Chapter 16:

Mathilde Dubois

Uncle Harry listened without interrupting, walking slowly through the Hogwarts grounds toward Hagrid's cabin. Teddy finished just as they got to the pen where Buckbeak was poking at a manger full of dead rats. They both bowed to him, distracted, and sat down on a bench by the wall. Uncle Harry knocked on the window to let Hagrid know they were there, but shook his head to indicate that they weren't there for supper.

"Why didn't you tell me you were doing this?" he asked when Teddy fell silent.

"I didn't know if I'd find anything. It might have been stupid."

"It might still be. You're allowed to do things that don't work out."

"I know. But I was worried that you'd end up wasting your time just because... you know."

"Because I love you?"

"Well... yes."

"Well, I suppose I'm glad you know I probably would follow up on anything you had in mind, though it means you don't consider me a brilliant Auror and infallible division head. I'm not sure I'll survive the blow." He smiled faintly. "I'm not sure how I feel about you getting this close to Greyback's mind."

"Well, I don't want to kill anyone or eat anyone, if it makes you feel better."

"Mmm."

Teddy bit his lip. "Is it any good?"

"Yes." Uncle Harry sighed. "You have good instincts. If you want a post when you get out of school - "

"No," Teddy said. "Thanks, but no."

"Well, if you rethink it..." He shrugged. "I'm going to look into it. It's not going to look like anything at first. Our relations in that part of the world have been a bit strained since Voldemort broke into Nurmengard. I'll contact Viktor Krum. His wife's brother is in their magical law enforcement department. He may be able to help keep feathers unruffled."

"They don't imagine we sent Voldemort?" Teddy asked, alarmed.

"They don't especially care," Uncle Harry said, then shook his head sharply. "You don't need to worry about that. I'll take care of the politics. Now that there's some good reason I can give them for poking around in the forest, maybe they'll be a little more willing to help us, anyway. Meanwhile, will you please get Greyback out of your head? I don't want him in there any more than he's forced himself to be."

"I can handle it," Teddy said.

"The point is that you shouldn't have to. Go play games. Do your homework. Snog your girlfriend."

"She broke up with me."

Uncle Harry feigned shock, then said, "Shall I arrest her?"

Teddy laughed. "No."

"Just scare her a bit, maybe?"

"Really, it's quite all right."

"Oh, come on. Just one nasty curse."

Teddy rolled his eyes, and the conversation about Greyback seemed to fall further and further away, until it was impossible to remember that only an hour ago, he'd been with Professor McGonagall in the past, in some impossibly distant world where Astrid had lived in her squalid cabin with her vicious son Fenny.

Uncle Harry walked him back up to the castle, where he was able to squeeze in for the very last few minutes of supper. Ruthless gave him a guilty look. He threw a pea at her. Her eyes widened comically, then she laughed, and threw it back. They didn't talk, and they didn't walk back to Gryffindor Tower together, but still, she did throw a pea at him. And laugh. The weirdness might pass.

He'd forgotten that Victoire was in his room, and was surprised by the flicker of candlelight until he remembered. She was still at his desk - the room looked mercifully uncorrected - scratching at an essay that was rolling off the back toward the floor.

"I'm almost done," she said. "I just need to put in something about Clabbert dung."

"What essay would work without Clabbert dung?" Teddy asked, pulling out his books and going to sit in the window nook. He left the door open, as Victoire was a girl. Checkmate disengaged herself from a play fight with Bushy long enough to attack his dangling shoelace.

"Do you remember the day it got away? Your Clabbert from Hagrid's class?" Victoire said.

"Sure."

"Well, it was throwing its dung, and some got all over Story. We decided to try it as fertilizer with our Jumping Juniper. It actually made it calm down!"

"Really?"

"Really! I think it's because Clabberts are danger-sensers, and that makes the plant know when it's not in trouble. So we've been getting Clabbert dung from Hagrid since September, and we've got quite a lot of information."

Teddy looked at her sprawling essay. "I can tell."

"Can I finish here? I think it's only a few more paragraphs."

Teddy supposed there were a hundred reasons to say no, but they all sounded silly in context. She was Victoire, after all. A girl, but not a girl, per se. So he shrugged and let her finish up at his desk while he read a few chapters from his Transfiguration book. Finally, she made a great flourish with her quill and smiled in a self-satisfied way. "Done."

"Good," Teddy said.

She looked at him blankly for a minute, then said, "Well, I'll go then."

"All right."

She dried the ink on her essay, then rolled it up and tucked it carefully in her purse. Bushy didn't immediately want to leave his game of chase with his sister, so Teddy had to put down his book to pick up Checkmate while Victoire gathered Bushy. The cats furiously bumped noses.

"We should bring them to the Common Room more," Teddy said. "I think the Common Room is safe enough."

Victoire agreed that this was a fine idea, and promised to bring Bushy down every night, if Teddy would bring Checkmate. She left a few minutes later, looking put out about something, though Teddy had no idea what.

He thought he'd set Greyback aside, as Uncle Harry had told him to do, but in his dreams, he saw Astrid in the Headmaster's office, and her blood splashed onto the walls of the horrible cottage. He saw the child Fenny, whose face he could only imagine, sitting up in the Gryffindor Common Room, waiting for a weak child to come along. At one point in the dream, he saw his father, his grandmother Julia, and Fenny, all the same age, sitting in the chairs by the fireplace. They seemed to be ignoring one another, but someone had bound them all up together with tendrils of the Lionbloom. Teddy tried to scream for Dad and Julia to get away, but nothing came out. They couldn't turn, anyway, couldn't talk to him. They were both dead. Fenny, on the other hand, winked at him obscenely.

The next morning, he got a note of thanks for tea from Professor McGonagall, who chose to ignore the vast majority of their conversation and say that she enjoyed discussing his question about Animagus forms and Patronuses. She recommended several books which she thought he might enjoy on the subject. Teddy thought this strange, as he didn't remember being especially enthusiastic, then he remembered that she had been the Marauders' teacher as well. He wondered if, after she'd found out what they'd done for Dad, she'd gone to the library to see which Transfiguration books had their signatures.

He found that he wasn't curious. An odd sort of numbness seemed to have come down around him. He spent time with his friends, even got along well with Ruthless. He did well at his lesson with Uncle Harry on Thursday, and didn't ask about Greyback. He enjoyed a Muggles and Minions game that Frankie took time out from studying to put together. He trimmed a Clabbert's toenails and managed to actually see something in the water around his tea leaves in Divination, though Professor Trelawney was less than impressed with his prediction that she would lose one of her shoes on the way back from Hogsmeade. That it happened didn't improve her mood.

All of this seemed to be happening at a distance while he waited to know what had come of Uncle Harry's search. The dreams were the only things that felt urgent, and even they didn't seem real. Now and then, he'd find himself on Tirza's ship again, and she seemed to desperately want to talk to him, but he continued to ignore her. It was like being stuck between Floo points, in the place that was no place, except that here, he felt no wonder. He was just living in a bubble, waiting for something to happen.

The bubble burst on Monday, a week and a day after Teddy had talked to Uncle Harry. He was reaching for a carafe of orange juice when the post owls swooped in with the Daily Prophet for everyone who subscribed.

The headline was huge, four letters that took up a quarter of the page: RAID. Opposite it was a picture of Uncle Harry, Ron, and a few other Aurors leading seven ragged-looking people across a windswept roof.

Teddy read the article, his numbness dissipating. Greyback hadn't been caught, but they'd found the main camp, and rescued several local children who were being held there. Thirteen werewolves altogether had been arrested, but only the seven in the picture had been extradited to Britain; the other six were being held in Nurmengard.

Everyone was excited about this, and it was the major subject of every class (except History of Magic, of course). Trelawney claimed to have foreseen it. Professor Flitwick talked about the Aurors' Charms and hexes. Robards explained how the Aurors had to have worked together. Hagrid gave them a break from Clabberts to talk about werewolves.

Teddy hadn't realized how frightened everyone had been until something happened that made them realize they could take action against what was frightening them. The response - for that day - was elation.

It was the next day that Mathilde Dubois introduced herself.

When Uncle Harry came in from guard duty to talk to Professor Longbottom at dinner, there was a burst of deafening applause. Honoria Higgs pushed her way up to the high table and asked if she could interview him about the raid. He said he'd have to decline, since the investigation was still going on. He looked a little dazed at the confrontation. Before going out onto the grounds to patrol, he took Teddy aside and said that he'd told the press that they'd been acting on an anonymous tip, as Greyback had quite enough reasons to dislike Teddy.

"But they were there?" Teddy asked.

"Exactly where you guessed," Uncle Harry confirmed. "I wish we'd got Greyback, but we got a good lot of them."

Teddy went to bed feeling good and useful, and somewhat pleased at having a secret hand in it all. When he drifted off, he found himself on Tirza's ship again. She had gone off to the island, but Holt, for some reason, had stayed aboard this time, up in the crow's nest. Teddy tried to talk to him, but he was too far away.

He overslept and was late getting into the Great Hall for breakfast. At first he didn't realize anything was wrong. It was a little quiet, maybe, especially after yesterday, but it was a Tuesday morning, nothing particular happening. No reason for a great commotion.

He didn't notice anything was wrong until he sat down across from Ruthless, whose face was pale and set, and beside Victoire, who was shaking her head at the Daily Prophet.

"What is it?" he asked.

"This isn't what happened," Victoire said. "It can't be what happened. It's Uncle Harry and Uncle Ron!"

"It's what happened," Ruthless said coldly. "But that doesn't mean it's the truth."

Teddy looked between them. "What is it?" he asked again.

Victoire handed him the paper, which was open to the center. A long article in small type appeared there, headed by an editor's note.

MINISTRY PERSECUTION OF WEREWOLVES by Mathilde Dubois The Daily Prophet received this communication late yesterday, via owl post. After much discussion, it was deemed newsworthy, though its sentiments are not representative of our editorial staff.

Teddy frowned. Across from him, Ruthless snorted. "Discussion," she said, obviously realizing that he'd read the editor's note. "More like trying to figure out how well their houses were guarded."

Teddy looked back down and continued to read.

The first known British werewolf, one Russell Marley, was captured in 1535 and sent to Azkaban, though he had committed no crime. Whilst there, he was deprived of moonlight, and died of injuries sustained by a violent, delayed transformation. Perhaps they knew no better then, they thought the transformation could be averted by denial of the catalyst. They've since learned better. St. Mungo's now provides a dismal hole in the ceiling of a London ward, where werewolves can change while bound to the walls or beds in heavy iron chains. The Werewolf Registry kindly places its two-meter square cages aboveground, in a rubbish-strewn alley.

Great progress overall, I'm sure.

Meanwhile, in the forests of Eastern Europe, a colony of lycanthropes has grown in more natural surroundings. Among the tree shadows and brooks and rivers, we have lived at peace with our neighbors, taken care of our own, and celebrated our lives, as every sentient creature has the right to do.

I can hear the outcry in Britain already. Werewolves! Murderous beasts! Unnatural creatures!

I will take a moment to point out that, until the interference of your Ministry, we caused such deep trouble for our hosts that they were entirely unaware of our existence.

Yes, that's right. No ravening packs, no stolen children... at least not until ours were stolen.

Let me tell you of our vicious life.

In the morning, we awoke to the fresh open air. We hunted and foraged for food in nature's bounty. We worked together to build shelter and educate ourselves in magic, as those of us who were exiled by our illness before school age were denied any sort of formal education. I was lucky - I had nearly completed my education at Beauxbatons when I took the opportunity to join this group, and my education, particularly in magical modes of transportation, has been my contribution. And how poor it seems in comparison to what I've learned about living as I was intended to live! A charm that aids in Apparating is an amusing toy, but it can't be eaten.

Once our study was past, we socialized with one another, grooming each other, keeping each other warm in the cold. We were free of any political nonsense, free of any need we couldn't fulfill for one another - except for the need for freedom from persecution.

On Sunday, as we sat down to share our modest meal together, a force of armed wizards, led by the British Ministry and Auror Harry Potter (rather far out of his jurisdiction) invaded our sanctuary, gathered up several of our members, and stole orphaned children we cared for and sent them to be raised by strangers. This last is a deep blow, as lycanthropic women can't bear children of their own, due to the violence of the monthly transformations - these lost children were the only ones we might have nurtured. By what right does the British Ministry choose who may raise children, and how, particularly among those not even subject to its laws?

That, of course, is the argument. The British Ministry complains that we have given sanction to Fenrir Greyback, who made the mistake of allying himself with the rebellion in your civil war nearly fifteen years ago. For this crime, he was sent to your brutal prison, Azkaban, where he was kept in a small cage, even during his transformations. He bore no Dark Mark, simply fought on the losing side of a war. Let no one imagine that his lycanthropy wasn't a factor in the decision to imprison him. The Malfoy family, which was far more deeply involved, which provided a haven to the rebellion's leader, is presently enjoying a comfortable holiday, financed by an untouched treasure in Gringotts. Their children have remained with them. Fenrir Greyback, who simply chose not to live under laws that mistreated him, was imprisoned for life.

And why would he subject himself to your laws? Laws that bind us in iron, laws that deny our rights, laws that declare us "dark creatures" - and this is for those misguided lycanthropes who dutifully play along. If you believe I am wrong, I ask you to watch what happens to a Hogwarts staff member called Vivian Waters. She is a werewolf. She's concealed this fact. By the laws of the country to which she claims loyalty, she will be dismissed, unless someone makes special political dispensations for her, and that will only be because she has friends in high places. What is different about her between yesterday and now? Only what I have just told you. Even a werewolf like Remus Lupin, who fought side by side with Albus Dumbledore, was relegated to abject poverty, stripped of what property he managed to acquire, and if he had survived the battle he was forced into, would have been expected to continue barbaric registration procedures, and would be unable to hold the position for which he had trained.

Teddy stopped reading. The paper was shaking, and one of his fingers had shredded the corner. He could hear his blood pounding in his head. Nothing she'd said was untrue - except, he suspected, the part about no children having been stolen, and he was reasonably sure that Neil Overby would have something to say about that, though, to be fair, he hadn't disappeared anywhere near their camp - but the idea that she was using Dad to slur Uncle Harry and support Greyback's pack was... was...

"Teddy?" Ruthless said. "Are you - "

He shook his head. Beside him, Victoire put one warm hand on his wrist. He looked up at the high table. Vivian wasn't there. And he didn't think he was the only person in the room looking for her.

He gulped down a few breaths, and turned back to the vile article:

The representatives of this enlightened world of yours stepped arrogantly into a foreign land, using personal connections to gain permission from their lapdogs. They brutally stripped our brothers and sisters from us, gathering our children, screaming, from the only homes they knew. The last I saw of the child I was raising - a bright, beautiful girl with eyes the soft blue of a midsummer day - she was kicking and screaming as an ill-bred red-headed Auror Apparated away with her.

They tried to stop any of us from escaping by putting Apparition barriers up before they invaded, but, as I said, I have a talent with magical transportation. I was able to break through them. I suggest you all remember this.

You cannot expect to steal our children without consequence, to imprison our family without retaliation. Justice will come. We will carry it, but your Aurors are the ones who brought it on you.

Slowly, Teddy put the newspaper down. The threat of vengeance attacks, even the implication that she'd developed a way to get through Apparition barriers, seemed unimportant posturing. He'd make sure that Uncle Harry knew how she'd done it, so he could protect his family and Granny, but it was still his father's name, there in the midst of that bile that was caught in his mind.

The picture she'd painted of children frolicking at an ongoing picnic denied everything that Teddy knew, everything anyone knew, but it was fresh and new, and of course bringing up the Malfoys had been a good trick.

He looked back at the high table. Honoria Higgs was trying to get Professor Longbottom to talk to her. He looked very irritated. He was trying to get out. Teddy guessed he meant to go to Vivian. Hagrid was already gone.

Teddy stood up slowly, ignoring Victoire and Ruthless. He set the paper down and went to the high table. He could hear Honoria now.

"...true that she's a werewolf? Was it Greyback who did that damage to her face?"

Teddy tapped her shoulder. "Honoria?"

She turned - giving Professor Longbottom a chance to escape - and said, "What?"

"On the train in September, you said you wanted an interview. Do you still want one?"

He arranged to meet her in the anteroom outside the Great Hall after the afternoon's last class, and spent of the day thinking about the interview Uncle Harry had done with Rita Skeeter during his fifth year (and trying not to think of the disastrous one he'd mentioned from his fourth), which had changed the course of the war. He hurried out of Herbology - Professor Longbottom had been distracted, and kept looking out the windows - still smelling of sour fertilizer, and ran up to the castle as the sun set. Honoria was waiting for him, her dark hair up in a bun, trying to look very professional.

She spread out a piece of parchment on a table and held out her quill. "It's a BasiQuill," she said. "Like Quick Quotes, but without the style spells. It just records. You can test it if you'd like. Professor Slughorn doesn't allow Quick Quotes on the Charmer."

"I'm not surprised. How do I test it?"

"Just say 'BasiQuill accuracy test,' then say anything you want. Then say 'End test.' Then read it."

Teddy activated the Quill and said, "This is Ted Remus Lupin. Is this what I said? End test." He looked at it. It had recorded accurately enough. He looked back up at Honoria. "And you'll leave it as it is?"

"I'll make a story of it," she said. "I'm not going to just do a question-and-answer."

"I just don't want to end up looking like I said things I didn't. I heard about the TriWizard interview that Rita Skeeter did."

"Rita knows how to write a story that sells," Honoria said, shrugging indifferently.

"But it wasn't a true story."

"Well, Slughorn won't run anything without checking on it, especially from me."

"What's your angle going to be?"

Honoria narrowed her eyes. "You came to me, Lupin. Not the other way around. I'll be asking the questions. The first one is, why now? You haven't wanted to talk about this all year. Was it the article by Mathilde Dubois?"

"Well... of course it was."

"What can you tell me?" she asked avidly. "Do you know anything about the raid?"

"No. But I know about Greyback. He killed my grandmother's cat. He's been sending me little notes."

"Do you have them?"

"I have one. I burned the other."

Honoria frowned. "But you haven't actually met him?"

"Er... no. I met Mina, the woman who got him out of Azkaban. She showed up at the gate and said they meant to take me."

"Oh." Honoria took out a second, normal quill, and began jotting notes on another piece of paper. "After Mathilde was speaking from the inside, a couple of notes and a dead cat aren't going to get us far."

"What?"

"You read what she wrote. An insider's perspective. She was there for the raid and saw everything. I don't suppose you could get your godfather to talk to me."

"I don't think so..."

"What about Vivian Waters? Was she part of the pack?"

"My father and mother rescued... I don't know if I can talk about Vivian. Her story doesn't belong to me to tell."

"Could you get her to talk to me?"

"Are you going to make her sound bad?"

Honoria shrugged. "That wouldn't be very interesting. Newsflash, werewolf is bloodthirsty. No, we have to do what Dubois did. Someone nice and innocent and just trying to get along. Only we'll make Greyback the villain!" She said this as though it were a lightning bolt out of a clear blue sky.

"That's not very hard to do," Teddy scoffed.

"After what Dubois did this morning?" Honoria sighed, and looked a lot older than she was. "Rita told me once that she doesn't just write nasty books because they're nasty. She writes nasty books because everyone loves to find out that something they thought was true isn't. People are mad for gossip, and that's why. They can put things together in some new way that makes them feel smarter than they were."

"Smarter for believing something idiotic?"

Another shrug. Teddy had a feeling that she was quoting Rita Skeeter directly. "Smarter because they're not going to be fooled by the 'official' story any more. So if you have someone like Albus Dumbledore, you write about how he was tempted by Grindelwald's psychotic ramblings - and probably his pretty hair, if you read between the lines - and people come out of it feeling like they've twigged to something. If you try to push the other version back, they'll get really defensive."

"Where does this come in with Greyback?"

"Because everyone 'knew' the werewolf pack was bad news and Greyback was thrown in Azkaban with the key tossed out for perfectly good reasons - "

"They were perfectly good reasons! He's a murderer!"

" - but now they feel like they're smarter, that they've understood some deeper truth. When the person starts out bad, the gossip's always making him good. And they're not going to believe something that makes them feel duped again."

"But she's the one who..." Teddy slammed his fist on the table and stood up to start pacing. "They'll listen."

"To Harry Potter's godson?"

"He's Harry Potter!"

"But they know better now. He was a hero. Now he's an over-zealous Auror, at best, and Ron Weasley - and they'll all know who she meant - tears screaming children away from their innocent caretakers. They've wised up. And you're all wrapped up in that. Unless you've got more than a dead cat and a note, they won't care. If you have anything about what he did to your father..."

"I didn't exactly witness that, either," Teddy said dully.

"Did Vivian Waters?"

He looked down. "I'll talk to her. Will you wait? And if I get her to talk to you, will you be nice?"

She raised an eyebrow. "I think I can beat Mathilde Dubois at this."

"Seeing that you have truth on your side..."

"Oh. Right. I'm sure that will help, too."

Teddy looked at her with deep misgivings, wishing he'd thought twice before approaching her. She'd got kicked off the paper she'd started for being a vicious little gossip. Still, if she wanted to get back onto it, she'd have to impress Slughorn, and Slughorn wouldn't let her slur war heroes.

He nodded, and went upstairs to get his winter cloak. The Marauder's Map told him that Vivian was going into Hagrid's hut, with Hagrid and Professor Longbottom. He checked it carefully for any splashes of red, indicating danger, but there were none. He headed downstairs.

Ruthless was waiting by the portrait hole. "I noticed you had that determined look," she said. "Are you doing something?"

"Yes."

"Can I help?" She looked at him hopefully, and he wished there were something, just so he could let her know he was glad she wanted to, but there wasn't.

He shook his head. "I'm mostly an errand boy in it," he said.

"Exploding Snap when you get back?" she offered, with a tentative smile.

He returned it gratefully. "Sure. I could always use some of your money."

"You wish."

It was forced, but all right. He climbed through the portrait hole and scurried off onto the grounds. The evening was cold and there was a light dusting of snow on the ground. His feet left a dull brownish-green trail behind him.

It was deep dusk, and the sky was a glowing midnight blue. The mountains made sharp black shapes against it, and the lake stretched away like an abyss. The Forbidden Forest was fully dark, and Hagrid's cabin, at its edge, cast flickering firelight out into the shadows. As Teddy reached it, he could see the back of Vivian's head. She was gesticulating wildly. The window was closed, but he could hear her voice raised inside.

He knocked on the door.

"Who is it?" Hagrid grunted.

"Teddy Lupin."

"Yer call," he heard Hagrid say, and assumed he was talking to Vivian.

A moment later, the door swung open, and Vivian, the unscarred part of her face a livid shade of red, gave him a distracted greeting and went back to pacing. Teddy had imagined that she might be depressed or upset. He was glad to see that, instead, she appeared to be furious.

"Close the door, Teddy," Professor Longbottom said. "This is family business, not school business."

"It's apparently everybody's business," Vivian cut in. "The damned little" - she called Mathilde Dubois a name Teddy hadn't thought she knew - "and her stack of lies. Of course, she had to find time to tell one truth. I'm glad I never unpacked my bag."

"Yeh're not goin' anywhere," Hagrid said. "Dumbledore didn' let me go. Great man, Dumbledore. An' he shouldn' o' let Lupin go, but I reckon he had his reasons. An' I'm not lettin' you go. Reckon I need someone lookin' out for the grounds when I'm not here."

"I don't see where that's your choice."

"Yeh think I can't keep yeh here?"

Professor Longbottom smiled. "Hagrid, I don't think Vivian meant you couldn't force her to stay."

"Exactly. There are laws, and I'm breaking them. And if they let me out of it, everyone will know they're just playing favorites."

"What if everyone wants you to stay?" Teddy asked.

"Right. That's likely." She turned to him, looking apologetic. "I'm sorry, Teddy. The letters have already started to come. Professor Sprout didn't want me to see them, but I can see through the table. She'd got six of them before the end of lunch."

"So what?" Professor Longbottom said. "That's six. There could be six hundred - or six thousand - who don't want you to go."

"I didn't see any of those, and as Mademoiselle Dubois drew the battle lines, it's not like any potential supporters don't know."

"They don't know you," Teddy said. He bit his lip, feeling like he was trying to manipulate Vivian into doing something that he'd thought of, but he couldn't think of anything else. He didn't think the Prophet was going to send anyone, mostly because they obviously hadn't already. And Luna Scamander was off traveling again, so the Quibbler was a questionable contact. Honoria Higgs and the school paper were their best bet. "I was talking to Honoria Higgs," he said. He waited for Professor Longbottom to stop looking shocked, then went on. "She wants to try and undo what Mathilde Dubois did..."