Chapter Two: The Headmaster's Request
Fiona stiffened at once. Surely the headmaster of Hogwarts had not just apparated into her kitchen. She hurried from her bedroom, suddenly very aware of her aquamarine and violet striped socks.
"Hello?" She called out. When she turned the corner into the kitchen, she caught sight of Albus Dumbledore, famous wizard and Headmaster of Hogwarts, standing at her counter, admiring the salt and pepper shakers on her windowsill.
"Hello, Fiona." He turned slowly. He moved fluidly, a grace that she had fondly recalled from the days she was a student. For as long as she had been acquainted with Dumbledore, he had carried himself in a manner of calm that seemed to radiate from his person.
He smiled a warm smile at her. It extinguished much of the alarm that had coursed through her at his surprise appearance. She could not help but smile back.
"Hello, Professor. How—" she began, but he interrupted.
"Albus." He corrected. "Please."
She felt heat rise in her cheeks. Instead of responding to his insistence, she continued with her initial greeting. "How are you?"
"I'm well, my dear." He glanced around the kitchen. Fiona became aware of the tidying she would have done, had she known he would be standing in her home. "I see you have been rather well, yourself. The articles in the Daily Prophet and my contacts at St. Mungo's have informed me of your many accomplishments since your graduation from Hogwarts."
Fiona blushed. He had been keeping tabs on her? She then excused the warmth in her belly by convincing herself he had probably followed up with all of his students; she was hardly an exception.
"I have been given some wonderful opportunities lately. I'm very grateful for that." She tried to dismiss his compliment as politely as she knew how.
"Always so modest." He chuckled, a glint of a much younger man in his eyes. Even behind his half-moon glasses, his intense blue eyes were pronounced. "I remember it well. Even when you were made Prefect and received top marks on your O.W.L.s, you remained humble." He tilted his chin down, looking at her over his glasses. "Not a quality many Ravenclaw's possess."
The teasing smile made the truth of his words sound less harsh. Fiona chuckled, finally feeling her shoulders relax and the tension with which she held her spine start to decrease.
"Thank you, sir." She smiled. "I am impressed you remember me so well."
"I am an old man, Miss McBride, but my mind remains as sharp as a vampire's fang."
"Oh, I didn't mean—"
Dumbledore held up his hand, "I know you meant no harm, Fiona. I am only joking." Fiona chuckled uncomfortably.
Fiona McBride was one of top researchers at St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries. She had graduated top of her class from Hogwarts and went on to graduate top of her class at Warwick's School for Magical Healing, the top school in Europe. Yet standing in front Albus Dumbledore in her modest kitchen made her feel like a nervous first year, waiting impatiently under the brim of the Sorting Hat.
"I'm sorry, sir. I'm not used to having guests of your caliber over on a rainy Saturday morning." She chuckled at herself, hoping her candor would diffuse the tension.
"I apologize for the surprise. I don't make it a habit to pop in without much warning on my previous students." He smoothed the front of the purple robes that draped over his tall, lean frame. "If I were not pressed for time, I would have given you much more notice before my visit."
"What is it that's so urgent, Professor?" She could not help but allow her curiosity to get the best of her.
"Shall we sit?" Dumbledore featured a graceful arm toward her living room.
"Oh! Of course!" Fiona tried to maintain her fluster, "please, make yourself comfortable. Can I offer you something to drink? I had just made myself tea before you arrived."
"With lemon, if you please." Dumbledore responded with a smile. Fiona hurried over to prepare his tea while he took a seat on the large armchair beside her fireplace.
Fiona waved her wand and levitated Dumbledore's cup and saucer into the room ahead of her while she balanced hers in her hand, a tin of biscuits held tightly under her arm. After setting them all on the table between them, she sat on the corner cushion of the couch, directly across from the headmaster.
"Thank you." He smiled fondly as he reached for the tea. He took a long sip and sighed. "Delicious."
"Thank you, sir. Please, have some biscuits as well. Is there anything else I can get you?" Her mind wandered through the inventory she had in her refrigerator. Hopefully he did not have too outlandish of a request.
"This will do just fine, thank you." He took another sip. "Lovely socks, by the way."
Fiona looked down at her socks, embarrassed.
"My mother has a tendency to send me quite vibrant pairs for the holidays." She curled her toes as if it would hide the bright colors from view.
"I am quite fond of socks myself," Dumbledore pulled at his robes, revealing a pair of yellow and orange argyle sock on his own foot. "I just picked these up last week from a muggle specialty shop."
Fiona giggled in response. The quirk humanized Dumbledore to where she felt she could sit back in her seat a bit as she stared across at him.
"From my understanding, Fiona, your research lies primarily in studying werewolves. Is that correct?" Dumbledore let the length of his robes fall back to the floor and the tone he took on was much more serious.
"Yes, sir." Fiona cleared her throat. "I've recently taken a sabbatical in order to further my research on the medical treatment of werewolves in other countries. Specifically focused on that of developing countries. There are some methods and treatments that are popular in some African tribes that have not been tested in our part of the world."
Fiona knew that he had not asked for so many details. It was hard for her to remain concise when asked about her passion. Dumbledore smiled politely all the same. If he had been put off by her lengthy response, he did not show it.
"I'm sure your parents are very proud," he expressed fondly. Fiona smiled back.
"It's my goal to make them proud."
"I am impressed with the nature of your focus," Dumbledore said plainly, only to change the subject quickly. "Do you know the wizard Remus Lupin?"
"The name sounds familiar. Should I?" She could not quite place where she may have known the name. Surely he had not been a student at Hogwarts during her time. She remembered most of her peers, though it was many years ago.
"He is a former student of mine. He was a part of the resistance many years ago. Friends of the Potters. He is also," Dumbledore looked over his glasses at her, "a werewolf."
"I see," Fiona swallowed hard and nodded. "We have records of all of the werewolves in the country at St. Mungo's. I may have run across his name once or twice."
"He was also a member of our staff at Hogwarts. He taught Defense Against the Dark Arts last term." That was how she knew him. His resignation from Hogwarts due to his status was reported on in the Daily Prophet the year before. It was a slanderous article that had caused Fiona to write a letter to the editor. In the letter, she attacked the reporter, Rita Skeeter, as well as the paper itself, outraged by the lack of insight and sensitivity of the article. It was never printed.
"I think I heard something about that."
"Remus Lupin is a dear friend of mine. His resignation did not come as any surprise, but he is sorely missed." Dumbledore spoke in a calm sadness. "He has struggled to integrate himself fully into society out of fear of exposure. I feel that the events that occurred at Hogwarts last year have only caused him to retreat further."
Fiona was saddened by this. She how common it was for werewolves to seek isolation for a number of reasons. Some feared the rejection of others, and so they chose to live on the fringes of society on their own. Others were ashamed, choosing to punish themselves by staying away from those who may see them for what they truly are. Many also lived in fear of hurting others, choosing to retreat to the wilderness and live far away from civilization, knowing the distance could keep others safe from harm. Whatever the reason, the life of a werewolf was painful and lonely. Fiona felt some of that pain in hearing Dumbledore's words.
"I know that story all too well." Fiona remarked sadly.
"And that is what has brought me here, Miss McBride." Dumbledore looked from the fire to the young woman across from him. Though it had been over a decade since she sat across from him in her office, grinning as she had been made Head Girl for her final year, she still carried traces of her youthful glow. "I am hoping that you could assist me in helping Remus in his current state. When at Hogwarts, he was given the Wolfsbane potion by our potions master, Severus Snape. I'm afraid now that he is no longer a member of our staff, we are unable to administer and properly care for him as we did this past year."
"I'd be more than willing to do what I can, Professor." Fiona sat up in her chair, adjusting her olive green tunic to avoid it wrinkling from her poor posture. "Our wing at St. Mungo's is always open-"
"Unfortunately," Dumbledore cut her off. "Remus is quite adamant in his refusal to enter into the care of the Hospital. It is also difficult for him to afford such expensive treatment with the limited opportunities for employment."
Fiona nodded. She was aware of the buckets of galleons that wizarding families handed over to cover the costs of the administration of the expensive treatment of lycanthropy. For many, it was the reality that they may never be able to experience a month without a dangerous, painful transformation in their lives. The intricate and difficult task of making the Wolfsbane potion, as well as the heavy expense of its many ingredients, made it difficult for providers to lower the costs. The limited quantity also called for a steep increase in its price. This was one of the many motivations Fiona found fueling her desire to find alternative methods of treatment and, hopefully, a cure.
"What I am asking of you, Fiona, is not a simple task. I know that you are very busy with your current responsibilities. However, I am hopeful that you may find the time to assist me in what I believe may save this man's life." Fiona felt the weight of what was being asked of her begin to settle into her stomach. "I am more than willing to invest in Remus's care financially. However, what I would need from you would require time, much energy, and quite a bit of personal investment on your part."
As much as Fiona had enjoyed the calm, calculated manner in which Dumbledore spoke, she found it quite daunting at this point, when she just wished he would fall upon the point of his request. The tension in the room seemed to thicken the air and caused a sort of restlessness underneath her skin. She had the instinct to get up and move, but did not want to seem uninterested or uninvested in the conversation.
"I would like you to create the Wolfsbane potion and administer it to Remus on a monthly basis." Dumbledore shifted underneath his flowing cloak. "While transformed, I'd like you to remain in his company, to monitor him, just as you would do if he were in your care at St. Mungo's. I am hopeful that alleviating his pain and giving him some much needed socialization will allow him to return to a more healthy, and dare I say, happy, state."
"Of course." Fiona didn't bat an eye before her response slipped from her mouth as natural as an exhale. She refrained from pressing her fingertips to her lips, as if trying to catch the words that had fallen from them without much thought.
If Dumbledore was surprised at her quick response, he did not show it. He simply locked eyes with her and allowed his mouth to curl upward into a warm, tight-lipped smile.