Chapter 10
"Minerva, have you seen Severus lately?"
Professor McGonagall turned from her contemplation of the large glowing hole that they were trying to fix in the outermost ward of Hogwarts' western side.
"No, Albus. Why do you ask?" She wondered absently if they might be able to send up a few of the house-elves, who were busy bowing themselves nearly to the ground every time a professor approached, to look and see how the edges of the hole looked. Perhaps they might be able to patch it instead of reweaving the entire ward.
"Well, he told me that he was running an errand in London but he would be back after three days at the most. He was in a desperate hurry and probably wouldn't even have told me if I hadn't seen him running down the corridor like Hagrid's pet Fluffy was at his heels. It's been nearly a fortnight since he left, however, and I haven't seen a trace of him." His tone was genial but the usual sparkle was absent from the aged wizard's eyes and the fine lines on his forehead were deepening in worry. "It's not like him to be gone when I specifically requested his help on the ward-weaving."
Professor McGonagall turned from her contemplation of the glowing hole to the Headmaster, her expression concerned. "You don't think that You-Know-Who…?"
"I hope not, Minerva. I sincerely hope not." Dumbledore fell silent. Professor McGonagall was always unnerved to see him worried. Dumbledore was one of the wisest wizards she knew and anything he was worried about was usually worth looking into.
She tried to cheer him up. "Who knows, Albus? We may be worrying without provocation. Perhaps the Ministry wanted a full report of his summer spying duties; that would certainly take at least an extra day. He may even be here at Hogwarts already, immersed in brewing a complex potion. You know how he gets, Albus, he forgets everything in light of his work." She paused a moment. "And if Vold--You-Know-Who has summoned him, we might not see him for awhile and he would not want to risk his position by sending you a message."
"As always, you are correct, Minerva." Dumbledore smiled at her. "However, I will sleep much easier knowing that he is safe." His expression brightened as he looked at someone over Minerva's shoulder. "Ah! Harry! How are you coming along?"
"Spiffing," he replied with a sneeze. "Professor, can I please cast a anti-allergen charm on myself? I can't work around Professor Flitwick's books without snee-snee…. AH-CHOO!" Harry swiped uselessly at his nose. "Sneezing," he finished, sniffling loudly.
"Gesundheit," replied Dumbledore serenely, offering Harry a blue handkerchief covered with yellow stars.
"Thag you," said Harry from behind the handkerchief.
~o~
The wind whipped around the small figure shrouded in black, ruffling the tattered and patched cloak so that it blew out dramatically around the thin frame that wore it, like the wings of a fallen angel. Aside from the whistling wind and the occasional call of a sea bird, the chalky white cliffs of the Sussex Downs were silent, peaceful even; a welcome change to the tumult that normally raged in the boy's mind night and day. A violent shiver passed through him; he always got colder when meals were scarce and this had been his longest stretch yet-- five days without a square meal. But he loved the Downs… it had been too long since he had breathed in the salty air, feeling, just for a brief moment, that he was on top of the world.
Christopher awakened in the early hours of the morning, almost tasting the salt spray on his lips. That had been the most vivid memory yet but he had been young, no more than ten years old he thought.
Staring into the darkness of his room where the digital clock shone the third hour of the morning, Christopher tried in vain to get the sound of the waves crashing against the rocks far below out of his mind.
~o~
"At last," Harry groaned, sliding into a booth at The Three Broomsticks in Hogsmeade. Saturday afternoon had arrived and he finally had a break from the scrubbing, dusting, and sweeping that had occupied him all week. He grabbed one of the frothy mugs of butterbeer sitting on the tray in front of him and gulped down nearly half of it without stopping. He grinned at the twin expressions of amusement from Sirius and Remus. "Do you know how long I've waited to relax and have a butterbeer?"
"A long time, I'm guessing," commented Lupin dryly, reaching for his own mug.
"They giving you enough work?" asked Sirius, swiping at his neatly trimmed beard with a napkin where some of his drink had dribbled.
"Let's just say that I hope to never clean another one of Neville Longbottom's desks again," Harry sighed.
Remus chuckled. "And you haven't even started the Potions classroom yet, am I right Harry?"
"Don't remind me," he groaned. "I realize now that melting things must be a special talent of Neville's, not restricted to cauldrons."
Sirius laughed and signalled to Madam Rosmerta for a platter of sandwiches. "Makes me glad I never decided to teach," he said, nudging Remus in the ribs.
"That makes two of us," he rejoined, taking a long swig out of his mug. "So, Mr. White," Remus began, as soon as Harry had stopped snorting into his drink with laughter. "Has anyone suspected anything?"
Sirius smirked. "Not a thing, as far as I'm able to tell. Only the ol' greaseball would be able to identify me correctly, and I haven't seen him the entire time I've been here."
Remus looked thoughtful. "Now that you mention it, you're right. I haven't seen Severus either." A flicker of worry appeared in his eyes. "I hope he returns soon." He lowered his voice, "The Wolfsbane Potion must be brewed soon."
Sirius set down his mug with a thud and ran a hand through his hair. "That slimy git better not have bailed out on Dumbledore or you," he growled.
"Severus may not like me, but he'd never betray Dumbledore's trust," soothed Remus.
Sirius looked at him and then quickly away. "Yeah," he said softly. "Like me."
Harry squirmed uncomfortably.
"Sirius! Stop that!" commanded Remus in a voice Harry had never heard him use. "That is in the past; it is over and done with. Severus would have found out about my condition with or without your help. He's nosy enough and smart enough to have discovered it on his own. Besides, it would have been necessary to tell him when I taught at Hogwarts during Harry's third year. No one else can make the Potion."
"We tried!" Sirius said through clenched teeth as though angry with himself.
"Yes you did, but you were always dismal at Potions. Peter was even worse, and James' best subject was Transfiguration," Remus said, the corner of his mouth quirking up in smile. "I, of course, can't even touch the stuff until it's been brewed."
"Why not?" asked Harry suddenly. They both looked at him and he felt his ears go red. "Sorry," he mumbled.
Remus smiled. "It's okay, Harry. The Wolfsbane Potion is such a big part of my life, I forget that not everyone knows the recipe." He grabbed another sandwich from the platter before continuing. "The potion has to be brewed in a cauldron lined with pure silver. A silver stirring rod is also required. As you know, werewolves are rather…. allergic to silver."
The sandwiches arrived just then and for a several minutes, the silence remained unbroken.
The rest of their time there was spent catching up with what had been happening in their lives since they had seen one another and no more talk of werewolves, or the difficult Wolfsbane Potion, intruded again.
"Minerva, have you seen Severus lately?"
Professor McGonagall turned from her contemplation of the large glowing hole that they were trying to fix in the outermost ward of Hogwarts' western side.
"No, Albus. Why do you ask?" She wondered absently if they might be able to send up a few of the house-elves, who were busy bowing themselves nearly to the ground every time a professor approached, to look and see how the edges of the hole looked. Perhaps they might be able to patch it instead of reweaving the entire ward.
"Well, he told me that he was running an errand in London but he would be back after three days at the most. He was in a desperate hurry and probably wouldn't even have told me if I hadn't seen him running down the corridor like Hagrid's pet Fluffy was at his heels. It's been nearly a fortnight since he left, however, and I haven't seen a trace of him." His tone was genial but the usual sparkle was absent from the aged wizard's eyes and the fine lines on his forehead were deepening in worry. "It's not like him to be gone when I specifically requested his help on the ward-weaving."
Professor McGonagall turned from her contemplation of the glowing hole to the Headmaster, her expression concerned. "You don't think that You-Know-Who…?"
"I hope not, Minerva. I sincerely hope not." Dumbledore fell silent. Professor McGonagall was always unnerved to see him worried. Dumbledore was one of the wisest wizards she knew and anything he was worried about was usually worth looking into.
She tried to cheer him up. "Who knows, Albus? We may be worrying without provocation. Perhaps the Ministry wanted a full report of his summer spying duties; that would certainly take at least an extra day. He may even be here at Hogwarts already, immersed in brewing a complex potion. You know how he gets, Albus, he forgets everything in light of his work." She paused a moment. "And if Vold--You-Know-Who has summoned him, we might not see him for awhile and he would not want to risk his position by sending you a message."
"As always, you are correct, Minerva." Dumbledore smiled at her. "However, I will sleep much easier knowing that he is safe." His expression brightened as he looked at someone over Minerva's shoulder. "Ah! Harry! How are you coming along?"
"Spiffing," he replied with a sneeze. "Professor, can I please cast a anti-allergen charm on myself? I can't work around Professor Flitwick's books without snee-snee…. AH-CHOO!" Harry swiped uselessly at his nose. "Sneezing," he finished, sniffling loudly.
"Gesundheit," replied Dumbledore serenely, offering Harry a blue handkerchief covered with yellow stars.
"Thag you," said Harry from behind the handkerchief.
The wind whipped around the small figure shrouded in black, ruffling the tattered and patched cloak so that it blew out dramatically around the thin frame that wore it, like the wings of a fallen angel. Aside from the whistling wind and the occasional call of a sea bird, the chalky white cliffs of the Sussex Downs were silent, peaceful even; a welcome change to the tumult that normally raged in the boy's mind night and day. A violent shiver passed through him; he always got colder when meals were scarce and this had been his longest stretch yet-- five days without a square meal. But he loved the Downs… it had been too long since he had breathed in the salty air, feeling, just for a brief moment, that he was on top of the world.
Christopher awakened in the early hours of the morning, almost tasting the salt spray on his lips. That had been the most vivid memory yet but he had been young, no more than ten years old he thought.
Staring into the darkness of his room where the digital clock shone the third hour of the morning, Christopher tried in vain to get the sound of the waves crashing against the rocks far below out of his mind.
"At last," Harry groaned, sliding into a booth at The Three Broomsticks in Hogsmeade. Saturday afternoon had arrived and he finally had a break from the scrubbing, dusting, and sweeping that had occupied him all week. He grabbed one of the frothy mugs of butterbeer sitting on the tray in front of him and gulped down nearly half of it without stopping. He grinned at the twin expressions of amusement from Sirius and Remus. "Do you know how long I've waited to relax and have a butterbeer?"
"A long time, I'm guessing," commented Lupin dryly, reaching for his own mug.
"They giving you enough work?" asked Sirius, swiping at his neatly trimmed beard with a napkin where some of his drink had dribbled.
"Let's just say that I hope to never clean another one of Neville Longbottom's desks again," Harry sighed.
Remus chuckled. "And you haven't even started the Potions classroom yet, am I right Harry?"
"Don't remind me," he groaned. "I realize now that melting things must be a special talent of Neville's, not restricted to cauldrons."
Sirius laughed and signalled to Madam Rosmerta for a platter of sandwiches. "Makes me glad I never decided to teach," he said, nudging Remus in the ribs.
"That makes two of us," he rejoined, taking a long swig out of his mug. "So, Mr. White," Remus began, as soon as Harry had stopped snorting into his drink with laughter. "Has anyone suspected anything?"
Sirius smirked. "Not a thing, as far as I'm able to tell. Only the ol' greaseball would be able to identify me correctly, and I haven't seen him the entire time I've been here."
Remus looked thoughtful. "Now that you mention it, you're right. I haven't seen Severus either." A flicker of worry appeared in his eyes. "I hope he returns soon." He lowered his voice, "The Wolfsbane Potion must be brewed soon."
Sirius set down his mug with a thud and ran a hand through his hair. "That slimy git better not have bailed out on Dumbledore or you," he growled.
"Severus may not like me, but he'd never betray Dumbledore's trust," soothed Remus.
Sirius looked at him and then quickly away. "Yeah," he said softly. "Like me."
Harry squirmed uncomfortably.
"Sirius! Stop that!" commanded Remus in a voice Harry had never heard him use. "That is in the past; it is over and done with. Severus would have found out about my condition with or without your help. He's nosy enough and smart enough to have discovered it on his own. Besides, it would have been necessary to tell him when I taught at Hogwarts during Harry's third year. No one else can make the Potion."
"We tried!" Sirius said through clenched teeth as though angry with himself.
"Yes you did, but you were always dismal at Potions. Peter was even worse, and James' best subject was Transfiguration," Remus said, the corner of his mouth quirking up in smile. "I, of course, can't even touch the stuff until it's been brewed."
"Why not?" asked Harry suddenly. They both looked at him and he felt his ears go red. "Sorry," he mumbled.
Remus smiled. "It's okay, Harry. The Wolfsbane Potion is such a big part of my life, I forget that not everyone knows the recipe." He grabbed another sandwich from the platter before continuing. "The potion has to be brewed in a cauldron lined with pure silver. A silver stirring rod is also required. As you know, werewolves are rather…. allergic to silver."
The sandwiches arrived just then and for a several minutes, the silence remained unbroken.
The rest of their time there was spent catching up with what had been happening in their lives since they had seen one another and no more talk of werewolves, or the difficult Wolfsbane Potion, intruded again.