Chapter 10: Before the Battle
Dumbledore, on one of his rare visits to Grimmauld Place that spring, asked Remus to start liaising with the werewolves. It was an analog to Hagrid and Olympe Maxime's mission to the giants and, Remus thought grimly, almost equally likely to succeed. But Dumbledore wanted it done, and no one said no to Albus Dumbledore. He had been right so often where others had been wrong and—Remus thought gratefully—he was right about me.
The first step in Dumbledore's plan was the compilation of a master list of all werewolves in the United Kingdom, with their locations, case histories, and known political affiliations. There were more of them by far than Remus had realized. There had, he noticed, been a lot of bites in the First War. Mostly by Fenrir Greyback. Some of them looked like political bites. Then a period of inactivity, and then, recently, a small but discernible spike . . . It was a grim business. It was also a lot of work. Remus, glancing at the calendar, noted wryly that they were nearing the longest day of the year.
Thursday began badly when Severus Snape's Patronus zipped into the Grimmauld Place kitchen at breakfast time and informed them that Minerva McGonagall was in St. Mungo's suffering from critical spell damage inflicted by Ministry Aurors.
"Damn it, doesn't Kingsley keep track of these things?" roared Sirius, who was mixing Remus's potion (Molly was busy and Tonks hadn't been around much, but Remus still hadn't mustered the nerve to mix the potion himself). "He's supposed to be keeping track! Doesn't bother to tell us a thing—"
"Kingsley had yesterday off, remember?" asked Remus reasonably.
"What he needs a day off for—if I were free—"
"Between the Ministry and the Order, he hasn't had a full day off in two weeks," pointed out Remus. "And we'll be up a creek if he goes sick—"
"Well, Tonks, then, she's in the Auror Office too—"
"Tonks was on guard duty last night. She's just gotten off. She probably doesn't know a thing about it."
"And Moody?"
"That's Moody now," sighed Remus, recognizing the familiar crunch-tap, crunch-tap in the front hall. He downed the potion in one foul swig. "Look, you tell him, okay? And he can tell the others. I've got a hell of a day ahead, and if I leave now, I can spare twenty minutes for St. Mungo's."
Minerva was unconscious and he was not allowed to see her.
It was past ten o'clock that night when Remus walked back into the kitchen of Grimmauld Place. Sirius, Tonks, and Kingsley Shacklebolt were sitting around the table, the remains of a long-eaten meal before them. Tonks was drumming the fingers of her left hand on the edge of the table as her right hand manipulated a raggedy quill, twirling it like a baton (and occasionally dropping it). Kingsley was leaning back in his chair, staring at the ceiling and grinding his teeth. Sirius was drinking whiskey and playing with the shot glass. No one spoke.
"What's wrong?" demanded Remus, looking from one of them to another.
"Take your potion," muttered Tonks. "It's on the sideboard. All you need to do is add the chopped wolfsbane and stir three times."
"In a minute," snapped Remus. He inhaled. "I'm sorry, Tonks, you're right. I'm in a really bad mood tonight. Just tell me quickly what happened."
Nearly fifteen years ago, Remus had walked into another kitchen and found three other people sitting around another table in this same tense silence. Then it had been Minerva who was absentmindedly grinding her teeth. Elphias Doge was playing with the silverware and Mad-Eye was drinking whiskey. The night the war ended, the night Sirius was sent to Azkaban. It had been almost full moon then, too, Remus remembered, but in those days there had been no Wolfsbane Potion to take, and no one to tell him to take it.
"Snape sent his Patronus here earlier this evening," said Kingsley bluntly. "There was some sort of scene at Hogwarts—Dolores Umbridge caught Harry in her office—and Harry told Snape that Voldemort was torturing Sirius in the bowels of the Ministry."
"That's absurd," breathed Remus. "Harry knows that Sirius isn't leaving Grimmauld Place."
"Harry can see into Voldemort's mind, remember? Or thinks he can."
"He's manipulating it," said Remus, sinking into a chair as his heart sank in his stomach. "He's putting images in Harry's mind. To lure him—"
"To the Department of Mysteries," interjected Tonks. "That's what we're afraid of. Take your potion." She shoved the goblet in front of him.
He drank.
"Mad-Eye was here when the message came," continued Kingsley. "He's trying to make contact with Dumbledore. It's pretty damned complicated, though, since Dumbledore didn't tell any of us where he went. And we need to be ready to move at any minute."
"How many people have we got?" asked Remus. "Just three?"
Sirius nearly choked on his whiskey.
"Mad-Eye is upstairs," said Kingsley. "He'll be back any minute."
"If there's a battle tonight, I'm coming," said Sirius.
"Sirius—I just don't know—"
"You used to like fighting with me, Moony. You used to think I was rather good at it."
"For Merlin's sake, Sirius, I don't doubt your skill. There is no one I would rather have on my side. But it will blow your cover entirely, and it may also blow the cover of Grimmauld Place, and I don't know if we're ready—"
"Let him come," snapped Tonks. "Sirius isn't a coward."
Remus turned. He looked at her. Their eyes met.
"I didn't mean to imply that anyone present was a coward in battle," said Tonks crisply. "I meant that Sirius isn't a coward about living his life."
Remus's facial muscles twitched, but all that came out was an angry snarl. A werewolf snarl, Remus thought, chagrined. Tonks jumped up and ran out of the room.
"Be nice to her, Moony," said Sirius.
"When have I not been nice to her? And doesn't she have to be nice to me?"
Sirius shrugged. "Girls you're in love with always get under your skin. Or so I understand. From James."
"When you take your girlfriend to the park," said Kingsley, "or to Kew—"
"—as the Muggles do," interjected Sirius.
"—it's customary to put your arm around her, and tender her a little affection—"
"—or at any rate not push her away if she tries to tender you a little affection," finished Sirius.
Remus felt like slapping him. He slapped the table instead. The silverware rattled, and an empty whiskey bottle slid onto the floor and rolled towards the fireplace.
"That was a private conversation we had at Kew," he said. "I thought Tonks understood that. I guess I overestimated her."
"Don't blame her, Remus," said Kingsley in his deep, mellow voice. "It's our fault. We were twitting her about you and whether she was seeing you on the sly. She told us the great romance was off, but we just kept teasing her—Sirius said a few choice things—"
Remus looked from Kingsley to Sirius. "I don't think I want to hear them," he said.
"—and she told us about Kew. To prove to us it was all off."
"It was the worst news I'd heard in a long time," said Sirius. "Not excepting the war."
"I'm sorry," said Remus. "Merlin knows it's not what I want either."
"You could have been my cousin," said Sirius.
"I look on you as a brother," said Remus.
"It's not that I want Tonks for you so that we can be related," said Sirius. "I want you for Tonks."
There was a clatter on the stairs and a blinding flash of light. Mad-Eye and Tonks stumbled into the kitchen from one direction just as an enormous misty lizard shot into the kitchen from the other. It was Severus Snape's Patronus: a chameleon.
"Ick," muttered Tonks under her breath. This was her ritual response to every message Snape sent by Patronus.
"They've gone to the Ministry," said Kingsley, taking the message.
"They? Harry and Ron and Hermione?"
"And Ginny and Neville and Luna Lovegood. On thestrals."
Tonks blinked. Remus wondered if she was thinking about Neville. On a thestral.
"Snape wants as many of us as possible to go to their aid," continued Kingsley. "And Sirius to stay here and make contact with Dumbledore."
"Not on your life!" exclaimed Sirius, rising.
"You're coming," said Remus. It was more a statement than a question.
Sirius clapped him on the shoulder. "Kreacher!" he yelled. "Kreacher!"