See Ch. 1 for disclaimer.

Thanks to all who have reviewed:) Hope you enjoy this chapter.

Chapter 21

The glow of the sunset fell upon the House tables in the Great Hall, breaking against the walls and brightening the faded stones with a golden sheen, before the sky slowly crimsoned, and then the sunlight went from its overlying colours, of gold—to red—to grey—before shades of blue and black fused together to create the setting for the coming dusk.

Candles now hovered, suspended in the air, casting their warm glow on the students and teachers at dinner. If Harry had remained outside longer than he had, he would have felt the biting cold of the chilly wind, signalling the coming of the winter snows. If allowed inside, the November gusts would have no doubt blown out the lighted candles. As it was, Harry was reaching for a roll when he turned towards his friends as they came to the Gryffindor table, their words nearly lost amid the chatter that permeated the Great Hall.

"—I'm surprised," Hermione said. There was, indeed, a tinge of surprise in her voice.

"What's so surprising?" Harry cut in quizzically.

Ron's face was stubbornly set. Hermione said, "Ron just signed up for Slughorn's extra credit potions project." Harry's eyebrows shot up. "Why'd you go and do that?" he asked. "I thought you said you didn't like Slughorn."

"I can't help it if I don't!" Ron burst out. Harry noticed that his ears had gone a nice shade of red. "Er—Mum says I've got to get good marks this year, and, well—it's extra credit. It's not like it'll take too much time."

Harry saw Hermione shooting Ron an exasperated look. "Ron," she began, "why do you think it's called extra credit? It's supposed to be hard.."

The black-haired boy intervened at this point, having foreseen a brewing argument once again. "Who's signed up for the project?" he asked casually.

Her attention diverted by this interruption, Hermione said, "Oh, let me see—well, Ron here, me, Ernie Macmillan, Su Li, and Malfoy. Not really that many. But let's not bother with that—do you know what Slughorn's letting me do?"

"What?" asked Harry, in a tone which seemed to say, "Frankly, this bores me, but I'll pretend to be interested for your sake."

"Rememorari!" Hermione said happily.

The word plainly did not make any impression on the two boys whatsoever. "Rememorari?" Ron repeated. "What kind of a name is that?"

Sitting across from them, Ginny said, raising an eyebrow, "Pot calling the kettle black, Ron. Really, Bilius? What kind of a name is that, Ron?"

"Shut it, Ginevra."

"At least hers sounds pretty," Hermione said pointedly. "But then I suppose you wouldn't know bile was originally considered in medieval times one of the four basic humours of the body which caused anger—though it seems you certainly have enough of it."

"All right, all right!" Ron raised his hands in a gesture of surrender. "You win! So what is this Remem—Rememorari stuff anyway?"

"It's a sort of memory potion—"

"So it improves your memory?" Harry asked.

"No, it's a potion that enables you to remember things that have happened that might be sort of blurry in your mind. Like, for instance, your two-year-old birthday party. Some imprint of that event will be left in your mind, even if you can't form it into a clear memory, and Rememorari takes that imprint and rebuilds the memory. And it can break through memory charms, too." Hermione's face glowed with barely concealed excitement. "And Professor Slughorn's letting me do it!"

If Hermione had had the personality of Parvati Patil or Lavender Brown, Harry supposed she probably would have squealed. As it was, she was eating her dinner so fast that it was almost certain in his mind that she was going to go to the library.

And within a few minutes, Hermione did exactly what Harry had expected her to do: announce that she was going to the Hogwarts library.

"Big surprise there," mumbled Ron as Hermione raced off. "Barmy in the head. And," he added, his voice suddenly defensive, "why couldn't I do the project as well? I mean, it's not like we're terrible at potions."

Ginny coughed meaningfully.

oOo

He stands within the raging maelstrom, and marvels at the destruction it brings. A terrible storm, and a wolf, gleaming the colour of jet, hackles raised and the animal snarling, revealing its sharp teeth.

The glass glitters under his feet, a fragile crossing, and then it shatters, and then he falls. Down, down, down…

"Nice to see you again." A crooked smile, danger and anger grinning out of a boy's face that shouldn't know of such things—not when he seems so impossibly young. "But don't bother with this. You won't succeed, in the end." Danger and anger grinning out of a boy's face. Danger, and anger, and despair.

And the white turns to black.

oOo

"I don't see what can be done," said Remus. He sat awkwardly on his bed. "How many full moons has it been? It's November now, but we don't even know what's happening, how we can do anything." His body ached, and he suppressed the impulse to rub at a long, shallow slash in his left shoulder. Bandaged, of course, but still itchy.

"Doesn't Professor Snape ever say anything?" asked the man sitting opposite him. Hai Yan-shui looked as comfortable as ever, oddly calm and nonchalant.

"Severus?" Remus said in surprise. "Oh, no, he doesn't say much at all. He's the paragon of secrecy, don't you know that? He knows things that no-one else does, really."

"Hmm," said Yan-shui. "Well…" he sighed. "How did Fenrir Greyback get you in the first place?"

The brown-haired man was silent for a moment, remembering. Six year old Remus, holding his teddy bear. Six year old Remus, tucked into bed by his mum. Six year old Remus, dragged away by a slavering wolf with bloodlust in its eyes. "My father had offended Greyback in some way," he said slowly. "He was an independent researcher, associated with the Gautier Institute in Paris. He was working on a research project dealing with werewolves, and Greyback heard about it. The research wasn't even anything with adverse effects upon werewolves—but Greyback… he probably didn't like people 'interfering' with him…" Phelan Lupin rocking bloody Remus in his arms, saying, "Oh Merlin, that bastard, why did he have to target you…" And his mother, Brenna, who wiped away the dirt and blood and tears from her little boy's ravaged face with a wet cloth and kissed his forehead and said, "I love you."

Remus blinked. "Well, Greyback has attacked for less. And you?"

"Just me being utterly foolish and outside at the wrong time," Yan-shui said lightly, but his face belied his flippant tone. "I tell you, I'll be very glad to meet good old Fenrir Greyback a second time. After all, we both have unfinished business with him, don't we?"

Remus nodded. "Yes," he said after a momentary pause. "I suppose we do. I'll probably meet him sooner or later—you must have heard that he's allied with Voldemort, in Britain."

Yan-shui nodded. "I have. Speaking of which, how is the situation in Britain? I haven't heard much since that tragic Halloween attack. On the parents of one of your Ministry's senior Aurors, no less." His face was solemn, sharp with a hint of anger. "And I've heard since about the—details." Eyes dark with fury. "Utter sacrilege."

Remus said, slowly: "I'll be honest with you—I'm really not quite sure. Of course there was that brief period during the summer when that spate of attacks occurred, but then it has mostly died down. There have been some deaths here and there—utterly vicious, you know, and all on civilians, like the Wyatt murders—but otherwise…" He pressed his hand against his face; he could still remember spells, flying in the air. Expelliarmus! Dodge behind the columns. Stupefy! Jump to the side. Flipendo! Duck down. Crussier! Dive to the ground. And the cry of the Death Eaters: Crucio! Green light. Avada Kedavra! "There have been no major attacks since the one on the Ministry, and that was months ago. But—I don't like it. It's strange that Voldemort should be so quiet, especially now that he's been acknowledged to have returned. It doesn't seem like something he would do."

"Unless," said Yan-shui, "he has something in the works."

"That's true," was the reply. "He certainly has the mind for it, although I wish he hadn't. He's ruined the British wizarding world."

"Well," Yan-shui said. "Pardon me for saying this, but it seems rather as though our wizarding world was already a little ruined in the first place."

"What do you mean?" But even as Remus asked the question, he could already guess at what Yan-shui would say—those words that he himself had always carried in his heart.

"The prejudice, for one," Yan-shui said. "The hatred for werewolves. The condescension towards Muggles, and Muggle-borns. The sense of superiority over other magical creatures. Those termed half-breeds?—yes, those are considered inferior by the majority of the population. Attitudes are incredibly hard to change, you see."

"That's not too hard to believe," Remus answered bitterly. "Stereotypes are so ingrained into people. I probably have stereotypes of my own," he said wryly. "I know that some Death Eaters must be intelligent and perhaps even have a little bit of emotion, but it's easier to think of them as mindless, vicious killing machines. That way, it's easier to fight against them."

Yan-shui said, "I suppose it is." His face was tired with the look of one who has seen much of human nature, and who is weary because of it. "Hatred is easy; forgiveness is not so effortless."

Remus thought of Peter, shaking with fear when he and Sirius had pointed their wands at him, and how his heart had been filled with a solid hatred that seemed to strangle his very ability to speak. He could not have forgiven Peter.

And yet Harry had decided to spare his life.

What is Peter doing now? he thought. Is he planning to kill the rest of us? Perhaps he was being too harsh. But then again, he knew that Peter now had a hand of silver.

oOo

At the same time that Remus Lupin and Hai Yan-shui were talking, Wang Qin, Ming-yue, and Severus sat around a small round table. Severus thought, idly, that it seemed to be a council of war. His cup of tea was cooling; he had not yet drunk from it.

Drink it now, said Hogwarts. You haven't had much to eat today.

Don't nag, you, thought Severus.

Hogwarts only laughed.

"Based on the premise that a lycanthrope contains two souls within one body," Wang Qin said, "we could perhaps try…. Well," and here she looked almost a little embarrassed, "exorcism."

"Exorcism?" Severus stared. " 'To drive out evil spirits'?"

Ming-yue answered, "Well, it was originally used in order to get rid of what the ancients considered evil spirits that had possessed a person. If you think of it in those terms…"

"Then the lycanthropy would be the 'evil spirit,' and a simple exorcism is all," Severus said, raising an eyebrow. "As simple as that?"

"I would not say it was simple," Wang Qin replied. "There will probably be quite a few complications, but it is not as though we have any other choices."

There was a short silence. Severus finally said, "We might as well try it."

"So that is agreed?" Wang Qin looked around the table. "Good. Now, about the process…"

oOo

Bellatrix Lestrange glared at Fenrir Greyback as he loped into the forest, no longer in his werewolf form but repulsive all the same. It was a pity, really, that she had to consort with things like him, but they supported the Dark Lord, so they could be tolerated for now. Werewolves, in any case, were good attackers, if nothing else.

And attackers, if nothing else, could be very useful to the Dark Lord.

Don't get angry, Bella, we'll get rid of the werewolves in the end, said Rodolphus at her side, and then she turned her head and Rodolphus was not there. Her mouth thinned. The spectres whispered in her ears and hovered at the edges of her consciousness when she had nothing to do. They did not bother her during attacks—and how Evan Rosier would have loved to see the Wyatts, she thought almost regretfully—but they were there when she was not busy. She could forget they ever existed, and then they would bombard her with words, suddenly…

I would like a stake of silver, said Evan Rosier dreamily. Can't you just imagine the look on his face?

Bella could.

She heard the quiet step of someone coming up behind her and whirled, wand out. "Who is it?" she snapped, her voice harsh.

"Madame Lestrange," said a respectful voice, laced with the slightest French accent. She lowered her wand. The wizard stepped out so Bella could see him more clearly. His hair was the colour of gold, and his grey eyes stared at her with no expression. It was as though two blank ovals of grey had been set into his face, never to reflect light.

He looked rather like Evan Rosier. But then he would—Evan Rosier had been of the Anglicised branch of his family, but the main family had always had its roots in France. The Roziers lived in Nice, generally paying no attention to those who in their eyes did not merit it. Their distant relatives, the Dufays in Paris, were more liberal-minded—blood purity was not such a big issue with them, which Bella could not understand—but neither the French Roziers nor the Dufays had interfered with the Dark Lord. Now, one of them had indeed joined the Death Eaters. Bella was not sure why—but then she did not question her Lord—and so Francis de Rozier had become a Death Eater. Bella had been pleasantly surprised to find that he was a good one. He did not question orders, respected her authority, had brains, and didn't mind getting rid of the impure.

At least another Death Eater around here besides her had his mind in the right place.

"Rozier," she said.

"Madame Lestrange," he said again. "Coleus Yaxley asked me to bring this to you, to take to the Dark Lord." He held out some papers to her. She took them with a raised eyebrow. Yaxley, silent Yaxley—although he would suddenly say a lot at times… good, Maurice Boynton had been disposed of. And his information was the last thing they needed for their plans. The sheaf of papers was the information the frightened Boynton had undoubtedly stuttered out before he died, and what they had found in his house. She wondered if the Ministry had realised what they were planning to do, and then dismissed the thought. The Ministry idiots never knew anything.

She smiled. Rozier said nothing. "Good," she said. "This will be enjoyable." Her face showed her satisfaction.

Rozier bowed his head slightly, and stood aside as Bella swept away. In her mind, Rodolphus and the others laughed in anticipation of what was to come.

oOo

"Crussier" is Anglo-Norman, referring to "crush"; this mild Crushing Curse can sometimes cause concussions.

"At least another Death Eater around here besides her had his mind in the right place." Some irony, considering you cannot really say Bella has ever had her mind in the right, sane place.

(coughs) You can still vote for this story at the Sorting Hat awards until October 2. Link's in my profile.

Now, I'm not sure when the next update will be. I'll try to get it out by Oct. 31 (Halloween!), along with the second part of Falls the Shadow, although I can't guarantee the update of the latter, as WT is still my main story. Please review! Feedback makes authors happy. :)

Talriga