Chapter 86: Veritas Odit Moras*
5 May 1980
Galloway Forest, Scotland
Leaving John and Red meant leaving comfort. No more inns and coffee shops. No more paved roads or signs to follow. When the search for the next pack in Scotland began, it began on foot, and Hermione and Remus walked. The start of it was quick feet, a brisk pace and muscles poised for anything to jump out at them. Hermione had to switch wand hands just to flex some blood back into her fingers. They were on edge, but they still weren't in the thick of it yet. When they stopped for lunch, they pulled out fresh, hefty sandwiches made by John. It was a good meal and they tried not to think about what they'd eat for dinner.
The afternoon turned slow. They lumbered over fallen trees, around ditches and through patches of mud. They were looser. The edge was still there, but it shifted. The worry wasn't about what was going to happen to them, but what they were going to do. They couldn't walk forever. So, they stopped at the next clearing they found.
"A tent?"
"Remus, we're in the middle of the woods. What did you expect?"
"Not for you to pull out a bloody tent, that's for sure." Remus peaks his head inside, a whistle echoing through the hidden expanse. "If I'd known you had this in that bag, I'd have made us stop hours ago."
"Have a look around." Hermione smiled and shook her head. "I'll set up some wards and then we can relax for a bit."
Remus pulled his head out. "There's three beds in there."
Hermione stumbled. There was three of everything in the tent. Beds, towels, plates, spoons, cups, pillows.
"You've been planning this for a while, haven't you?"
"Longer than you know."
She kept walking to the edge of the clearing, pulling herself behind a tree. Hermione leaned her head back against the bark and imagined another time, another quest, another life.
May 1980
Galloway Forest, Scotland
Having spent most of their formative years in an ancient castle and at least one night a week in the woods, neither Hermione or Remus would count themselves as city kids, but camping in the forests of Scotland was a trial in itself. Everything was uncomfortable to a degree. It was either too cold, too warm, too dry, too sticky. When Hermione cooked, Remus complained. When Remus cooked, Hermione complained. The tent was too big and too small, defying physics more than its own existence. If Hermione called to Remus from another room of the tent, he couldn't hear her at all, but they found themselves practically on top of each other if they were in the same space. They'd lived together for years now, but the tent changed things.
They spent their days walking, trying to catch the scent of other werewolves. There were inklings here and there, some frustration-driven mistakes, and one mutually embarrassing day spent howling at the sky to no avail. In the evenings, they'd pull out the tent again. Hermione set up wards, while Remus foraged for food, rationing what they had and trying to make it last as long as possible.
"Repello Muggletum."
Hands out and brow furrowed, Hermione cast her litany of spells, warding off muggles and protecting their space, cursing herself all the while for not spending more time studying protective charms.
"Protego Totalum."
Merlin, but she couldn't help but think of Ron and Harry in these moments. When she stepped away from Remus, she could almost see them, hear them. She could picture them poured over the meager notes they'd gathered or slumped beneath a tree taking a moments rest. It wasn't that she purposefully compared the two of them to Remus and even Sirius, but in these moments she couldn't help it. She couldn't help but compare how Remus took to camping to what she'd have expected from Ron and Harry. She couldn't help but compare her current mission and the horcrux hunt, her mind wincing a bit as the darkness reentered her mind. She hadn't thought of horcruxes in ages. She could see now there was a tendency for Dumbledore to send people off on wild chases with little to no information. Here, now, at least she and Remus had had a place to start, a starting thread to chase other leads.
"Salvio hexia."
Hermione dropped her arms and closed her eyes. Years away, how were her boys faring?
"So, I've been thinking," Remus started.
"Have you?" Hermione's lip twitched.
"Cheeky." Remus rolled his eyes. "No, but I've been thinking maybe we should start dueling each other. I mean, we won't be on this hunt forever, and honestly who knows what we'll walk into out here or-or when we get back home. I just think we should brush up on our skills, you know?"
"That's actually not a bad idea, a great one even. Start tomorrow? We can duel for a bit before we pack up camp."
"Tomorrow then." Remus nodded.
"Stop." Hermione threw up her hands. "Stop, stop, stop."
"What?" Remus dropped his shoulders but his wand arm stayed up. "Is there something wrong with my form?"
"Your form? What? No, Remus, your form is perfect. You know your form is perfect, but—"
"Then what's the problem? Come on, let's keep going."
"No. Stop."
Finally, he dropped his hands. Remus looked at Hermione expectantly.
"It's just—" She sighed. "Your form is perfect."
"Merlin, Hermione—"
"It's too perfect, okay? I mean, the only reason I'm still standing upright is because I know exactly what you're going to do the moment you decide to do it." She shifted her feet, moving her arm slightly in front of her body. "Protego." She moved again, angling her chest open but turned away, her arm now jutting out in front of her. "Stupefy." She relaxed her body. "And don't even get me started on expelliarmus."
"Okay," Remus shifted back on his heel, hand up in mock surrender. "If you're so clever then, show me how it's done."
Hermione nodded. She widened her stance, bounced on the tips of her toes and shook out her arms. "You're a better duelist than I am. I know that, but I also know your weaknesses." She moved quickly, her arm twisting out from below as a wordless disarming spell crossed her mind. Remus threw up a shield at the last second, the hesitation forcing him a step back. Hermione stepped forward.
"And that's my perfect form, right?" Remus smirked.
Hermione rolled her eyes. "It's your lack of experience in actual fighting." She crossed her left arm over her body, turning slightly as if to shield herself. She watched Remus' eyes alight at her movement and took a breath. The second he opened himself up, she spun back, a stinging hex aimed at his shoulder.
"Fuck," Remus grunted. Hermione took another step, then another.
"You have to be comfortable with imperfect because there's no room for that in a real fight. No one is going to bow and respect rules of combat." She repeated her motions and waited for Remus to catch on. This time he waited, watching her intently before throwing up another shield as he expected her to attack. The moment his shield was in place, Hermione shifted again. "Depulso."
The force against his shield pushed Remus back, legs bent into a squat to hold his footing. A frustrated growl bubbled up from his chest, but Hermione was already moving again. With Remus halfway to the ground, she took the last few steps to reach him. She grabbed the wrist of his wand arm still sticking out and pulled it to her side as she turned, her left arm coming down over Remus' arm and forcing him to his knees. He cried out as his arm twisted in Hermione's grasp. She pulled his wand out of his grip with no resistance, but she didn't let up on her hold.
"Okay," Remus wheezed. "I get it. Point made."
Hermione released him, stepping back and waiting for him to regain his composure. "Like I said, your form is perfect." She handed his wand back to him. "But I know how to fight."
Remus cleared his throat and nodded. He paced away from her, rubbing at his wrist before turning to face her again. He didn't raise his wand yet. "This is what you used to do with Regulus, right? Fight?"
"We didn't use wands, but essentially yes." She watched the movement of Remus' wrist. "I'm not a strong dueler. I never will be. But I know how to watch people's reactions and timings. I know how to pick my moment. And I know how to not get hit. Usually."
Remus was silent. He just watched at her for a moment before raising his wand arm, his left coming in closer to his chest, a change from his usual opening stance. "Okay. Again."
12 May 1980
Galloway Forest, Scotland
"Hermione!"
Hermione turned from the clothes she'd been refolding. It was time to move on and they were packing up. She was almost finished, but Remus' voice sounded urgent. A million possibilities sprouted from the dark corners of her mind, but when she emerged from the tent, Remus was just waiting for her, eyes wide and excited. He led her gaze with his own to the eagle poised at the edge of their camp. It just stood there, moving back and forth between its feet, beautiful, regal almost with intelligent eyes.
"Think it knows I almost went Ravenclaw?" Remus whispered beside her, amusement teasing at his voice.
A smile twitched on Hermione's face. There was something about this bird. She cocked her head and stepped forward, muscles moving slowly as if to dampen their invisible sound. The eagle turned. Hermione froze. The wards around their camp weren't totally ineffective against animals, but they were geared toward humans. The eagle stepped forward, beady eyes now fixed on Hermione like it could really see her. No. The bird tucked its head beneath a wing into an unreachable place, and when it returned, it held in its beak a bundle. No. Not now. The eagle hop-stepped over to Hermione, Remus watching beside her in bemused fascination. It approached her, swiftly, confidently, and dropped the bundle at her feet. Branches, fir by the look of it, wrapped tightly in a black belt. The eagle blinked up at her, but Hermione averted her gaze, turning to look instead at Remus.
She watched the rest play out on his face. The curiosity, amusement, a hint of confusion that grew and twisted into horror at the sound of a snap, and when Hermione looked down again, she already knew the eagle was dead.
"What the fuck was that?"
She couldn't help it. She bent down to inspect her gift. "I don't know." She pulled out her wand, casting it over the sticks and bird, but there was nothing left to find.
"You don't know? Hermione, it-it looked at you."
She reached out to touch the branches, her thumb catching on the belt cinched around. She picked it up, turned it over. There was no note. No note, but she knew anyway.
"Hermione."
"Wait." She pulled open the belt, spreading the branches like a deck of cards. He always left a message. What was the message?
"Hermione."
"Just-just wait a second." Fir branches, a black belt, what did it mean? She closed her eyes. Come on, think, Hermione.She opened her eyes, blinking down at the branches. One, two, five, ten, fifteen, sixteen, seventeen, eighteen, nineteen.Nineteen. Nineteen branches.
"What? Hermione, what is going on?"
A glint of gold from the foliage on the ground. Hermione dug around, dirt cramming under her fingernails until she grasped a small gold coin in her hand. It was roughly the size of a galleon but crudely made, all uneven edges and divets. One side was flatter than the other, sanded down until two words could be engraved on top.
Привет Птичка.
It was written in Russian, clearly, and she had no idea what it said, but somewhere in the back of her mind Regulus' voice came to her. A.D. says hello. She closed her eyes and ran the pad of her fingers over the letters. She couldn't feel any magic to this coin. Dolohov hadn't found a way to replicate, only to remind. He'd wanted one though, for himself, to talk to her. He'd told her that night in the Shrieking Shack when they'd celebrated—
"What day is it?" She asked but she already knew. Nineteen branches.
"Fuck, it's May, right? The-the twelfth, I think? If we left on the seventh…" Remus kept talking, but Hermione had already stopped listening.
Nineteen branches for nineteen years. She sat back on her heels. He would have been nineteen today.
"What is going on? Pup, seriously, talk to me."
She shoved the branches into the beaded bag at her hip. "It's nothing. It probably picked this up from some hiker or something." For a moment she thought she could leave the coin behind. He could have tracked it. Hell, he could have cracked the enchantments. He was certainly creative enough. The smart thing would be to leave it behind, but she pocketed it before standing. Remus stared her dead in the face.
"A hiker?" He shook his head. "Don't tell me it's nothing. Your face is white and your hands are shaking."
Hermione gripped her traitorous hands together. "It's—"
"Fuck, you know something. Tell me." Remus groaned in frustration but the growl caught on Moony's teeth. It was just enough to give his command the edge it needed to pull at Hermione's words.
"I—" She tried to fight it, but she wanted what Moony wanted. Right now he wanted the truth, and she could give it. "It's from Dolohov."
"Who?"
"Antonin Dolohov." She sighed. "He's—he was a student at Hogwarts."
Remus' eyebrows shot up before furrowing down. "What? Wait, how do I not know that name?"
"He's younger, just a year, and he was, er, he was a Slytherin."
"Pup," Remus groaned again and ran his hand over his face. "Why is a kid Slytherin sending you a bunch of sticks and a bird that kills itself?"
Hermione breathed before answering. She'd caught Remus off guard with her answer so the question came untethered. She could lie again. "I ran into him a few times when I'd visit Ben. He's—well, I wouldn't say harmless, clearly, but he's not a danger to me." She fought against bringing a hand to her chest. "He just thinks in riddles and puzzles, and I think he thinks I'm one for him to solve."
Remus just stared at her. "You're not freaked out by this at all." Her lips twitched and it was all the answer Remus needed. He started to pace. "Fuckin' hell, Pup. This is weird shit. You see that, right?"
"I—"
He stopped suddenly and turned to her. "How did he even find us?"
"I don't know," she answered honestly. "I don't think he actually knows where we are. He probably doesn't even know I've left England. Things just-just show up."
"Things?" Remus stepped back and closed his eyes, taking a few deep breaths before looking at Hermione again. "So he's sent you things. This has happened before. Great. Great. Fan-fucking-tastic, Pup. What else has he sent you?"
"Just little trinkets mainly. I promise. Nothing bad or dangerous really."
"Does Sirius know about this?"
Hermione balks a bit. "I don't tell him everything."
"Well, clearly you don't tell me everything either."
"Remus," she started.
"No, it's—This was really weird, Hermione. Like psycho behavior, okay? When normal people send owls, the birds don't immediately snap their own necks. You can see that, right? Fuck, shit—I need to know you know this is weird."
"I know, but—No, I know." She averted her gaze, her bag feeling heavier at her side. "It's just not like that. He's-he's—" Merlin, how do you describe Antonin Dolohov? "I promise these gifts aren't dangerous. He doesn't mean any harm with them.
"Okay, well you may not be bothered by this, but I am. And I can guarantee you that Sirius would be reacting the same bloody way." Remus stuck his hands in his pockets and Hermione got a glimpse at her old professor. "The next time this happens Hermione, the next time he sends you something, you have to tell one of us. I don't care how innocent it seems, okay? You just—Fuck, you make it so hard to take care of you sometimes, you know that?"
"It's under control. I don't need you to take care of me, Remus."
"I know you don't need it," he shook his head. "But people, me included, care about you. And we want to take care of you. There's nothing you can do about it. Just—fuck. There's a war going on, Hermione. You can't be keeping secrets like this."
Hermione tensed her jaw but nodded. "I know."
"Do you?" He wouldn't let her break eye contact. "I know there's more to whatever the fuck this was."
"I know, Remus." She broke from him and looked at the twisted bird at their feet. "If he sends anything else, I'll tell you. I promise."
*Title Chapter Translation: The Truth Hated Delay