A/N: I must thank my wonderful beta-readers for this chapter, Christina Teresa and Seakays, who, in spite of being virtually swamped with Real Life issues, took time out of their very busy schedules to beta-read. And to my readers, thank you for your patience with this author, who spent a fair time battling Real Life lately herself. With any luck, it should be shorter between chapter postings next time! Thank you for your continued reading and reviewing support! -NZ
Chapter 8
Null and Voyde
Before checking her whereabouts, she briefly glanced up at the tall wizard beside her and stared a moment in surprise. Everything about Thaddeus Sharpe was as perfect as if he'd never left his Ministry office: his robes, his hair, his composure. Now that wasn't fair.
Once her head stopped spinning, she leaned forward and then flipped her hair behind her to bring it together, twisting it into one fat roll down her back so that she didn't look a complete idiot in case they were off to meet some of her new associates.
Mr. Sharpe sighed happily. Apparition is fine, but Portkey travel always makes me a bit giddy--rather exciting to feel as if you've really covered some ground, yet it's all over in just an instant. Don't you agree? The tall wizard reached inside his robes to pocket the shiny silver Muggle cigarette lighter they'd used as a Portkey.
Hermione was just discovering that, while in transit, her originally centered shirt-buttons had changed position and were now neatly placed down the right side of her ribcage. She was in the midst of trying to adjust her shirt inconspicuously when she realized that the man had asked a question. Oh, erm...yes, agreed.
Next to her, Thaddeus Sharpe was turning about, looking in all directions around the compound.
Finally feeling somewhat pulled back together, Hermione took the opportunity to soak in her surroundings. The two of them were standing in an open quadrangle in the center of a compound surrounded by doubled heavy wire fencing some eight meters high; the fences, with some ten feet of empty space between the inner and outer rings, must have served some (rather sinister-feeling, Hermione thought) purpose years ago. Within the compound to the west stood a large building that was completely unremarkable with its dual-level shoebox shape and gunmetal-gray stucco. To the south of them was a set of enormous gates, flanked by several small wooden bungalows on each side and two larger buildings to the southwest looked as if they might be multi-room housing of some sort.
To the northeast there were three more of the small wooden cabins. Her eye was then drawn due north, to what looked to be the most inviting building of all, if any of them could be described as such. A few low flowering bushes had been planted outside and there was a bit of shape to its exterior--a number of windows indicated that it must at least be bright and cheerful inside.
One thing that Hermione thought to be odd, though, was the existence of a number of very tall light posts sporting very large metal shades; some seemed aimed toward lighting the interior of the compound, some were aimed toward lighting the fences. She supposed that at one time the lights had been electrical in nature, but squinting up at them told her that they had been converted to reflective shades for torches, much like lighthouses of old that she'd read about in Muggle public school.
That is just like him, I'm afraid, Mr. Sharpe said, interrupting her visual inspection. I told Dr. Null we'd be arriving at three o'clock, but the man often runs a bit... behind.
Just then, they heard a heavy door slam at the far end of the gray building. Mr. Sharpe and Hermione turned to see a rather short, sturdily-built man jogging his way toward them across the quad, his white lab robes flapping behind him in the wind. He slowed as he approached them.
Even without studying him carefully, Hermione knew this had to be Dr. Christopher Null. In an article she'd read in The Empirical Inquisitor, one reporter had mentioned that it was a good thing eccentricity wasn't factored into account when scientists were being considered for the Crystobel Prize. Otherwise, according to the reporter, the zoolowizard in front of them would have certainly been out of the running early on.
On first glance, Christopher Null was a rather pleasant-looking man, probably in his mid-thirties. At least half a head shorter than Thaddeus Sharpe, he had a shock of dark brown hair that hung thickly over his brow. His deep-set brown eyes were intensely focused on her and Mr. Sharpe for the moment, but Hermione could tell that unless the two of them continued to be of interest, Dr. Null's eyes and thoughts would quickly be focused elsewhere.
Yet there were these other...factors...his lab robes for one. Not only were the robes dreadfully wrinkled, but they sat atop his shoulders at an odd angle now, having been blown about in the wind as he ran. He didn't seem to notice, however; nor had he apparently noticed a very large and ugly stain trailing from his elbow to the cuff of one sleeve--Hermione found herself hoping it was only tea. His shirt under the open robe was fastened one button off, causing the side of his collar to stick up under his chin, and there were ink stains at the bottom edge of his chest pocket.
As Dr. Null finally stopped in front of them, a bit out of breath from his jog across the quad, Hermione found her (hopefully) subtle assessment of his appearance had ended with a glance at his dusty shoes. But she was hard-pressed not to do an obvious double-take when she saw something pointed protruding out from under the cuff of his brown herringbone pants, wedged against the top of one black trainer. Though she knew it would be quite awkward to be caught staring, the object kept drawing her eyes back to it.
Sharpe said, smiling his perfect smile and extending a hand in greeting to the zoolowizard. Good to see you, old man. How's our pet project going?Hello, Thaddeus. Dr. Null reached out and politely returned the handshake, but didn't seem to be as enthusiastic about their meeting as Sharpe was. The project's going fine--as well as can be expected. I think you'll be pleased with our start-up measures, but the results may take some time. It'll all be in the report I'm compiling. Sharpe said. Speaking of compiling research, I've finally brought along that research assistant you requested. She's a sharp one, Chris--she'll be an invaluable resource to you, I'm sure. Miss Granger?
Sharpe stepped aside so that she and Dr. Null were facing one another directly. Hermione Granger--Dr. Christopher Null. Dr. Null, your assistant.
Hermione smiled primly and held out her hand. Pleased to meet you, Dr. Null. I've always been so impressed by your work and your protection of creatures' rights. It's an honor to get the chance to work with you. Excellent - it sounded just as professional as it had when she practiced it alone all those times before.
Dr. Null seemed genuinely pleased. Thank you, Miss Granger. Welcome to Trapperton. I've been told only a little about you, but all of it has been good. I suppose we'll find out just how well your skills hold up under some tedious report-writing and some grueling teamwork, eh? We're indeed very pleased to have you.
Hermione felt her cheeks warming. Thank you.Well, then, shall we continue with the details over early tea in the commons? Sharpe asked. Or would you two rather continue chattering out here in the dust like your test subjects do, just for practice?
Dr. Null looked around briefly, as if noticing for the first time that they really were taking the full brunt of the summer sunshine. Oh...well, by all means then, tea it is. After you, Miss Granger.
Hermione wasn't sure what to do. She started to take a few steps past the two men toward the building with the plants outside, but then she wheeled around. Erm, Dr. Null--sir?
Lost in thought already, it took him a moment to register that she'd spoken. But the pause in the conversation interrupted his distracted expression and he raised his eyebrows at her in response.
May I, sir--? she started. Hermione then knelt down to grab the tip of whatever was lodged against the top of Null's shoe. She carefully pulled the length of it free from his pants cuff to reveal a long, sturdy Ministry-issue quill, then stood straight and held it out to Null. The man looked delighted.
Oh, well done! he said, smiling. I knew I'd put that in my pocket, then I lost it straight away! Only shows I'm not completely daft--it was there all along. Null beamed at Hermione. I believe Thaddeus is right, Miss Granger. It seems you're going to be very helpful.
Hermione nodded and gave a wan little smile, then stepped off toward the northernmost building. The two men, talking in a business-like manner, moved to walk at her side. She tried to listen and gain any information she could, but a nagging thought kept tugging at her. She couldn't help but wonder if everything had gone well with her parents. After all, they should have been back in their car headed for home by now. If only there was some way to find out if they were safe and feeling all right... all she could do was owl them tonight.
Approaching the door, Hermione pushed it open to walk inside. It was difficult to believe that this place was a part of all the stark, clinical buildings she'd seen already. Here there was a large open room with eight or ten round tables sporting freshly cut flowers on top of bright, crisply-ironed tablecloths. The open windows allowed a soft breeze to blow the cheery curtains and she breathed in something delicious and
savory cooking alongside the welcoming smell of baking scones.
At one of the tables in the farthest corner sat two very large men, eating and laughing robustly with their backs turned toward the door. Glancing over their shoulders once when they heard Hermione, Null, and Sharpe enter, the laughing ceased and the two men then appeared to intensify their efforts to finish their food in silence.
Dr. Null called toward the back of the room, where Hermione could see a high window opening into another area beyond, presumably the source of the wonderful aromas. We have guests!
The eating men glanced over their shoulders again, but said nothing.
Hermione walked to a bright table by the window and Mr. Sharpe pulled out a chair for her.
But I suppose we can't call you a guest any longer, now can we? Dr. Null said, seating himself after Hermione, as did Thaddeus Sharpe. This is where we have all of our meals and I can assure you the food is superb, thanks to-- well, here she is now. That was prompt, Tulip. This is Hermione Granger - she'll be staying with us for a month or so. Please say hello.
Hermione glanced across the table into the huge, glistening blue eyes of a house-elf. She could tell the elf had been staring at her, but Tulip's gaze dropped humbly to the floor the instant Hermione made eye contact. It was obvious from looking at the creature just who had created the warm and comfortable ambience of the commons.
Tulip is being very happy to meet you, miss, the little elf said, curtseying deeply. She held out at the sides her orange and yellow dress' made from a curtain as she dipped, causing her to blend in easily with the matching curtains on the far wall behind her. Anything you be wanting, Tulip will help find.
Hermione smiled warmly at her. Thank you, Tulip. I'm sure I'll be calling on you. Momentarily, she wondered if it would be inappropriate to hold out a hand for Tulip to shake or if it would simply cause a scene. She was, after all, in the research compound of allegedly one of the great creatures' advocates in the world; she had half a mind to test his mettle. But she'd only met him less than an hour ago--it would likely be bad form to start in on proving her own points quite this soon.
Bring a pot of tea and some of those delicious scones, Tulip, Dr. Null said. He'd been jotting off a note on a wrinkled piece of paper that must have been in his pocket. Folding it into an airplane shape, he pushed the note into the air and swung the wand from his pocket at it once; its crumpled nose didn't make for very efficiently flying, but t
Tulip held her hand to her mouth, her long fingers curling in front of her lips. Tulip is being pleased to bring them now, doctor sir. She backed away, then turned and hurried off across the room, glancing repeatedly (and somewhat worriedly, Hermione thought) at the two men who were just standing up from their table.
Otto! Ulav! Dr. Null called. Come meet our new research assistant before you go.
The two men exchanged a look for a moment, then pushed in their chairs and approached the table where Hermione, Dr. Null, and Thaddeus Sharpe sat. Hermione noticed at once their enormous size; they were certainly not in Hagrid's category, but very much on the large side for anyone completely human. Their thick necks, shoulders, and arms strained at their clothing and they reached up to place caps on their heads that they then pulled down low over their faces. It was difficult to tell for this reason, but Hermione thought that their facial features looked very much alike--and for some reason, she remembered they looked oddly like those neighbors down the street from home.
Dr. Null glared at the two men momentarily, which seemed to make them remember their manners and remove their caps to meet Hermione. As the men held the caps in front of their chests with both hands, Hermione noted that she'd been right--the two were either fraternal twins or brothers very close in age.
Gentlemen, this is Miss Granger, Dr. Null said. She'll be working under my tutelage for the next month or so. Please afford her every respect that you would myself and Voyde. Miss Granger, this is Otto, and this is Ulav. They are part of the team in charge of maintaining the habitat and taking care of the physical needs of the Yeti. They also help us with bringing in the Yeti for testing and observation when necessary. the two men grunted almost in unison and nodded their heads.
Pleased to meet you, Hermione responded, noting that the men wouldn't look her in the eye.
There was then en empty silence that Dr. Null didn't seem to notice and the two men shifted on their feet, seemingly waiting to be dismissed. Thaddeus Sharpe looked between the men and Null, finally taking it upon himself to say something.
Thank you, gentlemen. I'm sure Dr. Null doesn't want to keep you any longer from your duties, or did you need something else, doctor? Null responded blankly. Oh, no...no. Carry on, please. The men left.
Null and Sharpe then launched into a discussion of the necessary paperwork that was due for the start of the new fiscal year.
Hermione began listening, but was soon distracted by looking out of the window and familiarizing herself with the place she would be staying for the next month. She hadn't really had the time to consider what it would be like working here, basically on her own with strangers. At least while alone in Bermuda, she knew it was only a matter of time before her parents would return in the evening and they could do things together. At Hogwarts or with the Weasleys, it seemed like Ron or Harry were always there with her in a completely new situation like this, but not now. This awareness made her feel rather like she did during her first days at Hogwarts when she knew no one in her new magical world, and the remembrance of it made her start to feel just a bit melancholy...
Suddenly a familiar name snapped Hermione's attention back to the conversation next to her.
--so Narcissa Malfoy thought it would be best if we could manage to collect donations at the Autumn Aura Ball, Sharpe was saying. That way the funding would stand no chance of running low for our endangered magical species, and that's always when all of the naysayers tend to jump on to finally sink the project...That's really more up your alley, Thaddeus, Dr. Null said dully. Use your own best judgment on all of that fund-raising folderol. Mrs. Malfoy has been a regular contributor--I'm sure you're aware that she's even visited us a few times here. Pamela always disagrees about doing it, but we try to make quite a fuss over her when she comes to Trapperton--she seems to expect it.
Mrs. Malfoy's been here? Hermione thought. Hopefully she won't be again while I am...And...Pamela who?
Sharpe looked up from Dr. Null for a moment as if something had suddenly struck him. You know, Miss Granger, if you're going to become a real part of this line of work, you might as well see what it takes to drum up financial support. He touched a finger to his chin, thinking. Don't the Malfoys have a son who attends Hogwarts?Yes-- they do, Hermione answered reluctantly. Draco--he's in my year.Ah, yes--that's right-- Draco, Sharpe said. It's always important to keep all of these names and ages straight--never know when someone will be so pleased that you've remembered that they dip right into their galleon bags... But Narcissa Malfoy has
always been so generous of her own doing -- haven't you found that to be true?Oh...well...I've never actually met her...formally, Hermione said dismissively, hoping they could just gloss over the subject. The only time she remembered seeing Mrs. Malfoy was during the World Cup Quidditch match before fourth year. I'm sorry to say I'm not at all familiar with her spending habits, though her son seems to act as if money is no object with their family. Get off this subject if you can, Hermione, before you say something you don't want to...
Thankfully, Tulip returned just then with the refreshments, giving Hermione a quick way out. Hermione poured tea and buttered scones, putting in an effort to look much busier with it than she really was.
Word is that there'll be another dignitary visit here in a week or two, though we have nothing confirmed as of yet, Sharpe said to Hermione. Someone very well-connected, I hear--possibly even Phelix Nardstone himself. But due to, er, circumstances, the Ministry rarely makes announcements regarding the whereabouts of our higher-ups these days, even to us--at least, until the last moment. Hermione said weakly now that she'd found that said dignitaries could include the likes of Narcissa Malfoy.
Some advice, Miss Granger, Sharpe said, appearing not to notice her less-than-enthusiastic attitude. It's always good to make connections. Friends and acquaintances can be what get you by sometimes--when the normal channels are of no use. Make a good impression on someone like Phelix Nardstone and you never can tell how his influence can affect your chances for a Ministry position when you leave Hogwarts. But also be aware that the research business can cause you to fall in with some strange bedfellows. Still, that's always preferable to abandoning what's important to you or the wizarding world, or letting your project die--isn't that right, Chris?
Hermione glanced quickly at Dr. Null, who acknowledged Sharpe's statement with a grunt as he took a sip of tea. She found it odd that Null seemed to be avoiding eye
contact with the Ministry official.
Well, I've got a Portkey to catch, Sharpe said, standing after consulting his watch. Dr. Null will explain the project and your role more in depth tomorrow, Hermione, as I'm sure you've had quite a day already. Anything else to add right now, Chris?I'll just give her some basics about the workings of the camp for the evening, but you don't need to stick around for that, Thaddeus, Dr. Null said, standing himself. I think you've covered anything else she needs to know. I'm looking forward to finding out just what a valuable assistant you've found me. Null turned to smile briefly at Hermione.
Good luck, Miss Granger. Work hard, learn everything you can from this man, Sharpe nodded at Null, but try to enjoy yourself as well. After all, it is your summer holiday. He reached his hand toward Hermione, who shook it firmly, then Thaddeus Sharpe, still looking thoroughly unmussed, turned to stride out the door.
Well, so here we are, Dr. Null said. Where has Tod got off to? I did send for him, didn't I? Hermione asked.
Oh--that's right--you haven't met, Null answered. Tod is Tulip's, erm, partner. Mate sounds like too harsh a word for higher-order beings, don't you think?
Hermione looked at Null as if she was seeing him for the first time--and smiled. Perhaps this was going to be as fascinating as she thought it would be all along--and perhaps she'd find someone to help her clarify her own thoughts about the house-elves. Yes--I think partner' is much better. Hermione thought back on his earlier actions. Was that the note you sent earlier?Ah yes--good, Null said. I did send it. Just so you're aware... he began. You won't be meeting any of our test subjects until tomorrow, but you may have noticed the fences outside--those are more for your protection than they are for the Yeti living outside the barriers. There are, of course, wards to surround their entire habitat since the Yeti are indeed on the Endangered Magical Species list. We have magical barriers around our research compound as well, but those double fences are simply another safeguard in case some Yeti in a foul mood one day manages to work around the magic somehow. They are quite magical themselves--and up until now have been quite docile--but since we as yet have no idea what is changing their behavior for the worse... What I'm trying to say is that you must stay within the confines of the camp at all times during the evenings and at night. They sometimes even let the dogs into the area between the two fences if the Yeti are restless. Voyde's men take care of the Yeti after dark and are the only ones permitted outside the fences at that time.Voyde's men? Hermione questioned. Is Otto or Ulav the Voyde' you're talking about?Ah, here's Tod now! Dr. Null said, either ignoring or not hearing her question and looking at a point to the right of her elbow.
Having heard nothing next to her, Hermione glanced down and was surprised to see a house-elf, obviously male like Dobby, standing by her chair. He was a bit taller than Dobby and possibly a bit younger, but as much as she would like to consider herself a house-elf expert, she really didn't have enough experience with the species to tell for sure. He wore a yellow and orange curtain identical to Tulip's, but fastened it more like a toga than a dress.
Tod, this is Miss Granger, Dr. Null said.
Being ever so pleased for meeting you, Miss Granger, Tod said, bowing deeply from the waist. Hermione noticed his accent to be a bit different than those of the few other house-elves she'd spoken with at Hogwarts.
You've moved her bags into her room then, have you? Dr. Null asked.
Tod finally abandoned his bow. The bags most certainly they are there, doctor sir.Well, then-- Dr. Null said, I believe we're ready to show you to your quarters-- called a loud, deep voice from the end of the room. The man, the girl, and the house-elf all turned to see its source. Otto (or Ulav--Hermione was already hard-pressed to remember which one was which) stood at the door, holding it open and glancing rather worriedly behind him. You're needed in the lab--as soon as possible, sir. It's Spyder, sir-- Dr. Null turned to Hermione rather worriedly. Would you mind-- would it be all right if Tod showed you--
Hermione smiled a bit. Of course. Please go on. We'll be fine.
Dr. Null turned immediately and jogged to the door, then through it and beyond with Otto/Ulav at his heels.
Hermione turned back to the table to lay her napkin next to her plate and push herself away. As she stood, she noticed something out of place next to where Dr. Null had been sitting: his Ministry-issue quill was on the loose once more. Hermione reached for it and tucked it into her robe pocket with the intention of returning it later. She shook her head and sighed.
She looked down at the house-elf, who stood patiently waiting and watching her every move. Is he always like that?
Tod glanced around, as if checking to be certain no one would see his response, then nodded his head vigorously.
Well, then. I see I have my job cut out for me, Hermione said resignedly. Shall we go?
Hermione turned away from the table and followed the sight of a yellow and orange curtain toga out into the dusty quad. It had been three days since Hermione left. The argument with his mother had sent her in search of the most horrendous jobs for him to complete, including dredging the pond of what she claimed was an infestation of flobberworms along its edge. That chore alone had taken Ron a full day--along with the other chores he'd been prevented from working on the motorbike at all since Hermione had been here. But somehow he'd lost interest in most everything once she'd left anyway. That, and the sporadic pains in his head and his arms had increased since the grounding, too.
Harry and Ron had exchanged owls several times those days, providing the only light in the worried, boring, lethargic mental darkness for Ron. Harry did indeed find the situation with Hermione worrisome, but was just as certain that there was nothing he could do to help since the Order was so carefully watching him.
In trying to explain just how bad things were with him, Harry told of one day that, in exasperation, he had tried to take a walk to the park by himself just to be alone and get some fresh air. By the time he reached the end of the block, there were twelve anonymous' travelers who happened to be walking his way, certainly within five strides of reaching him should it become necessary. In addition, ravens and even a few owls (most definitely seeming out of place in the daytime) watched carefully from the trees, certain to fly for more assistance the instant something unexpected or unwelcome was noticed.
Ron's reply had been that the two of them were equally imprisoned; he was only joking in part. The worse news was that there was even some speculation that Harry would be unable to join Ron at the Burrow or at Grimmauld Place due to the extensive security precautions. Ron didn't seem especially surprised; that was just the way his summer had been going.
Finally, with all of his chores behind him and his mum off his back since he'd finished them all without complaint, Ron wandered back into the shed. If nothing else, it was cooler there, at least until the midday heat moved in. Although he was actually finished with the enormous task of sorting everything, Ron hadn't let on to his mum; she might find him yet something else to do. Plus he still wanted the motorbike for Harry's birthday, even if he would hardly be sending the refurbished bike to his best friend tied to Pig's leg. So he settled in to see what more could be done.
How's it going? a familiar voice asked after Ron had spent several hours working on re-attaching the now-polished tailpipes.
Ron looked up to see one of the friendlier faces around these days. Hi Dad, he said quietly. You're home early.I've brought you something, Arthur said in a whisper and with a twinkle in his eye. He reached inside his robes, pulling out two tall tins and setting them on the floor next to Ron.
Ron reckoned he should have been excited at this gift from the thrilled expression on his father's face, but he wasn't quite certain why. Great, Dad, and it's... Perhaps if he acted like he simply had to search for the word...
Arthur said excitedly. It's a ludicrant! You use it to make the pieces work better with one another--isn't that brilliant? Mave Harper came across them in some Muggle garage scandal he'd been sent to set right--something about a crazed Kneazle trapped inside the place all night--what a mess.
Now Ron's interest was piqued. He pried the lid off of one tin with a long, flat piece of metal and stuck his fingers in it, removing his now covered fingers and rubbing the substance between them; he lifted his fingers to his nose. Smells the same as that black stuff you said was erl but it's clear. Wiping his finger on his shorts, he noticed that it left a dark mark that looked wet (even hours later, he eventually found out). Thanks, Dad. Whether or not he ever learned exactly what to do with the stuff, Ron could hardly deny his father's enthusiasm in supporting his little project.
Any luck getting it started? Arthur Weasley asked anxiously.
Nah. It needs a key, remember? And I haven't found one down here--probably lost. I can get it off the ground for a bit with magic, but without a key it won't start and actually fly forward on its own--at least I think that's the problem--and I think there may be a Magical Failsafe Charm on it, too, Ron explained. Sirius certainly must have loved this thing. He wasn't about to let anyone have a go at stealing it.He did love it--once, Arthur said sincerely, setting his briefcase on one of the tables and slipping out of his business robes to cool off in his shirtsleeves. He dragged over a large metal box Ron had learned was an air crashener (well, that was what his dad had said) and sat down near where Ron was working. Loved to fly it more than most anything. Didn't Remus tell you?He told me Sirius loved to fly, and especially the motorbike, but he didn't tell me much more, Ron said. He ended the letter so quickly that I figured he was having trouble thinking about it. He acted like you knew most of what happened with the motorbike ever since the time it belonged to Sirius, anyway.
Arthur nodded his head a little. I suppose I do, as much as anyone. But Hagrid didn't bring the motorbike here at first, he rode it to Hogsmeade--You mean all those things really did happen? Ron asked with interest, stopping his work to sit back on the floor and listen. I mean, I know Harry's parents were killed and all-- but Hagrid really flew this motorbike to the Dursleys with Harry when he was a baby?Of course it happened. Hasn't Harry--? Arthur stopped, considering. Well, I suppose he doesn't like to talk about that night--he was too young to remember much anyway other than to repeat what he's been told. Yes, as soon as Hagrid had dropped off little Harry at the Dursleys, he said his goodbyes to Albus and Minerva. Things were a bit dicey that night, as you can imagine, and no one was certain when they'd be seeing one another again. Hagrid flew the motorbike to Lupin's house for safekeeping, but Remus, thinking by then that Sirius was a murderer and a traitor, wanted nothing to do with it, so poor Hagrid had to think of something else. Remus told him to junk it, but you know Hagrid and his big heart--he just refused to believe that Sirius was guilty and got it in his mind that the man would be acquitted. Hagrid already knew the motorbike was too large to be able to fly into Hogwarts proper or he likely would have taken it there. Ron asked. Hagrid was already thinking Sirius was innocent what with everything else that was going on? Even while Lupin thought he was guilty?There was a lot of bad information and many rumors flying around--people felt betrayed and frightened--it was difficult for anyone to make up their mind when they kept hearing conflicting reports. So, for that night at least, Hagrid flew the motorbike to just outside Hogsmeade and walked it to Rosmerta's place. He'd thought of going to Tom at the Leaky Cauldron, but he was afraid there might be too much traffic in and out of there for the murder investigation--and of course anyone found in possession of the motorbike would be interrogated on the basis that if they had the motorbike, they must have had some unknown contact with Sirius. Rosmerta, brave soul that she is, said it could be kept in her cellar until Hagrid found a better place. So that's where it stayed.Until you brought it here? Ron asked.
Oh, no, no, no, Arthur chuckled. It's only been here a little more than a year. The story gets a bit sketchy there in the middle. At some point the motorbike left Rosmerta's and found its way to number twelve, Grimmauld Place. Strange, really, because Sirius was in Azkaban at the time, but someone managed to slip it by Sirius' mother and hide it in a cluttered corner of the cellar. As far as anyone could tell, the motorbike wasn't moved for years after Sirius' trial. It must have just sat and rotted along with that old house and Kreacher.
Ron glanced over at the motorbike, which was really beginning to look quite classy, if you angled your gaze to avoid certain, erm, areas. I can guarantee that I've cleaned off more than ten or twelve years of cellar muck, so I'd definitely buy into that story. Then--don't tell me, Dad-- you found it at Grimmauld Place and wanted to bring it here to play with. His eyes sparkled as he felt certain he'd guessed the ending to the story.
What! Certainly not! Arthur said in mock indignation. If truth be told, I was asked to bring it here.Right, Dad, just like the Ministry asked you to bring the Anglia? Ron said.
Arthur pursed his lips. Well, now--that was different--and a bit stickier, I'd say. Arthur pondered that thought a moment, then appeared anxious to return to their previous discussion. Actually, what happened was that the motorbike was rediscovered once the Order began to clean up Grimmauld Place and convert it into Headquarters. One day someone found the thing and hauled it upstairs, unaware it was the one that had belonged to Sirius. Once Sirius saw the motorbike he went into a rage, screaming at Remus for keeping it after he'd told Lupin to junk it years earlier--Sirius wanted to junk it too? After he'd loved it so much? Ron asked quizzically.
It was the association he hated, not the bike, Arthur said. Every time Sirius saw it, it reminded him of the night Harry's parents were murdered--but more importantly, it reminded him of the night that he was framed for murder, only to waste away so many years of his life in Azkaban. And I'm sure the sting of betrayal dug deep as well. Ron said coldly. I could tell you what some of that betrayal feels like--and from the same source, too.As long as Sirius was a fugitive, the motorbike was a reminder of the freedom he didn't have. In any case, Remus finally calmed Sirius enough that he didn't object to being in the same house with it, but it was locked in a storage room and Sirius never touched it. In fact, Remus told me that Sirius had come to avoid even walking down that hallway because he once said the memories would reach out from under the door and grab him by the throat. Remus decided that he really might have to consider getting rid of the bike. But he didn't have the heart--once he found out Sirius really was innocent, he was actually in favor of keeping it.
Ron looked a bit confused. So now that Sirius wanted to junk it, Remus wanted to keep it?
Arthur nodded. Remus claimed he'd thought a lot about all of those years Sirius was wrongly imprisoned and somehow the memories wrapped themselves around what Sirius had told him about flying the motorbike. When they'd first left Hogwarts, Sirius used to rave on about the feeling of flying it--and that nothing else could ever make him feel so free. So Remus clung to the hope that Sirius would be acquitted one day, and that his first taste of freedom would be a ride on that motorbike. It would be a catharsis, of sorts, to help Sirius heal from all of the injustices he'd had to face in his life. By then, keeping the motorbike had become almost an obsession with Remus, years after he had wanted it destroyed under different circumstances. But Remus held on to the hope that someday Sirius would walk out of the Ministry chambers a free man; it was then that Remus would tell him about his beloved motorbike being safe and sound--if a bit unkempt--in the Weasleys' garage.I'll wager Mum was all for it, too, Ron teased.
Well, your Mum, bless her heart, hasn't the... appreciation... for these things that some people have, Arthur said. So it just sort of...slipped by...into the shed one day--pure coincidence that she wasn't home at the time, I'm sure.In other words, I was right to keep it a secret? Ron asked, raising a brow at his dad.
Oh, yes, I would think so, Arthur assured dryly. She's a very busy woman--no need to worry your mum over something as trivial as that.
Arthur and his youngest son sat in silence a short time, staring at the motorbike with all due reverence for its past. Ron finally stood and picked up the crumpled tarp lying on the floor.
Harry's going to love it, Ron, Arthur finally said softly, still admiring the motorbike a moment before Ron carefully pulled the tarp over to cover it.
Hope so, Ron said. It is starting to look really nice--too bad it doesn't work.That is a pity, Arthur agreed. But then, your mum's always worried you kids will do something stupid like you did with the car, so it's probably for the best. Ron chuckled, --something stupid? Ron knew very well his father was actually quite jealous that he'd never had the opportunity to do more than actually drive the Anglia on the crowded Muggle city streets; what he'd always wished to do was fly it.
Arthur smiled knowingly at Ron. Now you know I've always told you how very wrong I thought that was, haven't I? Even if you and the twins had a noble reason for taking it. And there was indeed that unfortunate incident with the Whomping Willow later--not a very good thing, that. Ron was aware that his father had taken some heavy heat from his Ministry superiors over the incident, but the two of them had talked it out long ago. Father and son shared a smile that told them they both knew precisely what the other was thinking and feeling at that moment and that all was forgiven, no matter what.
Why don't you come in to work with me tomorrow? Arthur asked. It'll get you out of the house. We can ask around to see if anyone knows where you might run across some motorbike parts in London. Do you have any idea which ones you need? Ron answered. Actually, going to work with his father didn't sound like a bad idea compared to sitting around here another boring day. There really wasn't much more he could do on the motorbike anyway until he found a way to get some replacement parts. He looked up at his father in appreciation. Yeah-- why not?