Chapter Five
Beast of Prey
"Oh, thank you so much, Miss Lupin!" Eleanor Carpenter, every single grey hair firmly held in place by a rock-solid permanent wave, watched Ruta while she was loading half a dozen heavy flower tubs into the trunk of her aged Volvo. Mrs. Carpenter was a muggle; therefore Ruta wisely refrained from using her wand, more than thankful for the fact that plenty of exercise in fresh air kept her in form. "I told my daughter only yesterday how much I love your chrysanthemums. The colors are so exquisite, and your varieties are the only ones to bloom until Christmas."
Ruta placed the last flower tub into the trunk and closed the lid with a sigh of relief.
"I'm glad that you like them, Mrs. Carpenter," she said with a smile. "Keep the soil moist, if you please, but not too much water. They don't like to be drowned. – I'll send you the bill, as usual, together with a small bottle of my special fertilizer."
Mrs. Carpenter was obviously in a talkative mood.
"Can you imagine what happened last night!" she said, showing not the slightest inclination to get into her car. "My daughter's husband – Tom, the best sheep farmer anyone could wish for – came to the northernmost field to look after his biggest flock… and what do you think he saw?"
"I have no idea," Ruta said, sighing again and bowing to the inevitable.
"When he opened the gate, the poor things were huddled together in a corner… and they nearly overran him when they finally discovered a chance to get away. He needed hours to get them back in again, for his best sheep dogs behaved as if they were mad – first barking wildly and then hiding behind his old Land Rover, tails between their legs and whining like frightened pups."
Whatever Ruta thought of this, she had no chance to add her opinion.
"I am sure it was Ezra Donohue's savage tyke, running free and scaring them out of their wits," Mrs. Carpenter stated with utter conviction. "The old half wit should finally be dragged out of that rundown cottage of his, to move to a proper retirement home… he's much too senile to take care of any dog, let alone himself."
Ruta knew Ezra Donohue. He owned a small cottage in a hollow just outside the limits of St. Mary Green… a very shy, anxious old muggle with a stiff knee and a speech disorder that made it extremely difficult to understand what he was saying. In Ruta's opinion he - same as his dog - would never hurt a fly. All he wanted was to be left in peace, and most inhabitants of St Mary Green did him the favor.
But Eleanor Carpenter saw his shabby dwelling as a personal insult; she was the unrivalled leader of the Eskdale Arts Committee and an untiring volunteer on every commission St. Mary Green additionally had to offer. Her finger was in almost every pie from the Summerfest to the Christmas Concert and she clearly thought of the village as her very own domain. In her eyes Ezra Donohue was a smudge of dirt on a highly polished gem. And she hadn't shot her bolt yet.
"Of course he swore that he had nothing to do with Tom's scared sheep," the elder lady went on in a contemptuous tone. "Tom told me he had no idea what to make of the old bloke's mindless drivel – he just kept repeating: 'A monster in the hills… a monster in the hills!' until Tom lost his patience and gave up on him. My daughter was completely beside herself."
Mrs. Carpenter's daughter was the worst gossip-monger in St Mary Green and she had nerves of steel; Ruta highly doubted that a flock of frightened sheep would shake her peace of mind even for a second. But she refrained from making any comment.
Five minutes later the Volvo disappeared around the corner towards the main street, and Ruta saw it go with relief. It was her week off from Fionnula's Fantastic Flowers, and so far it had been a rather unusual week.
Two days after the morning when she had brought the stolen medal back to its rightful owner, she had found a small note in her mailbox in a neat, steep hand: The offer of Chess lessons still holds.
That led her to Stephen Seeker's doorstep early the same evening, where he greeted her with perfect courtesy and an unmoving face. But Winky – who still refused to be seen – had brewed her extraordinary coffee (Seeker himself preferred a strong, dark Assam tea) and served Scottish shortbread, and Ruta soon found out that she needed both to keep up with Seeker's rather unique way of introducing her to the Game of the Kings.
She had never experienced him as a teacher, but during the very first lesson she developed a rather precise idea why some of his former students still paled when his name was mentioned. He didn't waste much time talking her through the complicated rules but simply started a match, guiding her step by step through every move and mercilessly tearing apart even the smallest mistake. After fifteen minutes she was devastated, after half an hour she was ready to tip over the Chess board and flee. She looked up from the mess she had made with her white figures, close to exploding… and noticed a darkly amused glint in his eyes, telling her that he was waiting for exactly that reaction.
"It is a question of strategy, Miss Lupin," he casually remarked. "What you have to learn is to think several moves in advance… and after I have already seen you coming to quite… complicated conclusions on my behalf, this can't be entirely beyond your abilities. You were sorted into Ravenclaw house for good reason, I should hope."
"My sincere thanks for your confidence," she retorted, silently cursing herself for the huffish tone of her voice. Seeker bowed with a mocking flourish, then peered down at the Chess board again, his lips twitching.
"This is the end of your pawn, I fear," he said, moving his black pawn sideward and taking the white one away.
"Just a moment!" She frowned. "Didn't you tell me that I am only allowed to strike with my pawn diagonally?" Her white Queen gave a snort of deepest disdain, and Ruta did her best to ignore it.
"Not if you move your pawn from the base line over two fields to a position beside my own," he retorted calmly. "You have walked right into my trap, and now I'm able to strike your pawn en passant… to my great regret."
The white Queen glared at her, carved hands on her hips. Ruta shrugged apologetically and shot Stephen Seeker a piercing gaze.
"To your great regret?" She snorted, but then her sense of humor got the upper hand. "I'd say you are enjoying this entirely too much to regret anything."
He gave a surprisingly boyish grin.
"I must confess there are some pleasant aspects," he said, and for a fleeting second his stern, pale face was carefree and almost startlingly young. Their eyes met, and she could clearly see the challenge in the black gaze. „Would you like to try again?"
She raised her chin. "Of course!"
Ruta did try again, more than once, and it took her two sessions and a dozen attempts to get at least an idea of the deeper structure and elegance of this kingly game. Between the lessons Stephen Seeker used the opportunity to fill the gaps in his knowledge about St. Mary Green and Berwick. At the end of this week he not only knew most of the juicier anecdotes of the area, but he was also thoroughly informed about Harry Potter's life after the Second Battle, his career and his family. Ruta knew pretty well that he was picking her brain, but she didn't mind: he deserved to know about the well-being of the boy he had protected for so long. Those conversations were only short breaks anyway… before he ruthlessly shoved her back on the mine field of yet another chess match. Once or twice between Monday and Friday she nearly reached a hard-fought draw, and she wore the short flash of approval in his eyes like an order. But the most astonishing victory she achieved during this remarkable week was to finally conquer Winky's trust.
She was aware that that the house elf saw her as a danger for her master's safety and probably as a general threat simply because she was a woman – a species the former Headmaster of Hogwarts had rarely shown any particular interest in. But she also knew that Seeker's servant was very proud of her cooking, and she had discovered yet another small detail: Winky had fallen in love with her earrings.
They were nothing special… only a pair of golden, heart-shaped studs she had been wearing for years. But when on Wednesday that week she finally ventured into the kitchen, delivering a well-prepared hymn of praise for Winky's baking and her incomparable coffee, she caught the house elf staring in admiration at her earlobes. She wore her hair pinned up that afternoon, and the small hearts sparkled in the sun streaming in through the kitchen window. Winky accepted her speech without turning a hair, but when Ruta withdrew into the living room, she shot another, longing gaze at the simple, little jewels.
On Friday Ruta managed her first "real" stalemate and Winky served two glasses of home made cherry liqueur to celebrate the occasion. This time Ruta's hair fell over her shoulders unbraided, covering both ears, and shortly before she had to leave she produced a small, prettily wrapped package from the pocket of her skirt and handed it over to the surprised house elf.
"I would like to give you this," she said, "as a small sign of respect and honest appreciation. I hope you like it."
Lamp like, huge eyes stared down at the sudden gift.
"This is for Winky?" the elf squeaked. "Miss brought this – for Winky?"
She turned to her master, a nervous question in her eyes. Stephen Seeker leaned back in his chair, turning the delicate stem of the liqueur glass between is fingers and nodding his approval. "Of course you may accept it, if you like."
They both watched how Winky freed the item out of the colorful wrapping paper. It was a small velvet bag, and one moment later two golden hearts tumbled into her palm.
The effect was truly dramatic. Winky burst into a flood of tears, clutching the unexpected treasure against her heart and constantly wiping her eyes with a corner of the pristine kitchen towel she wore. "Thank you!" she sobbed, "Thank you, Miss… Winky doesn't deserve this, Winky never hoped… oh, thank you!" And with this tearful shout of joy she vanished into the kitchen, leaving behind a stunned silence.
Finally Stephen Seeker cleared his throat. He looked at Ruta and she looked back, her eyes dancing.
"So my house elf has a fancy for jewels," he said. "Who would have thought it?"
"I would," Ruta gave back. "You may be an expert on potions and Chess, but I know all there is to know about women. And Winky is a woman after all."
He raised his glass in a silent salute, eyeing her thoughtfully.
"That should teach me never to underestimate you," he stated, his face relaxing in a crooked smile. "Even if this was a shockingly unscrupulous case of bribery."
Ruta savored the rest of the liqueur.
"Maybe," she said, putting down the glass. "But we all use different methods to win our personal battles, don't we?"
vvvvv
Now it was Friday evening, and with a start Ruta realized that between the good dozen orders that had kept her occupied in the daytime and the Chess lessons in the evening hours she had actually disregarded Andromeda and Teddy. She had only seen them three times last week; since Teddy had stolen the medal ten days ago, every meeting had been tense and slightly uncomfortable. Whenever she visited his grandmother and spoke to him, his answers were curt and monosyllabic at best. He always retired into his room before long, obviously disappointed, still sulking about his house arrest and feeling thoroughly misunderstood. With a surprisingly sharp pang of guilt she remembered that one of her most cherished habits in Teddy's eyes – reading bed time stories to him while he already lay under the covers - had been completely neglected since his silly prank. Under normal circumstances she would have stormed the fortress of his room long ago… but though she hated to admit it, the memory of his careless fraud kept gnawing on her. Stephen Seeker's life had been a long string of disappointments, of lies and betrayal, and that it was Teddy of all people who added another one to the painful list was something she could not so easily forgive.
Silly cow, she scolded herself. You ought to be the last one to brood over the boy's misdeeds… and if you don't clear the air, you will lose his trust.
Suddenly she recalled promising Andromeda to come over and bring her a basket full of the first young Brussels sprouts as soon as they were harvested from the bed in her back garden. Time to fetch the Brussels sprouts she had gathered this morning – and to finally reconcile with the boy.
When she entered Andromeda's house fifteen minutes later, she saw two cloaks on the pegs for guests. One was Harry Potter's favorite leather jacket, the other one a wonderfully familiar baggy cloak, littered with faded green stains and oily splatters. Ruta took a deep breath, enjoying the heady scent of flower and fern, moss and manure... and was that catnip? ... that clung to the faded wool.
She dropped the bag of Brussels sprouts on the floor and felt her face relax in a huge smile. "Neville…?"
The door to the living room opened and a tall, young man appeared on the doorstep.
"Ruta!" She was caught in a bear hug. "My goodness, how long has it been this time? Half a year?"
She kissed his cheek. "More than eight months, since Christmas. I was sorry to hear that you couldn't pay us the visit you promised us at midsummer. How is your grandmother now?"
"Better," he said, a small shadow darkening his open, friendly face. "I guess we have to live with the fact that she's getting really frail now, and a dislocated hip is not a small matter, even for a witch."
Augusta Longbottom had raised him after his parents had been tortured and driven into madness by Death Eaters, and he loved her deeply. A few weeks ago she had insisted on doing the plum harvest in the garden of her little house all on her own; while maneuvering the full basket around with her wand, she had stumbled into a mouse hole and fallen when the basket had hit her with full momentum. This was the reason why he hadn't been able to begin his holiday in Berwick earlier.
He pulled Ruta over into the living room, his arm around her shoulder.
"Look who we have here!" he said, and Harry Potter slowly rose from a deep, overstuffed chair, holding out his hand. Ruta raised one eyebrow, grinning.
"Hail to the hero!" she said, mimicking a yawn. "Hello Harry… I hope you understand that I'm much more enthusiastic about seeing Neville here. I meet you nearly every week, after all."
"Thank you very much," Harry retorted, bowing ironically, a mischievous sparkle in his green eyes. "I know he is the love of your life."
"My roses and plants are the love of my life," she mildly replied, "though I must admit that marriage to a Hogwarts Professor of Herbology would be a great temptation."
Neville clutched at his heart, sighing dramatically.
"Blimey!" he exclaimed. "My first proposal ever!"
"Hopefully not your last one, you scallywag," Ruta laughed. "And I said that I'm tempted to marry you, not determined. – How are Ginny and James?"
"Ginny's well, but Jamie's teething," Harry said. "Neville brewed him a catnip tea to ease the pain, but I fear the little one was not too happy with it; in fact he spat half the bottle on Neville's coat."
"Ah – so that's the reason for the smell!" Ruta caught the sudden redness of Neville's face and gave him a comforting smile. "Try and offer him a peeled piece of licorice next time. Tastes nice and sweet, and he has something to chew on… that helps, normally."
"You should really come to Hogwarts, you know," Neville said, suddenly turning serious. "After beginning that study on continental and insular magical herbs in cooperation with Beauxbatons I could really use an extra hand… especially one as skilled as yours. I'd still love to have you as my assistant, and the Headmistress would accept your application any time."
"I'm flattered, quite honestly," Ruta answered. "But I decided long ago to help Dromeda and Teddy, and I'm rather busy here… even if some of my Muggle customers are a bit exhausting at times."
She gave them a humorous summary of her conversation with Mrs. Carpenter, also mentioning the mysteriously frightened sheep and the mutterings of the old man.
"A monster in the hills?" Harry asked, frowning. "What kind of monster?"
"He's a harmless old pensioner," Ruta explained. "I think Tom scared him terribly, and he was afraid of losing his home and his dog… who is completely harmless, too, by the way. Hector's as old as the hills, and if he caught sight of a flock of sheep, he'd probably chicken out and run the opposite direction. Poor Ezra merely blurted out with the first thing that came into his mind, to make Tom clear away and leave him in peace."
Andromeda Tonks came in with a tea tray, Teddy in her wake. The boy beamed at his godfather, gave Neville a dimpled smile and shot Ruta a cautious gaze before he flopped down on the sofa. Harry turned to Dromeda .
"What about the idea to take Teddy with us this evening for a night at his godfather's?" he said. "Ginny would be delighted to see a child big enough not to need a bottle and fresh diapers for a change."
Teddy's face lit up with a sudden hope, but when Ruta opened her mouth to answer, he bit his lip.
"I can't come for a visit," he said, his tone sullen. "I still have house arrest."
The elder woman shot Ruta an enquiring look.
"Dear, don't you think…"
Ruta's gaze was still fixed on Teddy's face; she silently willed him to look at her, but all she got to see was a shock of hazelnut brown hair and a stubborn little nose.
"That house arrest will be over on Sunday," she said as airily as possible. "Perhaps he could spend two or three days with you next week? All I want him to understand…"
This was getting increasingly difficult… but she had to try nonetheless.
"All I want him to understand is that some things have consequences," she continued the sentence. "This might help him not to make the same mistake again."
"Mistake?" Harry asked. "What did he do? – Teddy?"
Teddy didn't say a word, and Ruta silently cursed herself for not handling the situation with more tact. If the boy felt exposed and publicly judged right now, she could hardly bear him a grudge. Andromeda opened her mouth, but it was Ruta who spoke first.
"I left a bag of Brussels Sprouts outside," she said, meaningfully seeking Neville's gaze. This is something grave and personal, her eyes said, and rather embarrassing for Teddy to boot. Would you…?
One of the things she really loved about Neville was his keen perception. "Oh… Brussels sprouts!" He spoke with enthusiasm. "It is months since I had them… and that was here, a few days after Christmas! They were delicious… Mrs. Tonks, you would certainly be so kind to tell me everything about your recipe, wouldn't you?"
"Erh… yes, Neville, of course." Andromeda frowned, a little confused. Neville quickly got up from his chair and all but hauled the elder woman out of the room, chatting merrily all the time. But before Ruta could use the chance she was given, the opportunity was already lost. Teddy – who was obviously expecting a thorough, embarrassing report of his misdeeds – shot out of the door with lightning speed before she or Harry could react.
Ruta sighed in frustration, and Harry stared after his godson, a deep fold between his brows.
"Neville hates Brussels sprouts," he said. "Same as nearly everyone I know does. No wonder the house elves almost never serve them at the big banquet in Hogwarts." His eyes turned back to her. "It must be something serious, then," he remarked. "What was it?"
"We have a new neighbor," She chose her words carefully. "The man just moved here a few weeks ago, and he's a very withdrawn type of person, though Teddy managed to meet him. And he and I have had a little Smalltalk over the fence now and then. But last week Teddy sneaked into his garden and made a fire."
"Oh no." Harry grimaced. "Not again."
"The fire was not the problem," Ruta continued, still feeling as if walking on thin ice. "Instead of throwing him out immediately, the man – Mr. Seeker is his name – was kind enough to invite Teddy in for tea, and Teddy paid him back by rummaging through the drawers and stealing him an old… some old medal he found among his belongings."
"He stole…" Harry blinked. "Why for heaven's sake did he do that?"
"Curiosity, perhaps… and the habit he has of stuffing everything within reach into his pockets," she said. "Or… honestly, Harry, I don't know. But later that same evening I found the medal, and that is the reason for the house arrest."
"Aha." Harry cleared his throat. "Well… in that case I presume it can't be helped."
There were fast, soft steps moving up the stairs towards the bedrooms, and Ruta sighed again.
"Oh dear… I really wish I would have been a bit wiser in this matter. I have only made things worse for him, and now I definitely am persona non grata." She gave Harry a weak smile. "At least he's not mad at you."
"Thank heavens," Harry dryly said. For a few moments they both were silent; they could hear Neville and Andromeda's laughter in the kitchen.
Then he spoke again.
"What kind of man is this… what did you call him? Seeker?"
It would have been foolish to expect that he didn't want to know.
"He…" Ruta took a deep breath, feeling her heartbeat throbbing in her ears. "He is something of a recluse. A bit brusque, perhaps – I think he doesn't trust easily. And for Teddy to find the chink in his armor and then doing something like that..." She caught herself back from revealing too much. Trying to keep something from Harry was an arduous task, and she didn't like putting him off the scent at all.
She rose from her chair.
"I have to leave now. Mrs. Smythe, our local apothecary, will appear on my doorstep any moment, to collect two dozen rosebushes I've cultivated for her. I'd like to come over to Berwick tomorrow, to see the little one and Ginny. Give her my love, will you?"
"Of course." Harry smiled at her; it was the open smile of someone who had finally found his place in life, and a happiness he'd never dreamed of having. She had known him since after the second battle of Hogwarts; they had first met at Remus' and Tonks' funeral. Aside from her own, overwhelming grief she kept a very vivid memory of how he had been then – deathly pale, burning eyes in a narrow face, a very young man, literally falling apart when the terrible tension of the fight he had won against all hopes and expectations finally wore off. That was more than eight years ago now… and fate had finally decided to reward him with the family he'd always longed for, and a peace of mind he'd never known.
He followed her into the vestibule, waited for her to say goodbye to Neville and Dromeda and opened the door for her. She stepped out into the sunshine.
"Ruta?"
She looked at him.
"Would that Mr. Seeker do any harm to… is it possible that he might…" A short, awkward pause. "… that he… goodness, you know what I mean!"
"The answer is no, Harry." She spoke firmly. "Mr. Seeker is a good and honorable man. He would never do any harm to any child."
He blushed, giving her a wry, slightly ashamed grin. "You know I had to ask, don't you?"
"No harm done," she replied, suddenly remembering the very first words Stephen Seeker had ever spoken to her. "Have a nice evening, Harry."
vvvvv
That evening Ruta sat at her small desk, writing the bills for Mrs. Carpenter's chrysanthemums and Mrs. Smythe's roses, and Neville sat in Andromeda's house for a late dinner and bravely washed down the taste of Brussels sprouts with a glass of wine. Stephen Seeker sat in his study, reading a letter he had received earlier that day, and Ginny Potter sat in a wing chair in her house in Berwick, Baby James in her arms, who had finally fallen asleep. Harry sat beside the fireplace, patiently waiting for the strategically convenient moment to carry his son to the nursery and smiling at his wife over the downy little head.
In his shabby cottage, Ezra Donohue sat close to the fireplace. It was still warm outside, but the coldness he felt never left his flesh and bone anymore. It was the curse of age and bad memories; the War had left him the evil heritage of bad dreams, as vivid and fresh as if he had just left the beaches of Normandy after D-Day with a crippled knee, heading home to a country where no one was waiting for him. He had forgotten about the farm he lost in the difficult years after the War, he had forgotten about his drained-away hopes and dreams, and finally his entire world had shrunk to the walls of this run-down, little house.
Hector, lying at his feet as usual, chose this moment to rise slowly. On four arthritic legs he stalked towards the door, and Ezra heaved himself out of his chair to let him out. He thought of Tom Kerrey, of his loud, booming voice and the shrill, angry yapping of his arrogant sheep dogs. And he tried his very best not to think about the shadow he'd seen coming down from Blea Tarn late last night… dark and enormous and moving in a weird way that still made his skin crawl.
If they would only leave him in peace… all of them.
The moon was waning; the shimmering coin in the cloudless, starry sky had lost its perfect roundness. Ezra stood on the doorstep, watching Hector walk over to the tree where he normally relieved himself. The gnarled oak in his unkempt garden and the scrubby hedge were pitch black silhouettes against a silent landscape of pure silver.
Suddenly Hector gave a short bark, standing in the middle of the path, his head turned towards the garden gate. The barking broke off, replaced by a growl deep in his throat, and then he turned around and ran back to where Ezra was standing, as fast as his stiff joints allowed. The old man could feel the body of the dog, pressed against his shins and trembling violently. He patted Hector's head.
"Come on, old boy, no' un will do yer any harm…" he murmured. "no' un will come 'ere…"
But then he saw something dark move behind the hedge, something alive, something very huge, and a scared being deep inside his heart immediately recognized it, turning his heartbeat to a frenzied drum roll and making him cling to the doorframe.
It had come back. The monster had come back.
Then the gate flew open and the… thing came down the path, all glowing eyes and horrent fur, and incredibly fast. Too late Ezra tried to retreat into the house; there was no time to close the door into the face of the terror approaching with stupefying speed. The last thing Ezra heard was a terrible sound between laughter and roar, and then it was there, tossing Hector aside with a single, violent blow, digging its teeth in the old man's neck and tearing him down.