown over with weeds and scattered with litter.
Inside the house, the dusty floors were not undisturbed, however. Footprints could be seen clearly (if one were foolish enough to venture a look), shifting and smearing the dust throughout every room, though no one was ever seen leaving through the large front door. Late one night, a large owl, an eagle owl, streaked through the starlit sky to the Riddle House. It flew to a closed window and beat it wings against it, until a shadowy hand opened the window and let the creature inside. The same hand drew heavy curtains over the window and lit, by magic, a large fire in the room's fireplace. The cold yellow light bathed the face of Lucius Malfoy, who turned and removed a message from the owls leg, as it sat perched on the back of a tall chair. Instead of reading it, he handed the note to the man sitting in the chair. Two others stood waiting quietly near the fireplace.
"It's from your son," said the man in the chair, in a high chilling voice. "He says the woman is still alive."
Malfoy spun and glared at the black haired wizard across the room. "I thought you said she would die, screaming in agony, before two days had passed," he hissed.
"I said she would likely die before two days had passed," drawled Severus Snape. "It is possible-however improbable-that they found the antidote."
"Or is it possible they were sent the antidote?" snarled Malfoy, suspiciously eyeing Snape. "She is one of your students, a beautiful girl, a talented potioner I understand. Perhaps my Lord should reconsider Mr. Snape's claim of loyalty."
"Perhaps your hatred of the girl is effecting your ability to serve our Master faithfully," Snape replied. "I care nothing for the girl, if that is what you are implying, Lucius. She is alive despite my best efforts, not because of them."
The man in the chair stood, surveying them both, ignoring the man with the silver hand who stood solemnly, his eyes cast to the ground. The man towered over them both, his red eyes narrowing, frowning menacingly. "Whether she lived or died is not important. She was a messenger. Did she deliver my message?" Both men nodded. "Then think nothing more about her. We must remain focused on the objective. Do not let her be a distraction. Do I make myself clear?" Both nodded again, though only Snape would meet the Dark Lord's eyes.
"Yes, Master," he said, and bowed deeply before leaving the room.
**********
"Finished?" Remus asked, ready to take Roxanne's breakfast tray.
"If I say no do I get to stay in bed?" she asked hopefully.
"No," he said flatly with a smirk. "Come on."
"You know, I'm not sure I can trust you," she said, wincing as he helped her swing her legs out of bed.
"I'm not sure you can either, but you're not getting out of this that easily." He knelt on the floor and put her slippers on her feet, then sat beside her on the bed and pulled her arm up over his shoulders, and placed his arm gently across her back. "On three. One, two, Three." And together they stood, he lifting her, careful not to cause her any more pain than necessary. Despite the teasing and the pain, Roxanne had come to enjoy her daily hobbling walks with Lupin. She enjoyed his company, his kind wit, his gentle hand.
"Where to today, Mr. Lupin?" she asked as they made their way, slowly at first as the kinks in her muscles worked themselves out, toward the infirmary door.
"The potions classroom," he said frankly, without missing a step.
She tried to stop, to look at him, puzzled, but he pressed her steadily forward. "Why?"
"I need your help. I'll explain when I have you trapped down there," he said with a mischievous grin. He led her on, trying to keep the conversation light as they made their way through the castle. He avoided her questions, avoided her eyes. Something weighed heavily on his mind. He finally persuaded her to give an accounting of her last chess match with Ron. Ron had won, but only (she said) because she'd grown tired. But Ron seemed satisfied with the win. He was full of himself strutting around the school, telling anyone he could find who was remotely interested.
When they finally reached the potions classroom Lupin helped Roxanne into a seat, removed his robes and placed them over her shoulders (she was cold from the effort of the longest walk she'd taken in a week and a half), then hurried to shut the door before returning to take a seat across the worktable from her. He looked her squarely in the face.
"You're starting to scare me," she said looking into his now-serious gray eyes.
"There's really no easy way to say this." He sighed heavily, looking at his hands. "I am a werewolf." He stopped, waiting for her reaction. Her face fell slightly.
"I see. And?"
"And, I need you to make a potion for me."
"What kind of potion?"
"Snape usually makes it for me. I expected him back before now. I'm nearly out. I waited as long as I dared."
"What kind of potion?" she repeated more slowly, forcing a direct answer.
"It's here, in this book," he said sliding a dusty old volume toward her, open to a page illustrated with fierce slobbering werewolves in various stages of transformation. "I take it throughout the month, and when it is time for me to transform the potion renders me quite harmless. I hide away while the moon is full, take a couple of days to recover and return to life as normal."
Roxanne nodded, scanning the recipe. Her mind ran easily over the shelves in the storeroom, ticking off each ingredient, making mental notes of those she knew would not be there. The potion was complicated, more so than anything she'd done on her own. A sudden sharp pain in her back reminded her that it would be enormously difficult for her to stand over a cauldron. Her useless hands would make the chopping, grinding, and mixing impossible. The thought made her cringe.
"You'll have to help me."
"Of course," he said willingly.
"You'll need to go into Diagon Alley for a few of these ingredients."
"It's been done."
She looked at him through narrowed eye. There was still something he wasn't saying. His guilty smirk told her it was coming.
"I need it soon."
"How soon?" she said slowly.
Lupin cringed. "Right away. I had hoped Snape would come back before now. I waited as long-"
"You said that," she reminded him. "How soon?"
"I have four days worth of potion left."
"FOUR DAYS! Remus, this potion takes five days to brew. You're not leaving me any room for error. We'd have to start on it now!"
"Yes, I know. I'm very sorry."
She shook her head. "I don't know if I can-"
"Dumbledore believes you can," he said, taking her hand.
"You'll have to follow my instructions exactly. In fact it might be better if we have Hermione here to help."
"She's on her way," he said with a hopeful smile.
Roxanne laughed at him. "Let's get started then, Mr. Lupin," she said resignedly.
"I am forever in your debt, Milady." And he leaned over the table and kissed her lightly on the cheek, then sprinted for the storeroom to retrieve a cauldron.
