Thanks to T.
A worried Dora Lupin met the returning Order Members. She had woken from her sound sleep, instinctively knowing that something had gone horribly wrong. Neither Remus nor Sirius was lying next to her. Sirius, she could explain his absence because he was having a bit of a sulk. However, Remus should have been curled up next to her, his hand resting on her belly.
Unsuccessfully, she tried not to panic.
There must be a good reason why both men weren't there. Perhaps they were having a bit of a nip with Filius. The Charms Master was rumored to make a potent bitter.
Yes, they were having a bit of wizard bonding. Bitter and crisps… That was it.
No… they couldn't have left the castle.
Even the rumors that the Dark Lord had died failed to cheer her. If Remus had left to celebrate, he would have woken her, left her a message… for the love of little fuzzy werewolves, he hadn't gone to Manchester!
Remus.
She met the rather subdued group at the Entrance Hall. The assorted members of the Order were dirty, blood covered and in Harry's case, being all but carried by George Weasley. However, her eyes were focused on one thing only. A somber Hagrid was carrying… no… no… that limp bundle of rags…it couldn't be the father of her child…. It wasn't possible that Hagrid was carrying an injured Remus as gently as if he was a sleeping baby.
She wouldn't run to his side. No. No, she wouldn't panic… yet she found herself out of breath by the time she reached Hagrid.
"Let me see him." It was a command, not a request.
"Professor Dumbledore says I have to immediately take him to Poppy," Hagrid protested.
"He's my husband," was her retort. "Let me see him."
Hagrid carefully lowered Remus and Dora put her hands on his face. He was burning to the touch and his breath was rattling in his chest. His graying, light brown hair was plastered against his head due his high fever… however, was there more grey in his hair? Why were his throat and hands red, the skin blistered as though burned? Remus appeared seriously ill and his skin seemed… argent.
"Love… I'm here," Dora whispered to her husband.
Something… her voice… her touch seemed to reach him in his delirium as he partially opened his eyes. He managed to half smile when he realized that it was his adorable Dora.
She inhaled when she realized that the sclera of his eyes …. They were silver. Gleaming silver.
No… no… it couldn't be…. silver toxicity.
Dora knew the signs well as she had researched it when she had first set her cap for the werewolf. Her fancying the werewolf had made her klutzier than her norm, so she had thought it prudent to research the effect of silver on a werewolf. Just in case she accidentally stabbed him with her fork during dinner. Silver scleras and skin diagnosed that the silver was in his blood which meant there was a high risk of hemolysis. His red blood cells would burst and…bloody hell…he would die….
There was no known cure for a silver toxicity. It would be a long and painful death. And he'd be long dead before their son was born.
"Love you…" he mouthed. "Don't worry… I'll be fine."
"I gotta get him to Poppy." Hagrid reminded Dora.
"Go… I'll be there in just a minute." Dora Lupin gently buzzed her husband on his cheek. "Poppy will take good care of you. You know how much she likes you. Remind her that you're married, love."
It was a long standing joke between the two of them that the older Hogwarts Hens were a bit too fond of Remus.
George and Hagrid hurried off to the infirmary with their charges and then Dora Lupin turned to face the remaining Order Members. Her hair was now pitch black and she seemed taller, more threatening than her norm. Subconsciously or not, Dora Lupin looked a great deal like a very irate Minerva McGonagall.
"What the bloody hell happened?" Dora was struggling to keep her temper under control. She had Teddy to worry about and she reassuringly patted her belly.
Your Da will be fine, Teddy. Your Uncle Sirius…well… we're not sure about that…
Sirius said not a word. Instead, he shook his head.
"SIRIUS PHINEAS BLACK!" When Dora Lupin was in full voice, no one could match her – not even Molly Weasley. "Why the bloody hell was Remus in Manchester?"
A subdued Sirius Black still would not look at her.
Bloody hell, was Sirius sniveling? Wiping tears from his eyes?
"He went after you, didn't he? You couldn't leave well enough alone. Dumbledore ordered you not to go to Manchester. Instead of listening, you decided to have a nice holiday in Manchester! So help me, if Remus dies because of your arrogant, self-absorbed narcissism… I'll kill you myself. What the bloody hell happened?"
Sirius still said not a word.
"Sirius went after us," inserted a rather somber Hermione.
"Bloody Harry… went to bloody Manchester! So Sirius decided to join the party?" Dora's tone was cutting.
"Voldemort's dead," offered a hopeful Ron.
At one time, Nymphadora Tonks Lupin would have rejoiced at that news, but not now.
"And my baby may not have a father. How did Remus get silver in his blood? Sirius, if anything happens to Remus, it will be your fault!"
Hestia Jones stepped forward.
"I'll explain as much as I can, but you'll need to sit down for this. Also, please don't interrupt me as it's confusing enough."
Hestia motioned and two comfortable armchairs appeared.
"Let's sit, Dora. It starts off like this… it seems that Severus and Albus were lovers…" Hestia began to explain.
"WHAT?" was the chorus of yelps from Dora, Ron and Hermione.
The apple cheeked witch held out one hand to silence the trio. "Come now, in these enlightened times are you stunned? Yes, they were lovers and it help explains what happened. When Voldemort captured Severus, he used Albus' appearance to hurt him, so Severus didn't know up from down…who to trust …. and so he ran… and somehow he met one of Gellert's wizards… and this wizard seemed to take a real shine to Severus."
"Being a double agent…" Dora slowly began.
"Yes, Severus' knowledge could be quite helpful for Gellert's wizard… so Gellert's wizard and his friends captured Remus and presented him to Severus because…" Hestia paused.
"Because he could show Severus that he'd protect him," finished Dora. "With Severus being unable to trust Albus…"
She was furious, unbelievably so… and Dora Lupin glared at the crestfallen Sirius Black.
"No matter how you try to weasel your way out of this, Sirius, this is your fault. Your teenage stupidity has come back hundredfold. You are a TRUE BLACK, Sirius. You bullied Severus for years, and finally, someone decided to stick up for him. And Teddy might not have a father because of you, because… Remus has silver poisoning. You've finally done it."
Sirius Black shrunk into himself.
"If Severus had died all those years ago, they would have put Remus down. Now, all these years later, you've finally succeeded."
"Easy now," Filius warned Albus. "Let's nudge it this way."
It was delicate work, nudging and cajoling a rather cranky magical nexus into returning back where it was supposed to be. Manchester was still rumbling beneath their feet and there had been a heart-stopping moment when the rumble had turned into a roar.
With an almost audible snap, the nexus returned back to its location. Manchester shook once and stopped. There was silence, and the earth was finally still.
"It's done," Albus announced. "It's flowing properly."
"Yes," was Filius' curt response. Normally he was never terse; however he was still examining the nodes, wondering about the magic that wasn't there. Draganov had pooled it and when Damyan had died, it should have gone directly back into the nodes.
Yet it hadn't. The formerly rogue nodes, now repositioned, were quite well behaved. They had been heavily drained, more of a bubbling stream than the rampaging currents they had been.
Damyan had thrown something backhanded, toward Severus, just before he had fallen.
Thrown something…. Backhanded… toward…Severus? Filius' agile mind presented him with several interesting hypotheses.
Severus.
Had the nodes been drained sufficiently to provide adequate magical energy to satisfy a ravenous sprog for the next few months?
Yes.
Really, it was rather embarrassing that a dark wizard had taken better care of one of Filius' colleagues than he had. And that left Filius owing a debt that needed to be paid.
"Go to the Ministry, Albus," Filius not so gently suggested. "I know what needs to be done."
There was a Russian witch that was in need of some assistance that only Filius Flitwick could provide. Come to think of it, Horace Slughorn's multiple contacts could be quite helpful also.
Alastor Moody growled when he saw the smoking mess that once was Nurmengard. With a brusque nod of his head, he hobbled over to his trusty steed, a nicely modified Nimbus.
"I want a closer look, and like bloody hell am I walking up thirteen flights of steps," he growled.
Flitwick had been correct, as always. When the Nurmengard guards had seen Moody's scarred visage, they had immediately turned everything over to him to handle.
He hovered over Gellert's former flat for a bit, determining the physics required to produce the amount of damage, what the trajectory had been, the velocity required. Yes… physics… all Aurors were required to pass two years worth of fundamental physics. Harry Potter may be the luckiest lad to ever take a piss, but he'd still need to buckle down for his Auror training.
Let's see…. The acceleration due to magical gravity, angle of the spell, estimated velocity, the proposed horizontal distance… meant the height was…
No, it couldn't be.
Alastor decided to recheck his math. The acceleration due to magical gravity, angle of the spell, estimated velocity, the proposed horizontal distance… meant the height was… and combined with the anti-hovering charms, anti-flying carpet charms and anti-Compelled Giant spell…
Bloody hell. Gellert's wizards knew how to fly.
Where the hell had they learned that?
Horace Slughorn was not a particularly brave man. Least he believed himself to be, even though today he had gone toe to toe with a crazy Dark Mage and survived a Magical Apocalypse that had no doubt changed the climate in Western Europe.
But now, he had to take his druthers by their bootstraps and pull. He put his hand in front of Albus who was about to barrel his way into the Minister of Magic's office.
"Albus," he commanded. "We need to talk strategy before you go in there."
"Strategy?" Albus repeated. The defeater of Gellert and Voldemort was looking a bit worse for wear. His wrinkled dark clothes were stained and his hair needed a good brushing. Plus Horace thought Albus smelt a might… masculine… as though the older mage had dueled, fought in a magical apocalypse and then stabilized a rapidly sinking Manchester.
"We need to get you looking proper. You look like you've popped in from a war zone," Horace protested.
"I did," was Dumbledore's mild retort. "Perhaps you missed it?"
"You'll lose the advantage if you go in there like that. You look tired, and they'll take that as a sign of weakness. You need to negotiate from an appearance of strength. Come with me." Horace commanded. Then he took his life in his hands and pulled Albus into an empty room. "Nessie?"
A small House Elf was waiting for them. She had a dozen different robes, assorted hair care products and a steaming bowl of hot warm complete with hand towels and soap. She even had a small assortment of finger sandwiches and a tea set.
"Horace…"
"Albus… you've been wearing those clothes since whatever the bloody hell happened in Prague happened. Now which outfit do you wish to wear?"
"Tweeds and tartans, Horace? I can tell who pick out these out." Albus protested.
"Well, Nessie insisted on adding a few other choices. Dear girl is a bit of a fashionista!" Horace laughed and the House Elf blushed. "Now, now, I'm not mocking you, Nessie. Albus! She has tried to separate me from my tweed jackets!"
"Really, you could try a more flattering pattern, perhaps even a solid," was Dumbledore's retort. "However, I could really do with a bit of wash up."
"I won't look, old chap. You're not my type." Horace assured him. Nessie the House Elf closed her eyes and then covered them with her little hands.
Horace made himself comfortable in a chair that he spelled up for the occasion, and then looked away from Albus. There was the sound of splashing.
"You can no longer be Severus' keeper." That proclamation announced, Horace the sage took one of Albus' sandwiches for himself. Truly, it had been a rather strenuous day and he required sustenance.
"That thought had crossed my mind. However, who would they allow to assume the role of Severus' warden? No doubt he is classified as doubly dangerous, as he has fallen in with Gellert's crowd."
"Minerva," was Horace's immediate response. "Turn responsibility for Severus over to Minerva. Let her be his warden. He trusts her… as much as Severus can trust anyone after this hullabaloo. She buffered Severus from you and she stood up to Draganov. "
"Unfortunately, I don't see them switching his parole over to Minerva. While you and I well know how formidable Minerva truly is, they do not. I fear that he be remanded to Alastor Moody."
"I've called in a few favors," was all to which a modest Horace would admit. His humility earned him an appreciative chuckle from Dumbledore.
"However, the transition must be deftly handed, for if I renege on that agreement before Minerva is accepted as his guardian, Severus may have to stay in Azkaban," was Albus' protest. "I think we can both agree that we desire him out of Azkaban."
"Yes," Horace agreed before tucking into another sandwich.
"I'm presentable," Albus announced. "I feel so much better. Almost human in fact. Thank you, Horace. Thank you, Nessie. Are you Horace's personal House Elf?"
The House Elf shook her head. "Nessie helping as Nessie needed."
"She's new to Hogwarts and is in the general staff." Horace explained. "But she's always willing to help me when I need assistance. I find her quite discreet and I know she would love to have her own staff member to garb. Perhaps, Severus might be in need of a House Elf when he returns? I'm sure our little fashionista could get him into a new shade."
The little House Elf's ears perked up and she began jumping up and down in delight.
"Nessie having Master now! Nessie will dress Master! Nessie dressed Mistress prettily! Now Nessie having Master!"
"Wait… wait…" Horace protested while the deliriously happy House Elf continued to bounce in her excitement. "I didn't promise you Severus!"
Albus looked at the House Elf and remembered the rather woe begotten Elf she had been a few short months ago. Her Mistress and her family had died in an attack by the Death Eaters, and the little Elf had deeply grieved for the lost of the little babies she had once minded.
She was probably the only House Elf in all of Hogwarts who had recent nappy changing experience, Albus realized. Severus would need assistance with Ariana, perhaps he might be willing to make use of a House Elf for a few hours a day.
"Very well, Severus may be in need of a House Elf or three in September," Albus finally decided. "But only if she can keep silent. Nessie, can you be… quiet?"
The House Elf stopped in mid-leap. She looked up at Albus, her big brown eyes full of tears and she was nodding her head. Deliberately, she put her hands over her mouth.
"Most importantly, Severus will have to agree to accept you as his House Elf. He's never utilized any of the Hogwarts House Elf before, you see," Albus gently explained to the little House Elf.
Her ears drooped and she nodded her understanding.
"Nessie, are you truly old enough to work at Hogwarts?" Albus asked. Truly, the House Elf seemed quite the innocent what with her overjoyed enthusiasm.
She furiously nodded her head.
"Work full time?" Albus prompted.
Her head stopped in mid-nod and she looked intently elsewhere. That answered that question.
"Or are you only permitted to work a few hours a day?"
Her ears drooped still further.
"Nessie, I want you to go speak with Pomona Sprout. You are to inform her that you are underaged… and… "
The House Elf trembled as she feared that she'd be kicked out of Hogwarts for lying regarding her age.
"That you must finish your schooling. Also advise her that I will speak to her regarding your future employment at Hogwarts. Until then, you are not to work more hours than a House Elf of your age is permitted. I believe that you're only allowed to work two hours a day, Nessie."
"Nessie be having no one, no one wanting good Nessie," the House Elf sorrowfully explained. "After Mistress gone… so Nessie went to Hogwarts."
"Go to Pomona, Nessie. She'll take good care of you," Albus softly promised.
The House Elf quickly cleaned up and then disappeared with a soft "pop".
"Now, if I could only handle this crisis as well," Albus admitted.
Hagrid was surprisingly gentle as he carried Remus to Poppy. The Mediwitch was very somber when she saw Remus, and she pointed to the isolation ward. Harry was abruptly dismissed to one of the cots with a quick hand gesture from the Matron.
It was blessedly dark in the ward. Thankfully, as his eyes were photosensitive. It had taken all his strength not to voice his pain when he had opened his eyes to look at Dora. Desperately, he had wanted that one last look at his wife.
He was placed just so on the bed and Hagrid quietly left. Truly it was unnerving that Hagrid could move that silently.
Thank God, it was cool in the room. He was drenched in sweat yet he was so damn bloody hot.
"Poppy?" Remus whispered. He reached for Poppy's hand and squeezed it hard. "I'm dying."
"Don't say that," was Poppy's somber response. "I will tell you when you're dying."
The tart-tongued Poppy wasn't telling him that he was mistaken, he noted.
"Silver's in my brain. I'm hallucinating…" Remus painfully smiled and then swallowed. "Severus can't be… pregnant… with Albus' baby… It's just not physically possible! I mean… I think I saw purple unicorns? Men having babies… Severus and Albus having… sex… The silver's hit my brain. Though… he walks like Dora does…"
Ekaterina helped Severus to his feet. He muttered a protest about how he was able to stand on his own, but the witch just shook her head. Really, he should be grateful for the help as his center of balance was quite off these days.
The guard look confused over the fact that there were two people, one boy, one girl, and two fuzzy cats sitting in the same cell. He waved his hands in a confused sort of gesture, and then shook his head.
"They know what they're doing," he mumbled. "The medics are checking you out."
Severus had thought perhaps Albus Dumbledore would be making a pest out of himself, demanding his admittance to the ward, but he wasn't expecting Filius Flitwick. The diminutive Charms Master gave him a secretive wink and patted his stomach. Severus was immediately cheered by Filius' appearance because that meant that the unexpected Ariana would be kept secret. Not that he doubted Damyan's wards. However a live Charms Masters of Filius' towering reputation was better than the promises of deranged, dead Dark Wizard, no matter how sincere.
"As part of the Accords of Azkaban, you're allowed a representative during the intake process. That would be me," explained Filius. "Minerva has agreed to be Ms. Dobrolubskaia's representative. We thought it would be proper to have Minerva bear witness, though Serge volunteered."
The Healer pointed at one of the causality wards and then indicated Severus.
"Get in there," the Healer commanded. "Take everything off and wrap yourself in the sheet. I'll be in shortly. No funny stuff. And you, witch, you go to the room on the right."
They had physically restrained him, and he savagely growled his frustration when he realized that that he was also magically controlled. Really, wasn't it a bit overly dramatic to do both? Like they thought he would hurt someone, weakened though he was.
The articulation of his growing aggravation caused the young Healer to jump a meter or so. He growled louder, delighting in her fear of him. Then he manfully struggled once more to free himself of their restraints. The cot cracked beneath him and he continued to fight against his restraints.
The fever was in his blood. It pulsed and raced through his body, and he was furious.
The bloody idiots had put his foot on wrong.
They had put his bloody foot on wrong.
How the bloody hell did anyone expect him to kill Dumbledore when he was the bloody Hopping Pot made incarnate?
Bloody hell, they had put his foot on wrong, thrown him in a wooden box and had bloody tried to bloody bury him. They knew he was bloody claustrophobic and they put him in a bloody box and …it was enough to make him blow his bloody top. He kill them all, if he could get out of the damn restraints.
He screamed his frustration and reached for his magic. Reached for it, had it, and then he twisted just so… the windows in the building exploded outward and then his power was gone. He raged again, nearly incoherent in his desire to destroy.
They came for him then, the Bulgarians, the Russians and the Czechs… and he fought. But he was unaided and there were so many of them that they quickly overpowered him.
Gellert Grindelwald shook his head at the inhuman shrieks coming from the heavily warded casualty ward.
"How many this time?" He questioned, more out of a sense of required decorum rather than any real interest.
"A dozen," Byakko informed his Lord. His tone was dispassionate as he dismissed the carnage.
"Should have brought his woman instead of leaving her behind," Gellert complained. "I don't desire to lose any of my followers."
"He didn't kill anyone and next time, they'll move faster. They'll have more respect for him after he's nearly killed them. Also, they'll confirm that he's actually dead rather than just severely magically depleted. Damn good thing that Toma and Rada refused to believe he was dead."
The thunder cracked while the lightning snaked across the sky. Damyan's temper tantrum was playing havoc with the weather, Gellert noted. First time he was out of his cell in decades, and Damyan's eppies were causing a monsoon.
He pouted, a perfect sulk that had once charmed the great Albus Dumbledore.
"It's a shame that he is in no condition to take on Albus," Gellert mused.