Chapter 3: Magic's Decree
:
The sconces in the conference room suddenly extinguished. Darkness mostly encompassed everything and everyone.
Not every light…
The only illumination came from the now softly-glowing ritual robes – and Andromeda Tonk's eyes.
For Saul, realization of what was happening transformed his face into an expression of awe. With only a moment's worth of insight, he swept his arm in an arc.
"Everyone! Put on your robes! Anyone looking at Andromeda, look at the floor!"
Dressed in a classical gossamer Grecian gown that did nothing but glorify her underlying nakedness and feminine form, a torch in each hand and circlet of keys tied at her waist, Saul reverentially cast his gaze to the polished oaken floorboards. Folded neatly at his feet, his ritual robe materialized.
Not-Andromeda glided elegantly out of a door that never opened.
"Quickly, now. We all need to get to the Ritual Room as fast as possible."
Giles, his fingers at the fastenings of his robe, dared to ask a question. "The Room is ready, but none of us have done our personal cleansings."
Saul croaked for a moment, until he cleared his throat.
"We won't need to... Hecate is here."
:
Silently, the group of twelve witches and wizards filed into the Ritual Chamber.
As each took their places in the Circle, Hecate-Andromeda pointed her torches at where he or she now stood. Alternating, Her left torch pointed to wizards, Her right torch pointed to the witches. The glyphs at each of their feet now shone with a flickering of orange, blue and white – all the colors of fire.
As one, the twelve dropped to one knee and bowed his and her head.
"Be at Peace. You all have pleased Me."
A series of moderate thrills thrummed the length and breadth of his magic. His faith, the way he practices his craft, and how he comports himself in his day-to-day life… Croaker only hoped that the others were experiencing the same sensations that Her approval had brought to him.
With plenty of light as to see properly in the Room, his gaze on the polished granite at his feet, Saul reflection-watched as the two torches separated from Her hands and moved to float on either side of Her.
The Goddess of Crossroads, indeed.
In one fluid movement, She extended Her left arm flat and Her palm downward, She waved it once across her body, right-to-left.
In the center of the Circle, a form appeared. It was of a very large dog. Its fur was in deplorable condition, and it looked thoroughly starved. It cowered for moment before…understanding… prompted it to press its belly to the floor and crawl forward on all four limbs towards Her.
She crouched, once he was near enough. She looked in his eyes, pleased that, though deferential, the animal was not fearful.
"I have need of you. Not as you now are, but as you were meant to be, My Grim."
She stroked the length of him with Her right hand and then Her left. Saul soaked it in, the way she wielded both witchcraft with Her right hand and wizardry with Her left hand. Female to give him re-birth that only a female could facilitate and left to honor the glory of being male. Where her hands carded and glided, his fur became thick and glossy. His various sores and blemishes vanished and were replaced with robustly healthy skin and follicles. Her fingers nestled between his sharply defined ribs. It took a moment, but then flesh and muscles strengthened and filled-in the gaps in his rib cage. The limp in his rear-right leg healed. Where witchcraft and wizardry met, in his ability to help create life, she cradled first his pelvis and then his testicles. His ragged right ear became whole and smooth. The smell of…abuse…no longer emanated from the beast. With every movement of Her hands along every aspect of his body, he became an even larger and an outstandingly healthy example of what a wizard-Grim should be.
"I am sorry that you have suffered so. You have languished in abject cruelty for far too long. It was not enough to See her commit her crimes. I had to wait for her to speak of her crimes before I could intercede. Even I have rules that I am mandated to follow."
On his haunches, with care and reverence, he slowly licked her palm.
With one more cradling of his head, Her right palm on his crown, thumb between his eyes, and Her left under his powerful jaws, his eyes glowed like bright embers. Sirius Black, now deemed 'ready', shook himself nose to tail. She smiled benevolently as he took his place at Her left-side.
Now standing, She Summoned Molly Weasley to the Circle.
The witch moved quickly to right herself, instantaneously standing where she was once seated, lest she fall to the floor. She sputtered as she recognized that her surroundings had suddenly changed. She whipped her head from side-to-side, then turning front-to-back, clearly not recognizing where she was or whom she was with.
"Who are you? Why have I been brought here? What brought me here!? I haven't touched anything, so I know that ruddy wizard Croaker didn't slip me a Portley…"
That would be something that Croaker would absolutely do! He had to give her a modicum of credit – the witch had a talent for reading people.
With a twist of her right hand, Celeste brought Molly to her knees and forcibly bowed her head.
"Thank you, My Child,' Hecate-Andromeda smiled at Celeste, whose skin and hair immediately glowed as softly as her Ritual robe, before returning to normal. "You, too, have been Healed."
To Molly Weasley, She intoned, "You, however, are no Child of mine. I am the Goddess of Magic. I am not the Bringer of Magic."
Try as she might, Saul could see that Molly could see where she struggled – and failed – the straighten her neck.
"With such Authority, I will bring Judgement down upon you, Molly Weasley." Arms now fully extended then lifted, her palms up – as if she were raising something – a ghostly image formed on the reflective floor, which they all were able to watch. "Let us See what you've done and hear what you were thinking when you did it…"
:
A knock sounded at her kitchen door.
"Coming! Coming!"
She swung open the door.
"Ahhh, Molly, I was hoping that I would catch you at home. I had fire-called you earlier, but no one answered."
"Well, don't just stand there. Come in! It's cold outside."
"Well, it is February, after all. It's supposed to be cold."
Albus Dumbledore smiled indulgently at the image she knew she made with an infant wrapped around her waist. Young Ginerva was only seven-months-old but was an absolute delight as she was the only girl after six boys.
"This one," she bounced the little girl playfully, causing Ginny to giggle, "is cutting a tooth and needed a remedy."
The cauldron on her prep counter was still cooling where it stood nestled on its prop-stand. Potion stirring rods, measuring implements, and her set of scales stood stacked with her morning dishes in her dish drain.
"I hope everything is all right with Bill?"
"No, no, everyone is right-as-rain, as the Muggles say." Dumbledore was quick to reassure her that her eldest child, now in his first year at Hogwarts, was doing well. "He has adjusted quite admirably, especially when compared to his other year-mates. He's proving to be quite a leader."
"The boy is a Prewitt – of course he will be outstanding!" Pride in her father's family radiated off of her. "I'm convinced that, by the time he's in his final year, he'll be Head Boy."
She may have said it light-heartedly, but she'd meant it – and Dumbledore acknowledged her thinly-veiled request with a single incline of his head.
"So noted."
Winter cloak now shed and hanging from the coat tree, he took a seat at her table. A covered dish showcased a platter of breakfast bread.
She answered his questioning glance even as he lifted the lid and helped himself. "Banana bread; I've found that the children do better with more potassium in their diets."
"Good to know." He hmmm'ed his appreciation. "I'll have to trouble you for the recipe to pass along to the kitchen elves, Molly. This is delicious. The children will definitely enjoy eating this."
"The secret to making the best banana bread is toasting the walnuts, then letting them cool before adding them to the batter. It makes ALL the difference! Believe me – I've tried several variations before settling on that one."
"You are always so good in the kitchen, my dear."
"I have nine mouths to help feed! I must be good at…something…to supplement Arthur's pitiful salary."
Self-praise never needed to be acknowledged.
"Speaking of being good at something…" She turned, pulled her wand from the pocket of her housedress, and opened a locked lower-corner cupboard. Bent in half, her voice was slightly muffled as she pulled out a series of vials from the depths.
"Speaking of… Here it is. There are three vials of the potion and three doses of the antidote. Each is clearly labelled. As you can see, there are also different colored waxes on the stoppers. I know you wanted it last month, but I had a devil of a time sorting out the resulting interactions. It wasn't until I had the inspiration to use Boswellia extract, as a pain-reliever, that the Draft of Forgetfulness finally interlocked with the Compulsion Potion. There was nothing I could do to correct the subsequent dizziness, though. Making each a triple-strength dose posed many challenges, Albus."
"Yes, quite. I will pay special attention to that, Molly. I can see why my faith in you is justified, my dear. Splendid work as always. I have a member of the Order who is not…adjusting…to peacetime. He keeps…dredging…up events that cannot be undone. This will certainly help him, Molly."
"A Draft of Forgetfulness is both a blessing and a curse, Albus."
"As is the ability to know the difference."
She bowed at the neck at their unspoken ability to be creator of the blessing, the blessing bestower and to endure the curse of remembering.
To the front of the cooling box, a series of papers depicting childish scribbles – ostensibly from toddlers Fred, George, and the slightly older Percy – and vaguely more sophisticated attempts at drawing were tacked.
"May I have one? Perhaps one done by Fred or George?"
Pleased-as-punch, she unstuck one and passed it to him.
Carefully rolling it, he stashed it in an inside compartment of his brightly embroidered robe.
The tableau faded.
"Let Us see what you had facilitated…"
Eyes now seeing his Ritual team, Molly Weasley, the Grim, and Hecate-Andromeda's commanding presence, Croaker erased any notions as to what he would See and See next.
A small seaside cottage on a scrap of unwanted coastline clad in unremarkable shutters endured a brutal onshore breeze.
A nearly twenty-two-year-old Remus Lupin had just poured himself a cup of tea when his fireplace alerted him that someone was trying to reach him.
Crossing to the mantlepiece in the lounge, he knelt and answered the call.
Dumbledore – again.
"Ah – Remus! You're at home. Good, good, very good. Is it alright if I come through?"
"Are you going to finally answer my questions as to where Harry is and why you won't tell me?"
"I have something, which I am most certainly glad to share with you."
Appeased for the moment, Remus stood and stepped back as the cold ashes in the grate suddenly combusted into green flames.
A very tall and thin Dumbledore climbed out of the fireplace and stepped into the lounge.
"Might as well follow me into the kitchen. It's the warmest place in the house."
Dumble chuckled wryly and subtly alluded to his long life. "Usually always is – irrespective of the era."
At the table, he took the seat that Remus indicated as werewolf busied himself by creating a cup of tea for Albus.
Accepting his cup of tea with a gracious, 'cheers', he'd only taken a sip when Remus started-in.
"About Harry, Albus…"
"Yes, I agree. I think that this is a very good time to do this, Remus." He set down his teacup. Reaching into the inside pocket of his winter cloak, Albus withdrew a narrow scroll.
"Once you've opened this, I know you'll be relieved."
"We'll see. You've really made me question you since you've denied me access to Harry since November of last year. Pinning you down has been nigh impossible."
Eyes on his teacup, he never saw Albus slip his hand into the outer pocket of his robe and grasp his wand nor see the Headmaster of Hogwarts cause a commotion in the WC.
Rising from the table, Remus was truly vexed by what he'd had heard. "Best go see what happened."
"I'll be here, my boy. I'm not going anywhere, as of yet."
No sooner had Remus left the room, then Albus retrieved one of the vials he'd collected from Molly, broken the seal, and emptied the contents into Remus' cup.
Tucking the empty glass vial back into the same pocket, he watched as Remus strode back into the room.
"Everything okay?'
"Blasted shutter must've banged itself loose. Cardigan Bay is scenic, but winters on the Irish Sea are no joke. It's easy to see why so many ships have run-aground since time immemorial."
"You should be a teacher, Remus. You know that I have always said that to you."
"I couldn't get hired to teach ducks to swim, Albus. You know this."
"I'm sure that the right employer, at the right time, would be glad to add your name to the staff."
Sealing his 'prediction' with a sip of tea, he grimaced.
"What's wrong?'
Albus set down his cup. "It seems as if my tea has gone off."
Hands in his lap once more, it was an easy bit of business to slide his hand back into his cloak pocket and re-grip the Elder wand.
Remus took a hesitant sip. He, too, pulled a face. "I don't know how this has happened, Albus."
"You know Remus," he tightened his grip of the wand, "It's really not so bad. You should finish your tea."
Compulsion in-play, albeit tenuously hence the additional potion-support, Remus had no choice but to finish his spiked tea.
"You will remember, Remus Lupin, that you and I had a cup of tea that was off-putting, so you dumped our cups and promptly washed them.'
Remus rose from the table and then crossed to the sink, taking the cups with him. Diligently, he washed them and then set them aside to dry.
"You will have turned, looked at me; you will remember that we talked about Harry and agreed that you were better off not knowing his whereabouts, as his safety would be put at risk. I then gave you this," he unfurled the scroll and slid towards Remus' side of the table, "and told you it was drawn by Harry."
Deeds done, Albus, too, rose from the table.
"Since you are feeling woozy," Albus continued his soothing tone. Remus swayed where he stood, catching himself with a well-timed hand on the kitchen counter. "You should go and lie down, Remus. I followed you, made sure you were as comfortable as you could be. Then, I departed."
Pleased with the outcome and only having told only one outright lie amongst a sea of double-entendres, he considered the matter closed. Having never taken off his cloak, Albus left the ailing werewolf in his Welsh cottage, convinced that the Remus was right about one thing…
February in Wales was, indeed, no joke.
:
:
:
:
Author's Note:
Has anyone ever been stumped as to WHY Remus would NEVER have pursued Harry? Since himself, James, Sirius, and Peter were so close, and with James and Lily dead, and Sirius murdering Peter, I would think that NOTHING would have stopped Remus from being a part of Harry's life. This was one of the ideas as to how this happened.
What is yours?