Chapter 2
Benjy and Sturgis were sopping wet, disheveled, and laughing wholeheartedly when they came bursting into Emmaline Vance's family home.
Emmaline came running into the hallway with her wand pointed at them.
"What the hell happened to you?" she said.
"We got bored and decided to blow up an apothecary," Benjy answered, shrugging his good shoulder. His injury had gotten worse over the last twenty minutes. The flesh that remained on his bones was sickly green and very rigid, to the point where he could no longer move his arm at all. It also hurt a lot.
He wasn't about to admit it out loud, but he was starting to grow a little concerned. What if the damage was irreversible?
"Seriously," Emmaline rolled her eyes. "What happened?"
"There was an attempted robbery," Sturgis started to explain as he peeled off his cloak. "Don't worry, we took care of it—well, sort of. The bloke destroyed the shop and managed to get away… Do we have any essence of Dittany lying around? Benjy got hit with something. It smells like wet arse, doesn't it?"
"Oi, Remus!" Emmaline shouted over her shoulder. "This idiot needs tending."
Benjy watched as Remus Lupin came into the hallway from the sitting room, looking as though one knockback jinx might do him in. He was rail thin and his skin looked far too pale in the candlelight. He was smiling a little though, as if he found the situation funny but didn't want anyone to know.
"I was hit with a bunch of different potions when the bottles exploded. I think most of them were Sleekeazy's. I'm definitely not investing in their skincare products any time soon if this is the result," Benjy joked.
Remus stared at the disgusting, gaping hole in Benjy's arm.
He was young—definitely way too young to be fighting in the Order of the Phoenix, at least in Benjy's opinion. He had to only be a couple of years out of Hogwarts, nineteen or twenty at the most.
Dumbledore is losing his marbles, he thought, eying Remus Lupin again.
At least he was clever. It got him this far in the war and maybe it'd be enough to keep him alive.
"Come on," said the skinny, clever lad. "I can help."
"If you say so," Benjy replied with a half-cocked grin.
They made their way into the kitchen and Remus started rummaging inside a ratty old bag that should've been tossed in the rubbish bin years ago. He took out quite a few different concoctions, all in mismatched bottles and jars, and all labelled in very elegant handwriting.
Benjy read a few as Remus set them down on the counter side-by-side.
"Are you studying to become a Healer?" he wondered.
"Oh, no, I'm not… I'm just—er—" Remus hesitated for a moment, running his thumb over the cork seal of a blood-replenishing potion. "It's a subject that interests me, that's all. Here, give me your hand."
Benjy let Remus inspect the wound. The potions had completely eaten through the sleeve of his robes and done a number on his flesh too.
It was absolutely ghastly.
"This might sting a little," Remus said.
"Oh, it's already stinging like a right—" What exactly it stung like, Remus would never know. Benjy winced the moment the healing paste made contact with his bubbling skin and a string of colourful curses escaped his lips.
"Sorry," Remus said.
"I'm going to need to use a lot more, so I think I'm going to numb you if that's all right," Remus explained calmly, touching the tip of his wand to Benjy's wrist. There was a light tingle and then everything from his shoulder down went completely numb. The pain relief was instantaneous and absolutely wonderful. "Sorry, um, can you manage to take off your shirt? It'll be easier for me."
Benjy awkwardly shrugged out of his wet robes but the button-up shirt he wore underneath proved to be an impossible task while one-handed.
Without saying a word, Remus reached up and started to undo the buttons for him. He gently helped pull his injured arm through the mangled sleeve and Benjy was able to shrug out of the rest by himself.
It was only slightly awkward.
"Most men take me out on a date first before I let them take my clothes off," Benjy blurted out against his better judgment. He forgot sometimes that not everyone appreciated his humour the way Sturgis did.
Remus seemed to though, if that little smirk he was trying to hide was any indication.
"Sorry," Benjy said after a long stretch of silence. "I make stupid jokes when I'm anxious."
"It's all right," Remus replied simply, brushing a few strands of light brown hair from his eyes and leaning closer to inspect the ugly green blisters. "I'm worried this is more than I can handle. I'll do my best, but there might be some scarring."
"Oh, I don't mind a few scars, don't worry," Benjy assured him.
Benjy slumped down in one of the chairs at the kitchen table and let Remus work in silence for a while, letting the weight of the day wash over him. Merlin, he could use a drink right about now... or a good shag.
He glanced toward Remus again, unable to keep his thoughts to himself for much longer. Quiet wasn't exactly a word in his vocabulary.
"We really messed up tonight. I don't think Moody is going to let us on another patrol any time soon," he said.
"What happened?" Remus inquired.
Benjy recounted the story and didn't omit a single detail. Now that some time had passed, he was wondering if maybe they acted a little too rashly. What if they hadn't followed him into the Leaky Cauldron or down the cobblestone streets of Diagon Alley? Would he have hurt anyone? What if all he wanted was a healing paste? What if he was just scared and desperate?
"I'm sure that shopkeeper appreciates you being there for her though," Remus pointed out, cutting through Benjy's doubts.
"Yeah, I suppose," he said uncertainly. "Am I insane for wishing it was an actual Death Eater, not just some poor chap down on his luck?"
Remus actually laughed. It was soft and low, as though he was trying to restrain himself. "You sound like my mate Sirius. He's always looking for a reason to fight."
"Good lad," Benjy said with a grunt of mild discomfort. Remus was tightening the bandage around his injured arm.
"There we go," Remus said with a smile, clasping his hands together. "The numbness will subside in a few hours but it might take a bit longer for you to regain your strength and dexterity. If you're still experiencing pain or a lack of sensation by the morning, you might want to visit St. Mungo's. I'm not a professional by any means and that was a pretty intense burn."
"You did more than I could've," Benjy told him, using his good hand to help Remus pick up some of the bottles on the counter and put them back in his little medic kit. "Maybe you should've considered a career as a Healer after all."
"I don't think it's really for me," Remus shrugged.
Although Benjy wouldn't have minded speaking to Remus a while longer, the conversation ended rather abruptly when Emmaline, Sturgis and three other Order members came into the kitchen, looking rather serious.
Urgh.
Benjy couldn't help but cringe slightly when he noticed the scarred face of Alastar Moody—Mad-Eye—among them, his bright blue magical eye piercing right through him and into his soul.
Why did he feel like he was about to get detention and 50 points taken from Hufflepuff?
"Oh hello," Benjy said in a cheerful tone, offering Moody and the rest of them a big, stupid grin. "If this interrogation is going to last long, I think somebody should make some tea. Earl Grey would be lovely."
Out of the corner of his eye, he caught Remus smiling.
Benjy walked up the path to his mother's little stone cottage by the River Coln, a hefty brown paper bag under his bandaged arm and bright yellow flowers in his other hand. His injury from the other night still itched a lot, but otherwise, he was pretty satisfied with the way it was healing. The scar was still horrible to look at, don't get him wrong, but at least it was beginning to fade slightly.
He just didn't want his mum to see it and worry more than she had to.
She was a muggle, but that didn't mean she was oblivious. She subscribed to the Daily Prophet and received a copy by owl post every morning. She knew enough of what was going on in the magical world—and in her son's life—to be worried all the time nowadays.
So the arm was staying bandaged up for now.
"Hi, mum!" he shouted, allowing himself inside the house and kicking off his shoes by the front door.
"I'm in the kitchen!" she shouted back, followed by the distinct sound of pots and pans clanging together noisily.
Benjy waltzed into the kitchen and leaned down to plant a kiss on the tiny woman's cheek. It was a few minutes after noon but she was still in her nightgown and had bright pink rollers in her dark hair.
"Happy birthday Mum," he said.
"Oh, thank you, love!" she smiled and accepted the daisies. "You really didn't have to get me anything."
"Come off it," Benjy waved a hand, watching her rummage through the bottom cupboard by the fridge, where she kept a few vases for exactly this sort of occasion. She grabbed one made of crystal and filled it with water from the tap. "I've been a sorry excuse for a son lately. I figured it was the least I could do."
"Well, then, in that case," she beamed. "What's in the bag?"
"Oh, you're gonna love this!" Benjy told her cheerfully and started to empty its contents onto the dining table. "I got you pumpkin pasties, mint chocolate cauldron cakes, a limited edition variety pack of chocolate frogs... oh and not one, but two bottles of butterbeer straight from the Three Broomsticks in Hogsmeade!"
Abigail Wilberfoss (Fenwick was her ex's name) very much looked like a five-year-old in a magical candy store, a huge grin threatening to split her face in two. Besides the fact that she was a whole 52 centimetres shorter than her son, the resemblance she shared with him at that precise moment was uncanny.
"Try one of the chocolate frogs first. I wanna see who you get," Benjy suggested.
"Don't mind if I do," she replied, making a huge show of picking one at random from the large bag. She ripped open the glossy purple box with her fingernails and flipped the card over. "Silvio Astolfi. Who is he?"
"Absolutely no idea," Benjy admitted, peering over his mum's shoulder at the card. "Probably a Quidditch player by the looks of it. Hm. Not too bad, but I don't know if I fancy the mustache. There's probably info on the backside… of the card, I mean… not the bloke."
His mum turned it around and started to read.
"Best known for his international broom race from Aberdeen to Rome in 1754—" She skipped over a few boring parts. "—which culminated in the temporary destruction of the Colosseum. Wow. Really?! During the heated duel, Astolfi was transfigured into a chicken by his rival Torquil McTavish… Oh, I bloody love magic!"
"Me too," Benjy agreed.
"Speaking of magic. Did you see the Daily Prophet this morning?" his mum asked conversationally, although Benjy immediately noticed the slight edge to her voice.
Oh no.
He sucked a great deal of air through his teeth and leaned back in the chair. "No, I've been running around the shops all morning." There was a short pause as he considered his options. "What happened?" he finally dared to ask.
Who died? was what he really meant.
His mum leaned in across the table like she was about to deliver him the absolute juiciest of gossip on a silver platter. "They sacked the Magical Prime Minister."
"Oh, right, Minister Minchum," Benjy nodded and released an audible sigh of relief. "I did hear about that, yeah."
"Were you expecting something else?" his mum asked curiously.
"No, not specifically," Benjy told her honestly.
"Does it have anything to do with your missions?" she continued to pry, clearly not satisfied with the answer.
"Mum," Benjy shook his head. "I can't talk to you about those… just in case, you know? But I'm always careful, I promise."
"Love, I know when you're full of shit, you know that right?" his mom raised an eyebrow. "I raised you all by myself. I know exactly how careful you are, and it scares me half to death."
"I'm really sorry mum," Benjy sighed, reaching across the table and taking her hand in his. "I will tell you if I'm ever in actual trouble," he offered.
"Okay," she nodded. "So, are you staying for dinner? I was thinking of making roast beef, but if you have other plans—"
Benjy wasn't about to reject a dinner invitation from the best cook he'd ever had the pleasure of meeting.
"Of course, I'm staying! I'll even help you peel the potatoes, since it's your birthday and all," he said, rolling up his sleeves and taking his wand from the back pocket of his trousers. He gave it a fanciful twirl and colourful sparks burst from the tip like miniature fireworks.
His mother barely even noticed.
"Oi, what happened there?" she gestured instead to his bandaged arm.
"Oh," Benjy shrugged. "It was a little accident with a blemish blitzer. It's really not that bad, just a little burn. You know how bloody rotten I was at Potions."
His mum shook her head. She didn't believe him, not in the slightest, but she didn't ask any follow-up questions.
He really was a sorry excuse for a son.