Chapter 6: In which Professor Fairforest Finds Some Fantastic Beasts
[sorry it's taken me so long to update! My novel has been accepted for publication (!), so I've been doing an editing speedrun through it.]
What happened that night between Rosmerta and Firenze, I leave to the reader's imagination.
I saw Hagrid the next morning at breakfast. Every other day, they serve breakfast in the teacher's lounge, because sometimes seeing your students before breakfast is just too soon. In all the chaos, I'd completely forgotten that he'd been promoted to Care of Magical Creatures professor.
"Hey, Hagrid, how was your first day of teaching?" I asked, passing him the butter.
He burst into tears.
"That good, huh?" I said. I reached out awkwardly to pat his arm. "It's okay, it's normal for the first day to be awful."
"Yeh don't understand," he said. "Buckbeak hurt Malfoy."
"Good for him," I said. Hagrid had shown me the hippogriffs last week, but there were several of them, and I wasn't entirely sure which one was Buckbeak. "He's still alive, right? Malfoy, I mean."
"Yes," he said, dabbing at his eyes with an enormous handkerchief. "I tried to stop him. But he wouldn't listen. Now he's taken it up with his father."
"Oh no," I said. To say that Lucius Malfoy was a pain in the ass would be an understatement. "I'm sure Dumbledore won't fire you."
"I deserve to be sacked," he sniffed. "What if he'd died?"
"Well, he didn't, and that's the main thing," I said. "Now, tell me exactly what happened."
He gave a more detailed account of the events between great sobs.
"Don't let Malfoy fool you," said Poppy, sitting down beside us. "The bones were just bruised, not broken. I healed it up in about a minute. There's no reason for him to be wearing a cast and carrying on. It's just spite. And I made sure Dumbledore knows that."
"I don't think Dumbledore's ever fired anybody," I said. "Can't imagine you'd be the first."
"Its not me I'm worried about," said Hagrid. "It's Buckbeak. Malfoy swears he'll get the Ministry to execute him."
"What?" I said. "That's ridiculous. Don't y'all make these parents sign a waiver before having them hang out with dangerous creatures? They need a permission form for going to Hogsmeade, for crying out loud."
"You know, we really should look into that," said Poppy. "I'll ask Minerva."
So, after breakfast, we all crowded into McGonagall's office.
"Of course they have to sign a waiver," said McGonagall. "Hmm, let me take a look at it." She rummaged in her desk, pulled out a scroll and unrolled it with a flourish. It was about twenty feet long and filled with tiny writing. "Hmm…scorpion stings, venomous tentacula, blast-ended skrewts, death by Triwizard tournament—oh yes, here it is. Hippogriff-related injuries. Yes, they have to initial by that one saying they are responsible for bruisings, breakages, and loss of limbs."
"That's a little disturbing, not gonna lie," I said.
"But yes, I think you're right. With Poppy's evidence, and this, we should be able to show that the Malfoy's have waived any right to take legal action." She smiled. "I never thought I'd say this, but I'm looking forward to this meeting with Lucius."
I was doing some grading in my office between classes when Remus Lupin appeared in the doorway.
"Can I ask for your help with something?" he asked. Was he…flustered?
"Sure," I said, a little too eagerly.
"You see, Hagrid and I had talked about teaching a joint lesson, and under the circumstances I thought it might be best to do it sooner and, ehm, redirect the students' attention. And unicorns have a lot to do with defense against the dark arts. He's tied up with this Malfoy business, so I'm going to collect them for the lesson. Only it's a bit easier if—" he rubbed the back of his neck, clearly embarrassed. "You see, they're not all that fond of men, especially—that is to say, I think they'd like you better than they'd like me."
"Oh wild," I said. "So is all that medieval stuff about virgins true?"
"Ehm, partially," he said.
"Just outed myself as a virgin, didn't I?" I said. "Oh lord, I didn't mean to say that out loud." Well, nothing to do about that now, I thought.
He was definitely blushing now. "It's really just that they think women are more trustworthy in general. It doesn't really have anything to do with ehm, virginity."
Something in the way he said it hinted that I wasn't the only virgin in the library.
I laughed, although inside I was perishing of embarrassment. "Of course I'll come."
So, after having sufficiently recovered from that disaster of a conversation, and after classes were over, I met Lupin in the courtyard with the fountain. We set off towards the loosely-Forbidden Forest.
"So where exactly are we going?" I asked.
"There's an enchanted spring about twenty minutes' walk from here," he said. "It's one of the unicorns' gathering places."
"Oh, I think I came across it while exploring last year," I said as we made our way down the steps that led towards Hagrid's house. It occurred to me as we went that a pink star-spangled dress probably wasn't the best thing to wear on a hike, but I had on warm layers and sensible shoes (re: the many many stairs), so I wasn't too worried.
"Thanks again for coming, by the way," he said. "You're sure you don't mind?"
"Lupin. You had me at unicorns." It felt odd, saying his name out loud, even though it had been on my mind nonstop for the past few days. I wondered if I'd called him the wrong thing.
He looked over at me with a slight smile. "You know, you can call me Remus."
"Oh, okay," I said. We had reached the end of the step and were now heading down the big hill.
After an awkward pause. I added, "I do like your last name though." Oh lord, that sounded like I'd been trying it out on myself and seeing if it sounded good. Which I hadn't, until that moment, of course. "It's like the flowers," I said, as Lupin tripped over a loose rock.
"Flowers?" he said, in a strange voice, as he righted himself.
"You know, lupines. Do they have those here? They're lovely."
"I'm not sure," he said.
"They're big and tall, kind of like delphiniums—maybe not quite that tall. And they come in all different colors, but mostly blue—" lord I really was rambling now, but I soldiered on. "I learned about them in this children's book I read ages ago—Miss Rhumphius. She was a teacher, and she planted them—the lupines, I mean. And it was about how you don't have to do huge grand things to make a difference." I tucked a strand of hair behind my ear, feeling like I'd said far too much.
"Oh," he said softly. He reached out to briefly touch the standing stone that flanked the path, almost as if he needed it to steady himself, and then moved on. He said, "To me, "lupin" always meant 'wolf.'"
"Oh, like the Latin," I said brightly. "Wolves are great! My friend Artemis runs this wolf refuge in the Cairngorms for wolves that can't go back into the wild. I got to go visit her over break and pet the wolves! They're terrifying and huge. But so, so fluffy. I love them."
When I looked over at Lupin, his mouth was open.
"What?" I said. "Are there centaurs in the bushes?"
"No," he said, shaking himself slightly. "No, I just, was surprised that's all. Wolves are…dangerous." He was looking down at the ground, now, and I noticed how full his eyelashes were. Ridiculously nice, really. No man should have eyelashes that pretty.
"Of course they're dangerous," I said. "Although probably less dangerous than the average day at Hogwarts."
"True enough," he said ruefully. We were well into the trees, now. A light, cold wind was blowing off the lake.
"Speaking of which, you were going to tell me about the Patronus charm," I said.
"Right," he said. "Better yet, I can show you. Although it doesn't have quite the same effect without a dementor."
We paused in a clearing. "Well, just pretend that old stump over there is one," he said, getting out his wand.
I sat down on what looked like another standing stone to watch.
"Now," he said. "Dementors feed on human emotions. So to create a Patronus, what you do is you have to think of a memory that's stronger than just a fleeting emotion, a happy one. Although it doesn't have to be…happy, exactly. Something that can fill you up and give you strength."
"That's kind of a tall order," I said.
"It is," he said. "It's a difficult spell. Even experienced wizards have trouble with it. But once you're fully centered on the memory, you speak the words expecto patronum."
I ran this through my slightly rusty grad-school Latin. "I await a guardian?"
"Yes," he said, impressed.
"Grad's school's gotta be good for something," I said.
"I'll show you," he said.
I braced myself.
He turned towards the forest and closed his eyes. It felt strangely private, watching him conjure up a memory. Like maybe I should have looked away, but I couldn't. His face relaxed, almost as if he were asleep. When he opened his eyes, he looked years younger. His voice when he spoke was calm, confident. Expecto Patronum.
A bright bluish-white light burst from the end of his wand. I held my hand up to shield my eyes. The light took the form of an animal. It flew around, searching for trouble, and came back towards us. I could see what it was now—of all things, a wolf. I gave a cry of delight. The glowing wolf landed on the grass and trotted towards us. Instinctively, with absolutely zero thoughts in my head, I knelt down and held out a hand for it to sniff. The patronus-wolf wagged its tail and, to my surprise, nuzzled my hand with its nose. I scratched it tentatively behind its ears.
I can't explain what it felt like, except to compare it to those Bible stories where these lads are just chilling out with some strange traveler and mid-conversation are like "oh frick that's the Angel of the LORD." Its not a perfect analogy—theologically it's rather disastrous. But all I can say is that it both felt like a dog (an abnormally clean dog)—the fur was soft and thick and deep and the nose was cold and wet—but it also felt entirely other. I stared into the glowing, unearthly eyes of this creature and it promptly licked my face and sat down so I could give it more scritches.
After a few minutes I realized that Lupin was strangely silent. I looked up to find him staring at me and the eldritch creature openmouthed. "I—" words appeared to fail him. "I've never seen anyone do that before."
"You mean to tell me you haven't been giving this pup any love?" I said. The Patronus wolf leaned against me and whined happily.
"I…" He looked totally at a loss. "I don't understand," he said. "I've never even heard of this."
"What kind of stuff do they teach you in Defense Against the Dark Arts training?" I asked. "Come and pet him!"
I think he meant to kneel, but instead he sat down heavily on the grass. "Go see Remus," I said.
The patronus-wolf trotted happily over to him. He held out a shaking hand, and the wolf happily moved in for pets. I could tell he felt the same strange thrill when he touched its fur. And then as he petted him, he began to laugh helplessly. The wolf wagged his tail and barked and ran around in mad circles.
I'm not really sure how long it was that we stayed there playing with it, except that it was a good long while. It obviously was in grave need of affection. Then, when it had calmed down, it gave us a look, as if to say, call me when you need me and vanished.
We were now sprawled out in the grass next to each other, looking at the place where the eldritch critter had been. Even though we were in a forest full of magical monsters, I felt warm and safe and secure.
Remus laughed breathlessly. "This is mad," he said, brushing his long hair out of his eyes. "I'm going to have to rethink all my research. We might have to write a paper, if you can stand it."
"I'll try to resign myself to it," I said, leaning back on my hands, slowly becoming aware of the delicious scent of the damp grass and the cool breeze wafting through my hair and then through his. "Can I ask you something?"
"Of course," he said.
"What were you thinking of, when you cast the spell?"
"Ah," He drew his long legs up and wrapped his hands around his knees. He was silent for a bit before answering, and I worried it had been too personal of a question. Then he said, "I was thinking of the day I got my nickname. You see, I had never had friends before coming to Hogwarts. But James and Sirius—they didn't mind that. For a long time, I was afraid that…once they really got to know me, they wouldn't like me." He picked up a leaf from the ground and began twisting it. "It was just an ordinary day, really. We were out practicing Quidditch, and James said 'Oy, Moony, good catch!'" He shrugged. "I suppose it's a series of memories, really. I suppose that's what a name is. It doesn't seem like that much—but it meant the world to me."
"That's really sweet," I said. Which is one of those phrases that always feels accurate but never quite adequate.
After a moment, he said, "Well, we should keep going." He rose to his feet, and offered me a hand. I took it, savoring the contact like the repressed Victorian maiden I was, and got to my feet.
"So, do you think if I…keep a memory in my mind, like that, it'll help me, even without the spell?" I asked.
"It might," he said. "But I wish I could think of some kind of activating agent, something that makes the magic tangible." He reached out as if to grab the air with his hands, to illustrate. "That's what spells do, you know. They take the unseen forces at work in the world and make them visible, active."
"Oh," I said. "It's like the buffered self."
Remus gave me an inquiring look.
"It's lit theory stuff," I said. "This guy, Charles Taylor, talks about this concept of the buffered self versus the porous self. Basically, people now are buffered—they see the world as separate from their individual self. But he thinks that in ancient and medieval times, people didn't really see themselves as all that separate from the world around them—the natural world or the spiritual world. And that's why you have stories of like, gods interacting with people, and people turning into trees, and things like that."
"I see," he said, his eyes brightening. "Yes, that makes sense."
"And people with magic—or if you know about magic—you're kind of forced to be less buffered and more porous," I said. "Which is terrifying, really."
"Yes," he said. "Because things do tend to happen to you then."
The path was now winding alongside a small, rocky stream.
"Speaking of tangible magic, how exactly do you go about catching unicorns?" I asked.
"Well, you don't particularly catch them so much as you persuade them to do what you want," he said. "Somehow I don't think you'll have any trouble with it."
I laughed nervously.
"But basically you sit down and call to them. They like music, so it helps if you sing—although I've also brought a CD player if you'd rather not."
"So…how do you persuade them?"
"Well…" He scratched his head. "You'll see."
"I'm not sure I like the sound of that," I said.
"They won't hurt you," he said. "They're very gentle creatures. Which is not to say that they won't attack ever—they do have a giant horn after all, but even the Malfoy child would have to work hard to get hurt by them." Struck by that unpleasant thought, he said. "Blast. I hope he doesn't somehow manage to cause more trouble."
"Maybe you should put a body-bind hex on him," I said. "You know, for his own protection."
He pressed his lips into a thin line. "I might."
We rounded a corner in the path, and found ourselves at the spring. It looked like a small lake, with waterfalls pouring into it from the nearby cliffs. The water glowed blue and clear in the afternoon light.
To my surprise, Remus knelt down by the water's edge, scooped up some water in his hands, and drank it.
"What are you doing?" I said. "Do you want to die of dysentery?"
He laughed. "It's safe to drink. The unicorn horn keeps it pure. And it has magical properties."
"Such as?" I said, folding my arms. "Are you going to turn into a toad, or something?"
"No," he said. "It has healing properties." Sure enough, as I watched, some of the exhaustion that hung about him seemed to evaporate, the dark circles under his eyes beginning to fade.
"All right," I said cautiously. I knelt on the rocky edge of the pool, which is kind of rough on the knees, let me tell you, and scooped up some water in my hands—which isn't the easiest thing to do, as it turned out. It took a few tries, and I think more water ended up on me than in me. But it was deliciously cold and made me shiver all over. There's nothing really ladylike about it. It's very visceral.
"Wow," I gasped, wiping my mouth with my hand as I turned back towards him. I could feel his eyes me in that moment. I wondered if I looked any different. I was beginning to feel different—like the feeling you get when the coffee hits just right in the morning, except without the crash.
Then I turned to face the woods. "So are you going to do anything while I summon the unicorns, or are you just gonna stand there and look pretty?"
"Ah…" He shrugged, and I was gratified to see I'd made him blush. "I—I'll help later on."
So, I found a comfortable-looking rock to sit on and cast about for something to sing. I don't know why, but singing by yourself unaccompanied is one of the most awkward experiences on God's green earth. I rejected several possibilities, including "Ziggy Stardust," which had been stuck in my head since yesterday. I think if Bowie sang it (or anything, really) he could probably summon unicorns, but it's a little hard to replicate. "Let All Mortal Flesh Keep Silence" was definitely a banger, but somehow didn't seem quite right either. I felt like I needed something a little more pagan and old feeling. I cast about for folk songs, but all I could think of was "Billy Taylor."
And then I remembered a weird little new song I'd learned when I'd accidentally stumbled across a musician recording in a nature preserve. Hesitantly, I began to sing:
Lay your head where my heart used to be
Hold the earth above me
I didn't have the nerve to look at Remus.
Lay down in the green grass
Remember when you loved me.
There was a flash of white at the very edge of the clearing. I took a deep breath and kept going.
Come closer don't be shy
Stand beneath the rainy sky—
And there they were. Unicorns. Real live unicorns. I had seen them from a distance before, but never up close. My singing got a lot more shaky after that cause it was kind of hard to breathe. They were so terrifyingly beautiful.
They are also very quiet. One of them approached me. I stood very still. People often think of unicorns as petite and delicate but these were full sized horses. Horses are big. You don't realize how big they are until they have a big sharp horn on their head and they are coming straight for you. I kept singing, and cautiously put out one trembling hand and touched its velvety soft nose. It nickered, and seemed content. I petted it gingerly, and could feel an awed smile spreading over my face. "Hello," I said. The unicorn moved in closer, looking happy. I fished in my pocket and pulled out some sugar cubes, and held them out, making sure my hand was very flat. As it turns out, unicorns like sugar cubes just as much as other horses.
"So…what do I do now?" I said, glancing at Remus.
"Touch its horn," he said.
"That doesn't sound like a good idea at all," I said.
"Its how they communicate," he said. "And, ehm, put in a good word for me, if you don't mind."
I looked over and saw that three other unicorns had surrounded him in a decidedly more threatening manner. "Oh. My. Okay. Um…" I reached out and touched the horn near the base.
I'm not sure I can fully explain what happened next, except to say that it was one of the more bizarre experiences in my very bizarre life. It was kind of like telepathic communication—I could sense the creature questioning me, and there was an image of myself and then Remus as seen through its eyes. I called to mind our reasons for being here as best I could—the class, the hippogriff, Hagrid, the paddock near the school, with an emphasis on it being temporary. I felt the creature questioning me again, with an image of Lupin. Danger? For some reason the memory that came immediately to mind was the feel of his hand pressed against my forehead, seeing if I was all right, the tension leaving my body. This seemed to satisfy the unicorn, at least to the point of not having him impaled on sight. It showed me memories of the children before, with an air of cautious affection. Come along.
I moved my hand away from the horn. "Thank you," I said. "Its very kind of you."
We moved back to the castle in a strange parade, walking alongside the unicorns.
Song credit: "Green Grass" by Cosmo Sheldrake
And I looked at him sitting there in the grass my brain turned entirely to mush and could not think about anything but his lovely soft hair and soft eyes and soft lips.
"Hold on," he said, "You're losing your flowers." He reached into the grass
He fell silent for a few moments, and then said, "it seems to have had quite an impact on you."
"The book? I guess so—I never really thought of it that way," I said. "I sort of stumbled into teaching. I didn't have big ideals of trying to make the world better or anything like that.
-you know, it also means
"I've got to go see the unicorns in the Forbidden Forest this afternoon. Would you—would you like to come with me?"
Was he…flustered? Surely not.
"Absolutely," I said. "When should I meet you?"