Chapter Nine
A Family Curse
"Blimey, Harry... are you sure?"
Ron Weasley's voice was barely more than a shocked whisper. It was the day after Fenrir Greyback's brutal attack, and he, his wife and Harry Potter were gathered in Andromeda Tonks' silent living room. The late forenoon was cold and grey, driving away the warmth of the late summer with thick clouds and rain. Harry stood in front of the fireplace, staring into the flames. He spoke without turning.
"Of course I'm sure. Do you really think I wouldn't recognize that face?"
Hermione Weasley sat in the rocking chair close to the window. She wore her lush, brown hair in a thick braid, and her clear face was a little pale. The sudden, middle-of-the-night end to her holiday had left her visibly affected.
"Harry." Her tone was faintly nervous. "It's just… it's just that we saw him die, eight years ago."
"I know." Harry turned to her; his green eyes behind the glasses were tired and angry at the same time. "Only that he didn't really die. So far I have no idea how he survived Nagini's attack - the healer turned up just then, and there wasn't enough time to learn more - but believe me, that man is Severus Snape."
"But what on earth is he doing here?" Ron blurted out, leaning in, both fists on his knees. "I mean, if he's hiding you'd expect him to keep as far away from England as possible... and then he hangs around in this village, just three miles away from where you live?"
"I have no idea... but I intend to find out, and soon." Harry's tone was grim. "Anyway... whatever he is doing here, he helped Neville and me to get rid of Fenrir Greyback. And he's not the reason I sent for you. We already had bigger problems before I knew who he was."
"Oh, I don't know," Ron yawned, but above the long freckled nose his eyes were alert and observant. "I think having a werewolf who's been dead for eight years, killed by a man who's been dead for exactly the same amount of time counts as a pretty big problem. Makes for a good story though."
"It would," Harry gave back, "Except that I was there too, along with Neville, and Rita Skeeter would swallow any bait together with the fishing rod if she saw the chance to write yet another schmaltzy article about a heroic deed of the Boy Who Lived."
Hermione snorted. "She would eat her own wand raw if she knew the rest of that story; Severus Snape rises from his grave to protect you from the most dangerous werewolf alive and the two of you together defeat the menace." She grimaced. "She would probably forget to mention Neville in her article, though."
"There must be no article," Harry said, breathing deeply. "Forget about who exactly was the hero yesterday, forget even about Snape - the most important, the most dangerous thing is that Greyback changed into a wolf even though the moon was not full." He saw that Hermione opened her mouth - doubtlessly to object - and raised his hand. "I know it's impossible, but I saw it. Believe me, he was fully changed. I had a short talk with Kingsley Shacklebolt last night, and to say that he was alarmed about Greyback's unexpected ability would be the understatement of the year. This morning - when you still were at The Burrow - he sent me an owl. There were rumors that Greyback had escaped after the battle. Ambrose Smithwick from the Werewolf Capture Unit insists that the strongest possiblilty leads to France and to Austria, but somewhere in Vienna the trace ended in smoke, half a dozen years ago."
He began to pace the room.
"Of course most of the werewolves who joined Voldemort were very cautious just after his downfall… but after a while hunger or greed drove them out of their holes, and the Werewolf Capture Unit caught most of them, dead or alive… but they couldn't find Greyback. So they decided that he'd crawled away to die."
He stood at the window now, his back turned to his friends, speaking softly.
"Last year Shacklebolt received a request for mutual assistance from the Ministry of Magic in Romania. You know how bad it was there under Ceaucescu -- even for magic folk, but they've done a lot better since he's gone and they're chary of asking for help outright. They'd much rather embark on a project of mutual cooperation, to establish friendly and stable relationships."
"Hear, hear!" Ron piped up from the depth of his comfortable chair. Hermione smiled approvingly, and all of a sudden Harry laughed, a mixture of surprise and irony.
"Merlin, I actually sound like one of those unbearably bombastic blokes from the Department of International Magical Cooperation!"
He shook his head.
"Anyway… after a lot of negotiations it seems that they'd come to Shacklebolt and told him that the problems in Transylvania have been getting increasingly worse. They've always had trouble with vampires and werewolves in that area – though you shouldn't believe those silly, old Muggle fairy tales, Vlad Tepeš had nothing to do with it. The truth was much more dangerous. Rumors were spreading about a Werewolf order somewhere in the mountains… and that most importantly, the ancient rules didn't seem to count any longer."
"A werewolf will change with the full moon, and he shall reliably be killed with silver," Hermione cited softly. Her gaze sharpened when the next piece of the jigsaw suddenly fell into place. "You think that Greyback went there," she stated. "You think that he joined that mysterious order."
Harry nodded. "Kingsley strongly believes so, as does the Minister of Magic from Romania, Antonin Secerescu. They still haven't managed to find out what exactly those werewolves did to free themselves from the limitations of the curse, but whatever it was, they used their new powers with great caution; there were only a handful of victims... and none of them survived. Shacklebolt thinks that Greyback must have spent some time in Transylvania, and that he planned some kind of personal revenge, which was the reason that he returned to England alone... hopefully, at least. Remus once told me that his father offended him; it seems that Greyback very deliberately chose his victim, as a punishment."
"And now, after some mysterious changes Greyback underwent in that order..." Hermione slowly felt her way towards the next, frightening conclusion. "If he were to bite someone, it might well be that a possible victim..." Her eyes widened. "... that a possible victim might inherit..."
Suddenly her husband sat very upright. "But that wouldn't apply to Bill, would it?" he said, his voice sharp and loud in the silent room. "Greyback wasn't changed when he wounded him, and he hadn't been in Transylvania yet!" Harry saw that Hermione instinctively reached out; her hand closed around Ron's fist, and slowly his fingers relaxed again.
"Not to Bill," he said. "But it would certainly apply to Ruta... who was the last person he bit in his life. And if there were an article in the Daily Prophet... do you really think people would be reasonable enough to notice that Greyback's new power was something he didn't probably have in common with every single werewolf in England?"
"Merlin's heart, you're right!" Hermione whispered, shivering all over. "They would believe that every werewolf is able to change whenever he wants, to wound and to kill as he pleases. We would have the perfect witch hunt. And all the revisions we made of those viperish amendments Scrimgeour pushed through would be completely useless. Most prejudices towards werewolves refuse to die out anyway."
She wiped her brow.
"How secret is the whole thing?" she asked. "Here in St. Mary Green, I mean... and in Berwick?"
"Neville did a splendid job," Harry said. "The Muggles who witnessed the attack and the fight had their memories changed, even before Shacklebolt could send out anyone. The local Constable - Bernie Smithers - is being celebrated as the hero of the hour, for now everyone vividly remembers him shooting the beast that threatened the citizens if this village... as he does himself."
"And... Ruta?"
"Still unconscious... because Sn... because he drugged her thoroughly to keep her still. If she turns or thrashes about, the wounds might rip open again. She can only be Apparated when the bleeding has fully stopped. Dromeda called the local healer, Tiberius Tondrake, and Shacklebolt sent yet another one, very early this morning. But Snape insisted on being left out of the matter. We told Tondrake that it was Dromeda who did first aid and bandaged the wounds, and when the specialist from St. Mungo's arrived, it turned out that she was one of Tondrake's professors at the St. Mungo Healing Academy. Her former student nearly fainted with awe when he got complimented for his care... but he accepted the praise without objection." Harry gave a weak grin. "Both have promised to be silent about the whole matter."
Hermione shot him a curious glance. "Where did Prof... where did Snape hide while those two were busy admiring each other?"
"He Apparated home, to change his clothes," Harry retorted curtly, still feeling rather uncomfortable on the topic. "Neither of them ever saw him... I'm not quite sure how he convinced Dromeda to promise not to mention his presence to anyone. She has no idea who he is... as I said, he calls himself Stephen Seeker."
"Not too original," Ron muttered, grinning.
"It isn't, is it?" Harry said, and for a second his face mirrored the same, boyish mischief. "He didn't even bother to change the initials, did he?"
Hermione shook her head, slightly exasperated. "Oh, for Merlin's sake, grow up, you two. If no one who knows about this will talk about it, we should be relatively safe. And I'll be back at the Department next week; I can check the visitors log of the Werewolf Registry on a regular basis, at least as soon as Ruta is well enough to register there. And if I should happen to discover a certain bug in that office, Miss Skeeter will find herself buzzing about in a preservation glass before she even gets her Quickquotes Quill out."
Rons grin widened. "Bloody brilliant, love... she's afraid enough of you as it is." He hauled himself out of the chair. "I don't know about you both... but I'll try to find Dromeda and a cup of coffee. And perhaps some scrambled eggs..." He left the room and Harry saw that Hermione's gaze followed him with fond amusement.
"Some things never change, don't they?" He laughed under his breath, but Hermione's face had already turned serious again. She looked at him, with the scrutinizing, slightly unnerving stare that had always been so very much a part of her.
"What will you do about Snape?"
He hesitated. "I... honestly, I don't know yet," he finally said.
"I was just thinking..." she continued, cocking her head. "It's rather interesting, you know."
"What?"
"The things he did," Hermione said. "Yesterday... he didn't hesitate for a second to drop his cover. He ran to Ruta's rescue... he even flew through a Muggle village in plain sight - and all that to save a woman he has only known for a few months." Their eyes met, and a small smile curled her lips. "That's not the Severus Snape I know... he must have changed quite a bit. And they must be very good friends indeed."
Harry shrugged uncomfortably. "That's something I have great difficulty in believing," he said.
vvvvv
She floated through a darkness whirling with fire and horror, helplessly trying to reach out for something to cling to… and then the maelstrom eased, and she found herself in the body of a small girl…
…the sun was shining, she was wearing a brand new cloak and it was her very first visit to Diagon Alley. She was six years old, and her Uncle Reginald had finally agreed to take her with him to London. Remus would be there, too, and that was one of the main reasons why Ruta had ceaselessly assailed her mother until she finally gave her permission. She didn't know where to look first… too many wonders everywhere in the showcases, colorful robes, owls, cauldrons and brooms (and Remus, barely able to be dragged away from Quality Quidditch Supplies, constantly nagging at Uncle Reginald because now "all I want for Christmas is that Cleansweep Six, Dad, and I don't want anything else!").
Uncle Reginald decided to pay for a round of ice cream at Florean Fortescue's, and Ruta enjoyed her strawberry and walnut sundae, daydreaming about a doll she had seen displayed in a very true-to-life parlor at Theodora Tondrake's Tantalizing Toys – a marvel with long, golden curls and a noble robe, made of real silk. Remus had gallantly decided to forget that he was a boy and that dolls were the silliest thing on earth, and he read the plate at the doll's feet to her: "Gloriana – the most splendid magical companion you can give to your little princess – changes color of hair and dress on a daily basis – capable of real conversation – price on application."
"What does that mean – price on applicita… application?" she asked, still staring spellbound at the doll.
"That you need a lot of money," Remus precociously retorted. "More than your six sickles, little one."
Ruta – who only a second before had thought herself incredibly rich with two weeks of saved pocket money – felt her heart sink, and the dream of playing with that doll burst like a soap-bubble. No member of the Lupin family could rightly be called wealthy; Uncle Reginald was working in the Ministry of Magic (Ruta didn't know where exactly) and her own father, Rudolphus, sold herbal supplies for all kinds of potions and brews.Slug and Jiggers Apothecary was one of her father's biggest customers, and Corminius Slug one of his oldest friends. And though Rudolphus' profession certainly kept the family properly fed, a luxurious toy like Gloriana was far out of reach.
After finishing their ice cream, they headed for Flourish & Blotts; Ruta was not particularly interested in accompanying her uncle inside, and Remus promised to stay with her within earshot until his father had found the books he needed. They ambled along the shops, stopping here and there, until they reached a narrow, rather dimly lit side road.
"Knockturn Alley…" Remus slowly spelled the sign on the wall; he turned to Ruta, his eyes shining with excitement.
"Dad has mentioned this place," he said. "There is a shop where they sell all sorts of powerful, cursed things, and I've always wanted to have a look at it. Would you like to see it, too?"
Ruta hesitated. The crooked lane looked decidedly unpleasant, and she wasn't sure if she wanted to come close to any item that was powerful and cursed at the same time.
"Uncle told us not to go too far away from the book store," she said.
"We'll be right back, and I will look after you, little one," he earnestly said, taking her hand. "I promise."
That was what tipped the scales, of course. Remus was her hero, and she would have followed him to any place he suggested as long as he didn't leave her alone. And so she didn't object when he led her along the cobbled road towards the pale rectangle of another shop-window, twenty yards down Knockturn Alley.
It felt like walking into a long, dark tunnel; the merry chaos of merchants, restaurants and pedestrians seemed to draw back behind them until they were surrounded by a strange and silent half-light. The road was empty (though Ruta was sure that she saw something move in the shadows further down the alley), and when they reached the shop Remus was so eagerly heading for, it turned out to be a disappointment. There were only a handful of items displayed; a ring with a red gem on a cushion of dusty, black velvet, a small cauldron made of tarnished silver, and something that caused both children to gasp in unison (Ruta with fear, Remus with thrilled delight): a human skull, the empty eye sockets decorated with golden ornaments and two huge, green jewels.
"I want to go back, Remus," Ruta said emphatically, overcome by a sudden panic at the thought that her cousin might actually dare to enter that frightening place. "I don't like it here, I don't like this lane, I don't like this shop, I don't... And Uncle Reginald will be mad at us!" She pulled at Remus' sleeve; the boy's nose was literally pressed against the dull glass of the store window. "Remus? I want to go back! Please?"
He finally managed to break away, sobered by her pleading tone.
"Okay, then", he said, his gaze fixed on her anxious little face. "We are going back, right now."
The very next moment a tall figure stepped out of the shadows right beside the entrance to the store.
"Such a nice, little poppet," a low, raspy voice said. "No… actually a pair of poppets. A pair of poppets, lost in Knockturn Alley… such a terrible shame."
Ruta looked up and saw a face looming above her… eyes of a yellowish brown under thick brows, scrubby whiskers framing badly shaved cheeks, with a long nose and a broad, red-lipped mouth. The man's dirty blonde hair was as unkempt as his face, and he was surrounded by a stale smell that strongly reminded Ruta of the damp cellar in her grandmother's house… of invisible things, kept far too long and rotting in dark corners.
Involuntarily she shied back and her fingers found Remus' hand, closing around it in a hard grip that made him flinch, too.
"We're not lost," Remus said, his voice surprisingly firm and reassuring. "My father is waiting for us on Diagon Alley, just around the corner. We'll leave now… sir."
"Oh, but you shouldn't have to walk alone," the man said, his face split by a grin that made Ruta's heartbeat flutter in her throat. He had yellow teeth, and when he raised his hand, absently scratching his cheek, she noticed his fingernails… they were yellow, too, and frighteningly long, like claws. "I'll accompany you to… your father."
Ruta saw his eyes; all traces of brown had vanished, leaving feverish excitement and a bright blaze that almost made them glow in the dimness of the street. And suddenly she was dead sure that this man (this evil… thing) wouldn't accompany them back to Uncle Reginald. No, he would drag them away to some hiding place where no one would ever find them again… where no one would hear them screaming.
She closed her mouth against the helpless whimper threatening to escape, and then she heard a loud, alarmed voice from the direction of Diagon Alley.
"Remus? Ruta?"
"Dad, we're down here!" Remus' voice was shaking so violently that she barely recognized it. The man's head jerked up while fast steps approached, and he made a noise deep in his throat, like the snarl of a big, malicious dog. He took a hasty step back, and then Uncle Reginald was there, wand drawn, pointing directly at the man's chest.
"Greyback!" His voice was sharp and icy. "Away from my children! Back, I say, or I'll prove to you that the Ministry is perfectly willing to accept the Unforgivables as long as they are used against a monster!"
Remus pulled her after him until they both stood behind the safe cover of Uncle Reginald's voluminous cloak. Ruta closed her eyes; her knees were trembling and she couldn't see the man anymore… the man her uncle had called "Greyback". But she could hear his voice, oily and filled with a cattish servility:
"Your children? Such a sweet little girl, and such a handsome little boy! How proud you must be, Lupin… and how careful you should be!" A strange sound, something between a bark and a low chuckle. "There are monsters out there indeed… though I was found not guilty, if you remember."
"For want of evidence!" her uncle spat, his tone angry and heavy with disgust. "You may have skillfully covered your tracks, but I know that you were there, and that you caused the death of those poor twins. Had the Wizengamot and the Werewolf Capture Unit followed my judgment, you would have been rotting in Azkaban for months now."
"You like to see yourself as defender of the weak, do you?" Greyback growled, and Ruta felt her uncle's back grow rigid. "Against all unnatural creatures, especially every single werewolf, I presume? How incredibly brave!"
"I have nothing against those who are properly listed in the Werewolf Registry, trying to live a normal life as best as they can," Reginald Lupin retorted coldly. "It is your kind that I despise… those who take to the taste of living flesh, who feast on the pain and sorrow of others, and intoxicate yourselves with the smell of blood and the fear of children. I'll keep an eye on you, and one day I'll be able to prove to the Wizard World that you're nothing but some mangy cur, sick and dangerous enough to be drowned in the next best pond."
A sound of bestial rage came from the invisible man, and her uncle raised his wand once more.
"BACK!" he yelled, "Back, or you'll find yourself stunned and arrested for attacking an employee of the Ministry and two children." He laughed mirthlessly. "Give me a reason, hound."
"I will," Greyback snarled, "and the time may come when you curse the day you dared to threaten me, Reginald Lupin."
Fast steps moved away, and for the fraction of a second Ruta saw the shoulders of her uncle slacken before he whirled around and squarely faced his son, a thunderstorm in his eyes.
"Remus Lupin! What for heaven's sake have you been thinking?"
"I'm… I'm sorry, Dad," the boy murmured, hanging his head. Ruta saw that his lips were trembling, and she promptly burst into tears; she had always been a little afraid of her stern, proud uncle, but never before in her life she had been so glad that he was there. Reginald gave a deep, resigned sigh and pulled both children into a crushing embrace.
"Come," he said in a brusque tone which scarcely veiled his concern and relief. "I'll take you back to Diagon Alley. Time to go home." …
…she looked down at the small group of people hugging each other, and then she felt herself floating on the peak of a huge wave while darkness enfolded her once more. Gone was the little girl, lost forever the tall wizard and the brazen boy, and there was a surface, a surface of knowledge, of awareness…
… and of pain.
vvvvv
The entire right half of her body was throbbing with a dull ache. She tried to lift her hand from something soft and yielding, but that only made the ache manifold to screeching agony.
Her eyes flew open.
She stared at a ceiling, brightened by the unruly golden light of many candles. The room was vaguely familiar, warm and very silent. Why was she lying here… and what had happened to her shoulder and her arm? Her thoughts were as dull as the pain that had awakened her, and trying to concentrate was a difficult, confusing task.
The door opened, and she heard a voice she knew, speaking with impatient authority:
"She has had enough sleeping draughts for now. It is time she was allowed to learn what has happened. You cannot think that she would prefer to suddenly find herself at St. Mungo's with the well-being of the boy she tried to protect unbeknownst to her."
A short silence, and she could hear a hesitating murmur before the first voice continued, the tone softened and hoarse with weariness.
"Of course I will. And one more thing, Mr Potter, once again: You and your friends should concentrate your efforts on discovering how Greyback came to be here."
Greyback.
Ruta gasped and moved her hale hand, fumbling toward her shoulder for the source of the raging pain. The memory of that oily, cruel voice flooded her veins with ice water.
"The last time we met you were much younger, my little poppet, and I found you much more… tempting."
She bolted upright in the bed. Her head was spinning and her stomach was trying to escape through her cramped throat. She managed a strangled whimper, and the man at the door spun around with a swirl of dark robes and hurried over to the bed.
"For goodness sake - lie down, woman," he snapped, and his hands were far more gentle than his voice as he cautiously maneuvered her back into the pillows. "I had great difficulties in closing the most severe of your wounds, and any sudden movement might rip them open again."
She stared at him, shaking with stunned horror as another memory hit her like a blow. Her nephew, running and screaming, and then the small, helpless figure on the sidewalk, unable to escape with a twisted leg. "Is… is Teddy safe?"
"Yes," Seeker replied. "The boy was unharmed, aside from the shock and a bloody knee. He had a good night, and this morning Mrs. Tonks Apparated him to the Burrow. She thought he might need a certain change of scene. He was here for a moment, and very happy to see you alive."
"Oh…" It was a sigh of naked relief. "Thank you, Stephen."
Her gaze found a jug on the nightstand; suddenly she noticed how dry her mouth was. "Could I...?" He helped her to sit up, filled a glass and supported her hand when she held it against her lips. She swallowed, the cool water a blessing in her sore throat, and then yet another realization overran her like a giant avalanche. Her stomach tightened to a hard knot.
"He bit me," she flatly stated. "Greyback… he tried to get Teddy… and he bit me."
The black eyes in front of her flickered, and for a short, staggering moment they were completely empty. But he didn't turn his gaze away.
"Yes," he finally said, his voice even. "Yes, he bit you."
"And he was fully changed, wasn't he?"
"Yes, Ruta. He was fully changed."
She turned her head to the window and stared blindly at the closed curtains. His grim honesty was a blessing, but her thankfulness drowned in the memories reeling in her mind, flickering images from the past:
Remus as a boy, not even two months after that fateful encounter in Knockturn Alley, a shockingly small form in the big bed at St. Mungo's. The pale, desperate face of Uncle Reginald, his proud, tall figure hunched in a chair and with trembling shoulders, nothing more than a short glimpse before her aunt discovered her and quickly shooed her away.
Remus leaving for Hogwarts, a lonely child, shy and bereft of his former, gentle self-confidence.
She had stood beside uncle and aunt, waving goodbye to him, and getting a small wave back.
He came home from school for Christmas, happy and surrounded by his new friends, but still breaking into a joyful smile when he saw her waiting.
Then the fateful year 1981. The night after James' and Lily's death, with the entire wizarding world in a disbelieving uproar of joy, and Remus again, standing on her threshold, his face ashen. "I have lost them, Ruta, I have lost them, all of them..." The taste of wine on her tongue, a taste of earth and desire, Remus' sight blurred by a haze of too much alcohol, grief and desperate determination… and she… and she had…
And now her stomach gave up and revolted in earnest. One hand clamped over her mouth, she doubled over and the pain returned, awakening to full, howling force… but at that very moment she couldn't have cared less. He reacted with astonishing swiftness, leaning down and producing a bowl from the floor. One arm slid around her shoulder and one hand held the bowl under her chin while she retched, her body shaking from head to toe. Fate was mocking her, with an insane, shrieking laughter, echoing in her head. She had always thought that the price for her hopeless misdeed had been fully paid on the day when she had irrevocably lost Remus to death. But she had been wrong… horribly wrong.
It took minutes until it was over, and then she found herself hanging limply in his steadying grip, a deep ache in her chest as she gasped for air.
Only slowly did she become aware of a warm, damp cloth; his arm eased her down onto the pillows again and his hand gently smoothed the tousled strands out of her face.
She didn't know what to say, how to apologize. She had no idea how to give words to the turmoil of terror and bottomless fear whirling in her mind. She didn't even want tothink.
"Remember how I told you that Winky gave me the Draught of the Living Death?" he calmly said. "When the potion wore off I was still in that far-too-noble tomb. I lay waiting for Winky to come and find me, buried alive, but for some reason I was not afraid. It was strangely... peaceful."
Ruta swallowed, tears stinging behind her closed lids. She didn't dare to speak.
"The fear came after that… months later, when I had already left England and was traveling through Morocco. I slept in an ancient caravanserai near Rabat, and suddenly I found myself lying in that sarcophagus again… and this time the lid couldn't be removed, and I knew Winky wouldn't come… and I felt Nagini's venom running through my veins, slowly paralyzing every single limb."
She turned back to him and met his eyes. Now they weren't empty anymore… they were filled with saturnine experience and the memory of old pain… the better part of a man's life, spent in disguise and constant danger. Suddenly she realized that he had only told her about this mysterious part of his life one day before, and for the very first time.
"I woke up screaming, heartbeat in my throat, and I found Winky hastily casting a Muffliato Charm, to keep the Arabian Muggles from storming my chamber because they thought someone was being murdered in there."
She cleared her throat. "Why… why are you…?"
"You want to know why I would give you such a shocking insight into my personal feebleness?" Astonishingly enough there was no sarcasm in his voice… only a quiet dispassion. "It's very simple. I want you to know that fear and panic is only natural, given the circumstances… even if it comes late, as it did in my case. Courage always has a price, sooner or later." He sighed. "That dream in Rabat was only the first one in a long row of nightmares… but looking your personal horror right in the face is the only way to master it."
Despite the increasing pain in her wounds and the dull ache of her still queasy stomach she felt her mouth twitch. "Are you trying to prepare me for the fact that I should better keep a basin handy beside my bed for the next few years?"
"Your sense of the bare necessities of life is admirable," he answered with the shadow of a grin, but then he noticed her growing unease. He leaned over and she felt his hand around her wrist, checking the pulse. "Anyhow… I should spare you any further details, at least for this evening. What you need now is rest, and worry will not make your recovery easier."
Ruta carefully tried to readjust her position on the pillow and winced. "Merlin, that hurts terribly."
"Of course it does. Those are deep injuries, and we'll have to wait two or three more days until we can dare to Apparate you to St. Mungo's without risking even more blood loss. I'll remove this." He produced his wand from somewhere beneath the dark vest he was wearing and made the content of the bowl disappear. Then he rose from the chair and walked towards the door. "And I will bring you something that should help you sleep." He gave a half-smile. "I would also use my wand to ease the pain, but most spells don't work in this special case."
"I know." Suddenly Ruta felt the tears well up again, and she fought them with all her might. "This all just seems to become a kind of familiar … a family tradition. Funny, isn't it?"
"Not for me." Seeker looked at her, the expression of his face unreadable. "And not for you." He hesitated, then visibly came to a decision. "I know what you did yesterday evening, Ruta. To save the boy, you practically threw yourself to the wolves – or to the wolf, in this case."
She stared at him, her eyes widening in surprise. "You were there?"
"Yes, I was… and fortunately Mr. Potter was there, too, together with Mr. Longbottom. If anyone had told me ten years ago that I would one day fight against a beast alongside either one of those overzealous Gryffindors, I would have seriously recommended his immediate admittance into the Janus Thickey Ward at St. Mungo's."
"How did you…"
He raised one hand. "No, Ruta… not this evening. There are a few things you'd better hear about after a good night of rest and a proper breakfast. I'll be right back." His gaze softened. "Oh – Greyback is dead, of course. Destroyed utterly."
"That's… that's good," she whispered. "Thank you, Stephen."
He kept his promise and returned with a potion; Ruta remembered the lingering taste of it from her nightmares. She emptied the mug without objection, clinging to the sight of his face until she felt the world around her blur and fade into a peaceful, dark silence.
vvvvv
The next time she opened her eyes, the room was sunny and bright. Instinctively she turned her head to the chair beside the bed, and a man was sitting in it, obviously sound asleep. But it was not Stephen Seeker. It was Harry Potter.
She cleared her throat.
"Harry…?"
He winced and sat up, his gaze focusing on her with a visible effort.
"Oh... you're awake!" He wiped his brow. "I'm really sorry; I didn't mean to fall asleep here, but the last two days have been a bit exhausting."
She tried to penetrate the numb fog in her mind; the sudden daylight was nearly overwhelming, and she seemed to have lost track of the passing time."Two days?"
"Greyback's attack took place on Saturday," he explained. "That night your... your neighbor took care of you here, along with Dromeda and Tiberius Tondrake from Berwick, while I informed Kingsley Shacklebolt, and he sent another healer, a specialist, directly from St. Mungo's. Yesterday morning, Sunday, Ron and Hermione arrived."
Ruta blinked. "Ron and Hermione?"
He blushed. "They're both good at keeping secrets, and Neville's busy keeping an eye on the Muggles who've got Greyback's bones. We can't let Rita Skeeter get her hands on this - and not just because she'd cannibalize the truth until it is unrecognizeable." He hesitated. "We'll have to wait until tomorrow - or the day after tomorrow - to get you to St. Mungo's. Your neighbor kept you drugged the whole day yesterday because he was afraid that the wounds might start bleeding again."
She met his eye, suddenly on her guard. "Where is he now?"
"Went home before I took over this morning," Harry said. "He looked terribly tired – no wonder, after spending thirty hours or more beside your bed." A quick glance from the corner of his eye. "He only left this room when it was absolutely necessary. A very good friend, is he?"
"It seems so." Despite her first-hand experience with Stephen's quiet and gentle aid from the evening before she still felt a vague astonishment. "I know that he dressed the wounds."
"Dromeda is deeply impressed with his skills." A short pause. "But he told me that he won't accompany you to London; I hope you're not too disappointed."
"No, of course not," Ruta cautiously answered. "I wouldn't want him to leave his refuge longer than it's absolutely necessary, not even on my behalf. He has already done more than I could ever expect from him."
Harry nodded, and his gaze flitted to the thick bulge of bandages under her nightgown. "The healers at St. Mungo's are prepared to take over anyway, and you will be in good hands there. And Ruta -" Again he broke off. "You should know that you don't have to worry about the cost of your treatment. Everything is fully covered."
"Oh. Thank you." She hadn't even begun to think about this particular aspect of her personal disaster… and at that very moment she was immensely grateful that there would be no need to do so.
"As soon as you feel better, there are certain… erh… things you'll have to consider," he continued. "If your infection is confirmed…"
"I know what you want to say." Her heart felt heavy as a stone within her chest. "I will have to register as a werewolf. Don't worry… I'm familiar with the official procedure."
For a long while neither of them spoke. She could scent his disquiet and compassion like some kind of mist in the warm, still air of the room… with a sense far beyond the natural ability to see, to hear or to smell. It was a completely new, disturbingly feral knowledge... and suddenly she understood that from now on she would sense the changing phases of the moon the same way.
"I still have some questions," Harry finally said. "About Stephen Seeker."
Ruta looked at him; her heart sank. She should have known better from the start; it had been a fool's hope that the boy – the man – who had determinedly unveiled the Dark Lord's cabals would not doggedly try to find out the truth about the unusual friend she had been trying to protect against discovery.
"Could I get a sip of water? My mouth is terribly dry."
"Oh... of course." Harry reached for the full glass on the nightstand. Like Stephen had done the evening before, he helped her to sit up and carefully held the glass against her lips while she drank. She could feel the great tension in the arm supporting her, and feebly tried to steel herself against a bombardment of probing questions.
"How much do you know about him?"
She gave an exhausted sigh. "You've asked me that once before, remember? And I shall tell you now exactly what I told you then – he's a good and trustworthy man."
Harry eased her back into the pillows and got up again. He was pale - a result of the lack of sleep on his part - but the shadows those last few days had left under his eyes had nothing to do with the nervous turmoil she could clearly sense beneath the surface of that young, familiar face.
"I know," he finally said. "I can't deny that he was definitely helpful... during that fight against Greyback and all the time afterwards. And I can tell that he really seems to care for you." A long pause; then he turned back to her and they looked at each other. Lily's eyes, Ruta thought, he really has inherited Lily's eyes. She had met his mother only on a few occasions, after her marriage to Remus' friend James, but those encounters were deeply engraved into her memory. The beautiful young woman had always managed to thaw Ruta's frozen shield of shyness and caution... in her presence she had felt cherished and wondrously released from her usual solitude. Now she saw the same friendliness and compassion mirrored in the eyes of Lily's son.
"How much do you really know about him?" Harry suddenly asked. "Have you... have you any idea who he really is?"
To her surprise Ruta felt cool and calm… and strangely relieved. Time for the truth, then…which was a blessing after all.
"He is a hero," she softly replied. "At least that is what you publicly proclaimed in the Daily Prophet, eight years ago."
Harry stared at her, his eyes very dark. Then he sat down in the chair again.
"You knew." It was no question. "How long…"
"Since the day when Teddy stole the medal from his house." Ruta gently replied. "It was his Order of the Merlin. He had put a deceiving hex on it, but I was able to remove it with a Finite Incantatem."
His gaze was thoughtful. "So you didn't trust him?"
"Oh, I did," she gave back. "I trusted him before I knew about his true identity, and that hasn't changed an iota. But I must admit that I was painfully curious… and I'm still ashamed of it, to tell the truth."
"Why?"
Of course he would ask that. Harry had never been able to leave a mystery alone for long.
"Because I had no right to dig up his secrets," she said. "He was always very guarded, and it took some time until I had the impression that he actually enjoyed our encounters."
"Encounters?"
"Conversations over the garden wall, in the beginning. A cup of coffee or two, a week of chess lessons… a shared meal. You know, he was incredibly cautious at first. "She smiled weakly. "Somehow I must have managed to get through his defenses, in a way. But it was worth the effort - I have been rewarded with a rare friendship."
Without thinking, she reached out for his hand, and he didn't pull it away. She didn't know if this was a good sign; she could only hope the best, for the sake of both men.
"Look, Harry," she said, "I know your experiences with this man were a nightmare. I know he hated you for years, and that you returned his antipathy with enthusiasm. But… he has abandoned his former identity. Most of the last eight years he has spent abroad, trying to find a purpose for the second life he was given unexpectedly."
"Why didn't he stay away?" The expression in his eyes was an odd mixture of unease and reluctant curiosity... and in this moment she could easily discern the face of a much younger, angry boy behind the features of the grown-up man.
"Because of you," Ruta answered. "He wanted to see if you were safe. He… he wanted to be sure that you have the life you deserve."
"He didn't need to come here to find out about me!" he slowly said. "The newspapers announced my appointment as an Auror at the ministry, my marriage and the birth of my first son. And wherever he was, Winky could certainly have provided him with the Daily Prophet."
"Harry, please." She felt a stab of hot impatience. "The day I went to him to bring back the order, he told me that you put him to shame by – how did he put it – by 'transforming him into a pillar saint'. He knows only too well how terribly he mistreated you." She swallowed. "I told him he was wrong. I told him that the retrieval of his honor was an act of honesty… because of your unerring sense for justice."
She let go of his hand.
"Don't prove me wrong," she said, her tone weary. "Talk to him, try to sort this out with him. Perhaps you'll never be friends… but he at least deserves a fair hearing. And now…"
She settled deeper into the pillows, grimacing as a fresh surge of pain ran down from her thickly bandaged right shoulder to the wrist.
"… now I'd like you to leave. I am sure you have had a difficult time, and I'm incredibly thankful for everything you have done - all of you - but I was bitten by a werewolf, I have no idea if my arm will ever really heal again, and the thought that I'll spend every full moon for the rest of my life as a beast of prey makes me sick. I would really like to be alone for a while."
"I'm sorry," he murmured. "If you need anything…"
"If I need anything, I'll call Andromeda," she replied. "Go home – you need some rest, too. And give Ginny my love, will you?"
He nodded and left the room, silently closing the door.
She stared up at the ceiling. She thought of Stephen who hopefully was making up for the lost sleep. She thought of Andromeda and the terrible shock the whole situation must have been for her. She saw Greyback's grinning face in front of her inner eye; she imagined herself walking into the office of the Werewolf Registry, and the inquiring gaze of the magistrate when she mentioned her name. "Yet another Lupin…?"
The house was very silent, and the room with its warm, feminine colors seemed to clasp around her like a shielding hand. For the first time she felt herself relax, and only now, completely alone and unobserved, did she finally dare to give in to the fragile comfort of tears.
"Hermione had attained a high position in the Ministry of Magic through the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. She then went on to attain a high position in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement."
(Source: Harry Potter Wiki: Later years of Hermione Granger)
Janus-Thickey-Ward - located on the 4th floor of the hospital St. Mungo's, a department for mentally ill patients. Famous inhabitants are Alice and Frank Longbottom and Gilderoy Lockhart.