Ana səhifə

Chapter One – Grandmother Figg


Yüklə 1.26 Mb.
səhifə8/22
tarix24.06.2016
ölçüsü1.26 Mb.
1   ...   4   5   6   7   8   9   10   11   ...   22
Chapter 13 – The Daughter of Paravel

 On a fine clear morning after several days of really difficult training (training in which Hermione  finally mastered an inverted loop on her broom – while standing up),  Arabella suggested that Sirius and Remus give Harry, Hermione and Ron some time off for good behavior.  Sirius eyed Arabella suspiciously over the breakfast table.   He had a sense of urgency about completing their training and was not thrilled at the prospect of having his regime interrupted.  Arabella ignored the look, the raised eyebrows, and the sigh.  She tried to keep her voice light.  “I thought we might take the horses and ride to Godric’s Hollow.  Remember, Harry?  I promised I’d take you.”  Harry looked at Sirius, who nodded.  Sirius understood that until Harry knew more about his past, it would be difficult for him to fully embrace his future. 

 “Lovely!” said Arabella.  “I’ll have Hopkins pack us hampers of food and blankets.  We can ride to Godric’s Hollow right after breakfast, then picnic at the cliffs on the way home.” She paused, looking around to see how her plan was being received.  Harry looked pleased and excited, Hermione was eager as always.  Ron looked interested, but at the same time, uncomfortable.  Arabella suspected the source of his discomfort.  “Now, who has ever ridden before?” she smiled directly at Ron. 

 Just as Arabella suspected, not only had Ron never ridden before, he wasn’t terribly keen on horses.  However, to his everlasting credit and out of his growing regard for Arabella, he was willing to ride the wildest bronco they could find if that’s what she expected of him. 

 And so, neatly kitted out in casual riding attire and boots (conjured by Arabella), they met at the stables about a half and hour after breakfast.  Fortunately for everyone, Arabella’s stables were beautifully appointed and included some of the most exotic and well-trained horses they had ever encountered. There were Arabians, Andalusians, and a particularly fine Friesian stallion. Arabella soon sorted them out by size and “guestimated” ability.  In a twinkling, they were mounted and moving out across the park. 

 Hermione was delighted with her mount – a small bay Arabian mare.  The mare was sweet-tempered and responded automatically to Hermione’s every cue.  “She’s lovely, isn’t she?” Hermione breathed to Harry, who rode abreast on a large Andalusian gelding.  The gelding’s strides were long and swinging.  Harry adjusted quickly to the regular rhythm and soon felt quite comfortable and natural in the saddle. 

 Ron, however, had his hands full.  His gelding, another Andalusian, seemed determined from the start to keep Ron busy.   He wouldn’t keep a steady pace and so Ron was constantly trying to keep him from climbing the backs of the riders in front of him, or urging him to keep up with the rest of the group.  The gelding snatched at a particularly tempting mouthful of grass, nearly unseating Ron, “Oy!” Ron muttered, pulling his mount’s head around and thumping him awkwardly in the sides.  Unphased, the gelding plodded along, grass hanging out of his mouth like a green mustache.

 Realizing that Ron was having a less than pleasant first ride, Arabella suggested that they trot out a bit, hoping that the increase in pace would stop Ron’s gelding from its continued daydreaming.  Arabella urged her own mount, a large grey Arabian mare, forward into a nice working trot.  On cue, the other horses followed suit.  Hermione and Harry’s horses strode out smoothly so that it wasn’t necessary to post.  Ron, on the other hand, had a bone-jarring five minutes before Arabella eased everyone back to a walk.

 They soon left the park behind, crossing a stretch of open moor.   There was a small stream to be forded before swinging onto a dirt track that led into mature forest.  As they crossed a small footbridge, single file, Arabella said.  “Harry, we’ve now crossed onto your family’s ancestral lands.  Godric’s Hollow is just around the next turning.”

His heart began to beat wildly.  He wanted to see the place where he had been born, where his parents had been so happy – happy that was, until the dreadful October night, fourteen years past, when Voldemort had shattered all their dreams.  He heard Hermione’s voice in his head.  “Are you okay, Harry?” it whispered reassuringly.  He nodded. 

They came to a set of stone gateposts. The gate was pushed open and sagged on its hinges.  On one of the posts, a weathered sign read, “Godric’s Hollow”.   Below the writing was a carefully painted winged lion – a gryffon.  A thought struck Hermione, “Godric” as in “Godric Gryffindor”? she said to Arabella.  “Yes,” Arabella replied, turning in her saddle, “centuries ago, these lands were the home of Godric Gryffindor.  Now they belong to his descendants.”  She said no more, but urged her mare forward into a clearing.

Arabella dismounted, looping her mare’s reins around a low-hanging tree branch.  The others did the same.  Sirius and Remus walked to Arabella’s side.  Then Sirius said quietly, “C’mon Harry.  Let me show you around.  Harry stepped forward and Remus gripped his shoulder tightly.  Harry took a deep breath and stepped into the clearing.  The remains of a large house were up a gentle slope to his right.  It had been made of stone – ancient stone and in its day must have been quite charming.  Now, only two of the four outer walls were still standing.  A flowering vine had nearly covered them.  The remains of a flagstone path led to the old stone threshold.  The whole hollow was utterly and peacefully quiet. “Like an empty church” thought Hermione, and as a gesture of love and respect, she stooped to kiss the worn threshold, across which James Potter had once carried his beloved bride.  

Down the sloping lawn from the house were several ancient oaks – trees that long pre-dated James and Lily.  From one oak, there hung a swing – its ropes now frayed, its wooden seat grey with age.  “James hung that swing for Lily right after they were married.  You had just started using it yourself, Harry, before, well…before it all ended.”  Sirius said, a trifle hoarsely.  Harry said not a word, but reached for Hermione’s hand. He let her lead him to it.  He fingered the ropes gently, and then gave the empty swing a push.  His mother’s swing.  Images of James and Lily, laughing together in this beautiful hollow filled his mind’s eye.  He could see her laughing as his father gingerly gave a dark headed baby his first ride on a swing…”  It was too much.  Recovering himself, he took a deep breath and looked around.  His eye fell on an abandoned toy -  a small knight on the back of a rearing stallion.  In a flash of deja-vu, Harry had a startling memory of the toy, of playing with it outside in a garden.

He pocketed the toy, and then said to Hermione in a strained voice, “I remember a garden.  Let’s see if we can find it.”  “You’re right Harry,” said Arabella, when they asked her about it. “Your mother loved her garden.  She spent nearly all of her time outdoors, working among her plants and flowers.”  “And,” added Remus thoughtfully, “everywhere Lily went, you went too.  Lily never left you in the care of a nanny.  You were always with her, or with one of us.”  Sirius smiled, saying “You walked early and nearly drove all of us to distraction.  You got into just about everything.   When you were about ten months old, Lily had gotten you all dressed in special robes for some occasion or other.  I don’t remember what, but she asked me to watch you while she went to get dressed herself.  I turned my back for about three seconds and you had vanished.  You had managed to stroll out of the open front door and into the freshest nastiest mud puddle anyone had ever seen.  You were sitting in it, splashing, when I found you.  I thought Lily would kill me, but she didn’t.  She just scooped you up and packed you off to the bath.  She was a saint.” he said, shaking his head at the memory.

Arabella led them through an opening in a low stone wall and into the garden.  It was wild and overgrown, but in the mature trees and flowering shrubs, Harry could where his mother’s loving hand had been.  A small fountain splashed at the back.  “How is it that after all these years, the fountain still flows?” Hermione asked.  “It’s enchanted,” said Arabella simply.  “It was a fancy of Lily’s to have running water somewhere in her garden, so one evening, James conjured up this fountain for her.”  Harry walked toward the stone basin with its simple tiers.  He cupped his hands under the steady stream that splashed down into a large pool.  He drank deeply and felt, not sad, but peaceful.  It seemed to fill a place in him that had long been empty.

Now, he seemed able to ask, what he feared would be the hardest question, “Arabella, where are they buried?”  She took them out of the garden and down a winding path that led to a cliff-top above the sea.  Two solitary stones were silhouetted against the horizon.  Etched in black marble – marble now coated with the soft patina of time – were his parents names, their dates of birth and death.  He kneeled to trace the letters with his fingers.  Hermione drew two loosely tied bouquets of white lilies from within the sack slung over her shoulder.  Kneeling beside Harry, she laid the lilies at the base of each stone.

To Harry’s surprise, the graves had been carefully tended.  Flowers were planted here and there, and a small stone bench stood nearby.  “Who…?” he asked, unable to complete his sentence.  Arabella patted him on the back.  Dumbledore saw to the markers and the bench.  And I come up here to look after things when I have time.  Lately, Remus and Sirius have been the ones keeping things in order.”  Harry was stunned.  “I don’t know what to say…” he whispered, “Thank you for this…..for all this.” 

“Harry, it was the least we could do for your parents.” Sirius began, “You never knew them as we did, but if you had, you would understand that as their friends, we could do no less.  They were family to us when our own families treated us like outcasts.  Coming here makes me feel closer to them somehow.  I come here sometimes when I’m troubled.  In quiet reflection, I sometimes sense their presence – feel their guidance.  Their love, not just for each other and for you, but for all of us, consecrates this ground.  In spite of what happened here, there is no specter of violence about the place.  I’m sure Lily wouldn’t tolerate anything disrupting the peace she tried to create here – for all of us.  That’s true, even today.  Godric’s Hollow has become for us, a place not just for mourning, but for healing and mending too.  I hope you will always find it so.”

Harry could not answer.  Tears flowed freely.  He turned to Sirius and received a great hug from his godfather.  In the distance, one of the horses whinnied.  “I’d better go see what that’s about,” said Arabella, “Ron, will you come with me in case I need a hand?”  Ron cottoned on quickly and said, “Yeah, sure,” before giving Harry a squeeze on the shoulder and a reassuring smile.   Arabella and Ron moved off toward the horses, while Sirius and Remus returned to the house leaving Harry in Hermione’s care.

Remus and Sirius stood, once more, on the stone threshold of the house.  “Remus, do you know the real reason I declined Dumbledore’s offer to teach at Hogwarts?”  “No idea.” Remus said with curiosity. “Because,” said Sirius, becoming confidential, “I’m going to re-build this house before Christmas if it kills me…and you, too, come to think of it.”  “Me?” said Remus, one eyebrow raised.  “I can’t do it alone and I thought maybe you’d be willing to pitch in.  Arabella says we can stay at Paravel as long as it takes.  Afterwards, if Harry is willing, I thought we might all live here together.”  “A home” thought Remus to himself, “a real home with people he cared about in a place he loved.”  He smiled broadly at Sirius and extended his hand.  Sirius shook it warmly.  “But don’t tell Harry, yet, he said.  I want it to be a surprise.” Sirius cautioned.  “It’s a bargain.” said Remus conspiratorially.      

It was approaching noon when they mounted their horses and rode away from Godric’s Hollow.  Harry turned in his saddle for a last look.  “We’ll come back soon…” came Hermione’s whispered voice in his head.  He edged his gelding closer to Hermione’s little mare.  He reached across to her gloved hand and squeezed it.  “I thank God for you Hermione. I couldn’t have faced this without you.” he said quietly.  She looked at him, her face tender, her eyes bright with unshed tears.  “I love you, Harry” came the voice in his head, “It’s just that simple, I love you and I’ll always be here for you…always.”   

******

Arabella took them home by a different route.  They followed another track across the moor to some high cliffs above the sea.  At the edge of the cliffs, Arabella began pointing out odd looking groups of stones.  “Rune stones, she said, “left here by Vikings” When they came to a particularly large cluster of stones arranged in an irregular circle, she dismounted.  “Time for lunch.” she directed.  Obediently, they spread blankets and began to unpack the baskets full of food.  Hopkins had thought of everything.  There were bottomless piles of sandwiches, platters of fruit, and iced jugs of pumpkin juice and tea.  In another hamper, Ron discovered an abundance of small cakes and minced pies.  It was a spectacular feast and just what they needed.  After the gravity of the morning, they needed to laugh – to break with the melancholy and become themselves again.  They ate, then played wizard’s tag and blind man’s bluff.   After a particularly close call, in which Sirius nearly caught her, Hermione dropped on a blanket, exhausted.



Remus strolled over to one of the Rune stones to examine it more closely.  “Hermione,” he called, come see what you make of this.  You’ve been taking Ancient Runes, haven’t you?”  She got to her feet and walked to where he stood.  She bent to have a closer look.  She couldn’t be certain, of course, but the stones seemed to be re-telling a legend.  She studied each of them carefully – her face screwed up in concentration.  Ron and Harry watched her moving deliberately from one stone to another, then back again.  At last she stopped her pacing and said slowly, “I think it’s a story…”  “Close,” said Arabella, “It’s a prophecy.  Care to tell us what you think it says?” 

“Well, I’m not sure I have it exactly, but there’s something about an “untarnished goddess or sorceress” who uses her powers to give someone new life, but there’s another part I don’t understand, about a goddess from the sea.”  “Very good, Hermione, that’s quite close.” said Arabella in admiration. 

The prophecy tells of a time when a virgin sorceress with gifts from the sea will summon the Druidess Cliodna.  According to legend, the sorceress uses her powers to compel Cliodna to bestow her greatest gift – eternal life.  ‘And the sea shall grant each man new life…” said Arabella softly.  “Who is Cliodna?” Hermione asked, suspecting she already knew the answer.  “You’ve met her, Hermione.  It’s Clio.” 

Ron laughed, “A virgin sorceress with gifts from the sea….that could be you Hermione! Well, unless…” here Ron paused, his foot firmly in his mouth.  He had been about to say, “unless you aren’t a virgin anymore.”  Judging from the looks on Arabella, Sirius, and Remus’s faces, they were all wondering the same thing, but were unwilling to ask.  Only Harry and Hermione knew for sure. 

Hermione thought she would die of embarrassment.  She never imagined that she would be the object of such personal speculation.  Harry came immediately to her rescue. “You’re right, Ron”, Harry said firmly, “It is Hermione.  She’s clearly the virgin sorceress from the prophecy, and I’ll give you three guesses at who might be interested in eternal life…” 

Silence fell over the group, broken at last by Hermione.  “But how many people know about this prophecy?  What are the chances that Voldemort has been up here and read these stones?”  “He knows, Hermione.” Arabella said bitterly. “He tried once before to fulfill the prophecy, but without a sorceress.  He found a talented witch who was a daughter of Paravel – one who wore the Cadeau Du Mer, and through her, tried force Clio to make him immortal.  In the end, he failed because only a true sorceress can draw eternity from the sea.” 

“And who was that witch?” asked Harry, sure he already knew the answer.  “I was.” Arabella said after a pause.  “He put me under the imperius curse so that I would do his bidding.  It was Dumbledore who rescued me.  Voldemort swore revenge on us both for interfering in his plans.    That’s a large part of why I elected to have no relationship with my daughter and granddaughter.  Even if neither of them became a sorceress, Voldemort might still strike out at them because of his hatred for me.  He despises me because I failed to give him immortality through Cio, and because when we were at school - when he was still Tom Riddle, I rejected his advances in favor of another, older wizard.” Arabella’s voice trailed off.  She looked away.

 

“So that’s it then,” said Sirius, resigned.  “He’s after Hermione.  All your dreams have pointed to it, Harry.  If he gains control over Hermione, he’ll use her powers to force Clio into giving him eternal life.  He’ll have his revenge on Arabella as well, seeing as how Hermione is her granddaughter….”  Remus added, “And if he gets to rid himself of the Last Potter in the bargain, so much the better.” 



Ron looked at Harry.  His face was set in a determined sort of expression.  Ron turned his gaze to Hermione.  She didn’t seem to know where to look.  Her face had paled beneath her tan.  “So,” Ron began, “what exactly are we going to do about it?  You two” he gestured to Harry and Hermione, “don’t fancy hanging about like a couple of sitting ducks do you?  Let’s leave.  We can go to the Burrow, or maybe Dumbledore will let us come back to Hogwarts early…”     

“No,” said Hermione through clenched teeth.  “This is Voldemort we’re talking about.  He could eventually find us no matter where we went, and I don’t intend to spend the rest of my life looking over my shoulder.  I don’t want to play cat and mouse with him,” Her voice cracked, tears spilled from her eyes. “I want it to end.  I want it to be over for Harry, for me, for all of you...  This idea that he’s out there lurking is….intolerable.  Harry shouldn’t have to live with it anymore, and…..I won’t live with it, period. I’m just not that brave.  I can’t carry on day after day, like Lily did, knowing Voldemort could be at the door at any moment.  I can’t bear the idea of being snatched away from my children, as Lily was from Harry.”  She broke down completely.  “It has to stop, it has to be over…”  Harry held her tightly, her head buried in his chest.  Her shoulders shook with sobs. 

When Hermione recovered herself, Harry asked gently, “Do you know what you are saying?  If we were lucky and with help, we might be able to avoid him for years…”  “No Harry,” she cut him off, her voice had a steely note in it. “I can’t live like that.  What kind of life would we have together, knowing he was out there, biding his time…” she turned to Sirius, her chin set in a determined sort of way that Harry recognized.  Sirius tilted his head to one side and looked at her carefully, as if taking the measure of her.  It was as though he were seeing her for the first time.  “Alright, have it your way then. We won’t go looking for trouble, but we’ll figure out how to deal with it when it finds us.  It that agreeable to you Harry?...and you  Hermione?”   They looked at each other for a moment, reaching some unspoken understanding, and then simultaneously, they nodded at Sirius.  Ron looked on in amazement.  For a moment he could only goggle at Hermione.  Eventually, he reached up and patted her affectionately on the shoulder, “I’m proud of you, Hermione, mind you, I think you’re mental, but there it is…”

They rode in near silence back to Paravel.   When they reached the stables, Harry dismounted and went to Hermione and the little mare.  Hermione swung down and into Harry’s waiting arms.  “Appearances and discretion be dammed” he thought, and kissed her tenderly.  She seemed to draw strength from it, and smiled bravely.  “You know what this means don’t you?” she didn’t wait for him to answer, “You’re going to have to teach me to throw off the imperious curse…”



Chapter 15 - Voldemort

Over dinner, they began to make their plans.  Sirius agreed with Hermione – she would need to learn to fight the imperius curse.  They would begin the next day.  Ron suggested that they make a map of Paravel, similar to the Marauder’s Map of Hogwarts.  “I mean,” he said, “it would be dead useful to know who was in the house and where they were at any given time…” Remus agreed and told Ron that they could begin work on the map as soon as he was ready.  Sirius turned to Harry, “and you, I want you to learn not just to summon that Invisibility Cloak, but to conjure it.  Your being able to apparate instantly to Hermione’s side will do you no good if everyone can see you when you get there, understand?”  Harry did indeed, for he had been thinking the same thing himself.

After dinner, they drifted slowly in groups of two’s and three’s to the sitting room.  It was a cool evening, and Hopkins had lit a small fire.  Harry sat in one of the large armchairs, staring absently into the flames.  Hermione was on the floor by the fire.  She rested her head on Harry’s knee.  He stroked her hair soothingly.  Remus and Ron were at a nearby table, laying out the map of Paravel.  Sirius and Arabella were deep in conversation in the far corner of the room. 

Hermione was beginning to feel relaxed and sleepy.  She was just about to excuse herself for the evening, when she remembered something.  “Harry, what day is it?”  “Friday” he said.  “No,” she said, raising her head to look at him, “I mean what is the date, what day of the month is this?”  He told her.  She gasped, “Remus, tonight is the full moon.  You’ll need to take some of wolfsbane potion straightaway, before the moon rises.”  He made as if to go get some, but she rose to her feet hurriedly saying, “Its okay, I’ll get it for you.  You and Ron keep working.”  “I’ll go with you.” Harry said, rising. 

Together, they left the sitting room and descended to the lower floors of Paravel.  The dark narrow passageways that led to Remus and Hermione’s basement workroom were in stark contrast to the light airy floors above.  They reached a heavy wood and iron door, and Hermione swung it open.  Harry laughed out loud.  “It’s like a miniature version of the Potion’s dungeon.” 

In the center of the room, a large cauldron bubbled loudly.  The contents were smoking.  Hermione said, “I hope we’ve done this right, but just in case we haven’t, Arabella plans to lock Remus into a comfortable chamber down here as soon as the moon is up.  The chamber has peep in the door that will let her look through to see if he the potion has made him harmless or not.”  Harry nodded, “Sounds like a good idea and after all, it’s just for one night…”  Hermione didn’t seem to hear him.  She ladled up a goblet full of the steaming potion and set it carefully on her worktable.  She turned her back to Harry, and stared with unseeing eyes at a line of glimmering bottles on a shelf nearby.  “Shouldn’t we be taking this up to Remus before it cools off?”  Harry asked, trying to shake her from her reverie. 

Hermione didn’t turn around, but said quietly, “I’m going to let him take me, Harry.”  “What?” said Harry, not understanding.  She began again, her voice tremulous, “I’m going to let Wormtail take me to Voldemort.  You know as well as I do, that one night very soon, Wormtail will show up here and try to take me to Voldemort.  Well, I’m going to let him do it.”  “What are you saying?” Harry gasped in disbelief.  “Look Harry, let’s say Wormtail tries to take me and I just apparate away.  Then we’ll never know where Voldemort is hiding.  Hear me out.  If I let Wormtail take me to Voldemort, then you can use the Cadeau Du Mer to find me.  You can bring Remus, and Sirius, and Ron.  We can put an end to it all.”  “Hermione, no! You don’t know what Voldemort’s capable of, what if the Cadeau du Mer failed, or what if we didn’t reach you in time?”  “Do you have a better plan?” she said, calmly.

Harry took a deep breath.  He’d been thinking about something all afternoon, but wasn’t sure how to bring it up.  “Look, Hermione, Voldemort is coming after you because you are a virgin sorceress and therefore, especially potent for his purposes, but,” he paused, “who says you have to remain a virgin?  You know I love you…”

Hermione whirled around, her eyes flashing and full of tears.  “Don’t you think I haven’t thought of that?  I’m heartily sick of being a virgin sorceress, but I don’t want you to make love to me out of pity, or some misguided notion that you’d be doing it for my protection.”  “Hermione”, he said, taking both her hands in his, “it’s not like I’d be performing some public service by relieving you of your viginity.  I love you.” He smiled “I have wanted to be with you all summer.  It’s only because we agreed to wait until our training was finished that you are still a virgin anyway.  Me too, for that matter.”  “But Harry, don’t you remember what Sirius said?  It’s different for wizards.  The act is like a sacrament.  It has to be at the right time and for the right reasons - other wise our powers could be significantly diminished, and now is not the time to be handicapped in anyway.  If you…” she paused, this was hard for her, “If you made love to me…under duress, right now, that would certainly be, if not for the wrong reasons, for less than ideal ones.  You can’t risk your powers for me.”  He shook his head, “Under duress?  It’s not like someone is holding a gun to my head…”  “Not a gun, Harry, a wand, Voldemort’s wand.”     

“Besides,” she said, a hopeless frustration creeping into her voice.  “I despise Voldemort.  I hate him for what he did to you, to your family.  Do you think I want the timing of my sex life dictated by him?  No way, Harry.”  He smiled at her in wonder.  She began again, her voice softer now, “When and where we make love is our business, and I want our first time to be…. perfect.  No dark clouds hanging over us.  Can you understand?”  In answer, he kissed her forehead, her eyes, and then at last her slightly open mouth.  “Of course,” he breathed, “that’s exactly the way it should be, the way I’ve always hoped it would be. I just thought…” She brought her fingers to his lips, “Shh, Harry, enough said.  I’m barely clinging to my convictions as it is.  If you go on much more, I’m liable to let you take me right here on this table.”  He laughed out loud.  “You are the most remarkable woman I’ve ever met.  So what would you have me do?  You won’t let me protect you the way I want to, and now you’re afraid to be alone with me.”  She laughed, “I didn’t say that…”  She kissed him deeply.

“But Harry,” she said in a moment, “there is something you can do.”  He looked at her inquiringly.  “Learn to conjure your cloak and the knife Sirius gave you last Christmas.  Start right now – tonight.” He smiled a half smile.  “Yes m’am.  Anything to please you, but I must say, I liked my to-do list for the evening better than the one you’re suggesting.”  She drew away from him in mock anger, “Is that what I am to you?  An item on a to-do list? Get out of here Harry, before I dose you with something…” she said, gesturing to a row of ominous looking bottles.  He fled, laughing.

Hermione retrieved the goblet of wolfsbane potion and returned to the sitting room.  Remus pinched his nose tightly, and then drank the strong smelling liquid.  “Disgusting” he said with a shudder, “a good sign that it will work.  Thank you, Hermione, for all your help, wolfsbane potion is not something I’d have been up to brewing on my own.”  In answer, she hugged him.  “You’re welcome. Besides, you’re family.”  He squeezed her hand and said,  “And lucky to have such family as you.” Hermione blushed and turned away.

 Harry breezed in carrying the Invisibility Cloak and the knife Sirius had given him for Christmas.  “Okay, who wants to teach me how to conjure these?” he said, briskly.  “Hermione has given me until morning to do it…”  And so the conjuring lessons began.  Sirius worked with Harry intensely, and after about an hour, he was starting to get the hang of it.

 Hermione had grown sleepy once again, and decided to slip up to bed.  “Good night all,” she called from the door.  Harry turned to face her and said, “Sleep well.”  But his eyes said something very different.  In her head, she alone heard him say, “I’ll come to you soon…”  She smiled, and began the climb to her room.

 Harry and Sirius continued to practice the conjuring charm.  Harry seemed to have hit a plateau, so Sirius suggested a break.  “Come look at this, Dumbledore has sent us something that may come in handy.”  Sirius crossed to the corner where he and Arabella had been chatting and returned with a long thin package.  He placed it gently on the table where Ron and Remus had been working.  “Open it,” he said to Harry.  Gingerly, Harry removed the thick paper.  It was a sword – one that Harry recognized.  “Godric Gryffindor’s sword” Ron gasped.  “Why did Dumbledore send it to you?”  Sirius picked it up.  It flashed in the light.  “Maybe for the same reason he sent it to Harry when he was in the Chamber of Secrets.  I think he thinks we may need it soon.”   Arabella approached the table.  “I certainly hope not.  Wands are much neater weapons.”  She gave an involuntary shudder.  “Remus, the moon is about to crest the horizon.  I think you’d better come with me…”  He was just rising to follow her when Harry’s ring let out a piercing hum and glowed brightly.  “Hermione!” Sirius shouted.

 Hermione made her solitary way up to her room.  Just as she reached her room, a queer feeling washed over her.  The hair on the back of her neck stood up.  “Nerves” she said to herself.  She swung her door open and looked around, it was dark.  The sun had set, but the moon had not yet risen.  She fumbled for a lamp.  A hooded figure moved in the shadows.  It crept closer to Hermione, but she never saw it, never heard it. 

 Gloved hands seized her roughly.  There was a BANG! from a wand.  Cords bound her arms and hands tightly, cutting into her skin.  She tried to scream, but a gag was stuffed into her mouth.  She felt and saw the Cadeau Du Mer start to glow.  Now was her chance, she could apparate to Harry right now and be free of this intruder.  And yet, she didn’t.  She was not going to spend her life running.  She thought a desperate message to Harry, “He’s here!  Wormtail is in my room!  Get Sirius and Remus!  Follow me!”  She heard Wormtail utter an incantation.  In an instant, they vanished with a whirl of wind.

 The sitting room was in pandemonium.  “Summon her!” Sirius shouted at Harry.  “Use the Cadeau du Mer and bring her to us!”  Just then, Harry heard her voice in his head, “He’s here! Wormtail is in my room…follow me!”  Harry’s heart began to pound “I heard her!  It’s Wormtail.  He’s taking her to Voldemort.  She’s letting him do it on purpose so we can follow…”  Sirius gave a strangled sort of gasp.  “No, Harry, no! She can’t! 

 “We’ve got to go to her Sirius, it’s the only way!” shouted Remus.  Sirius made a series of swift mental calculations.  “All right then,” he began barking orders, “Arabella – get to Dumbledore at once, tell him what’s going on.  Everybody else, under the cloak.”  It was hard for Remus, Sirius, Ron and Harry to fit under the cloak, but they managed it.  “Wands out! and look sharp.  If we all hold onto Harry and apparate at the same time, the Cadeau du Mer will draw us as a group to Hermione.” “I’ve never apparated before!” shouted Ron desperately.  “First time for everything…” said Harry.  “On three!  One….Two….Three…”  they shouted “Appareo” and vanished in a whirl of wind.

 They landed with a jolt on uneven sandy ground.  Harry looked around, trying to figure out where they were.  It was like a scene from Hell.  They were at Paravel’s cove beach.  A pyre had been lit near the water’s edge.  Flames roared into the night sky.  Clouds had rolled in and lighting snapped in the distance.  Masked Death Eaters were everywhere dancing and shouting in some form of horrible ritual.  Hermione was lashed to a pole about ankle deep in the water.  Her eyes were wide in terror.  On a stone dais Voldemort stood, his wand pointed at her.  “Imperio!” he shouted.

 Her mind went blank.  It was a pleasant, detached sort of feeling.  A harsh voice rang in her ears.  “Summon the Druidess Cliona” it demanded, “Certainly”, she thought to herself.  Hermione concentrated on the ninth wave. She felt the Cadeau Du Mer begin to grow warm. 

 Harry watched in horror as Clio’s head and shoulders began to emerge from the surf.  “No, Hermione, No!” He thought desperately, “Don’t do it.” 

 Hermione’s head jerked.  She had heard it - Harry’s voice in her head, telling her to send Clio away.  She was confused.  Clio halted in the surf, uncertainly.

 “We need a distraction” hissed Sirius.  “The Mark!” said Ron suddenly, “let me launch the Mark of The Firebird.”  Sirius nodded.  “Okay, Ron, you see those boulders over there?”  Ron nodded.  “When I tell you to, make a dash for them and launch the Mark.  Harry, as soon as he does, get to Hermione and untie her.  Remus and I will cover you.  Ron, you take the cloak with you.  Is everybody ready?”  Harry drew his knife out and flicked the blade open, then nodded.  “Now!” Sirius shouted.

 Ron streaked away under the cloak.  Harry, Sirius and Remus were exposed, but their appearance went unnoticed.  All eyes were fixed on Voldemort.  He was hissing at Hermione, again.  “Summon the druidess!  Summon her I say!”  Hermione was being overwhelmed.  She cried out.  At her cry, Harry felt a slow rage begin deep inside; his ears were beginning to pound.  He focused his entire being on Hermione, “Hermione, don’t listen to him.  It’s Voldemort.  He’s trying to use you to summon Clio.  Fight him!  Fight him, Hermione, don’t give in.  I’m here with you.  Hang on!  Hang on until I can free you.”   He saw her begin to struggle in her bonds. Just when he thought he could stand it no longer, he heard Ron’s voice, then saw the Firebird unfurling itself against the stormy sky.  The sight of the enormous flaming phoenix caught the Death Eaters totally by surprise – exactly as Sirius had hoped.

Harry dashed to Hermione and began slicing through the ropes that held her to the post.  Voldemort saw him and shouted, “I don’t think so, Mr. Potter…”  A jet of green sparks issued from Voldemort’s wand.  Sirius threw himself between Harry and the wand blast.  He was knocked off his feet, into the surf.  Sirius rose quickly and sent a jet of gold sparks at Voldemort.  In the meantime, Harry freed Hermione, who had fainted.  She fell limply on his shoulder.  Gathering Hermione in his arms, Harry handed her to Remus, shouting at him, “Take her back, take her away from here!” Ron had just reached their side with the cloak, when he saw, to his amazement, that Harry’s eyes had begun to glow, eerily.  Harry raised his wand and directed it at Ron, Remus, and Hermione.  In a flash of wind, they were gone.  Harry had, instinctively and totally without forethought, drawn on his developing powers as a sorcerer and used the banishing charm to send them all to the cliff tops, high above the beach, away from danger.

Harry turned to see Sirius and Voldemort locked in a deadly duel.  Sirius was totally focused on Voldemort and didn’t see the hooded figure of Wormtail creeping up behind him, dagger drawn.  “Sirius!” Harry shouted, “Behind you!”  Sirius ducked and drew his sword reflexively.  He whirled and in one motion, severed Wormtail’s head from his body.  It rolled into the surf, twitching.  Voldemort turned his attention to Harry.  “And now, boy, I shall finally kill you!  Once you’re dead the Cadeau du Mer will be mine and so will your precious virgin sorceress.  I’m sure that in time, she’ll find me irresistible…”  Harry’s scar exploded with pain.  He fought to keep control over himself.  “Just like Arabella you mean,” Harry called.  This taunt seemed to infuriate Voldemort who shot a jet of green light at Harry.

 High on the cliff-top above, Ron and Remus struggled to their feet.  “How did he do that?” Ron asked, dazed.  “He’s a sorcerer in a highly emotional state – capable of almost anything at this point.” Remus replied.  “Ron, I’ve got to go back, I’ve got to help them.” He gestured to Hermione’s prone form, “Stay with her, do you understand?”   Remus was about to say something else, just what, Ron never knew, for at that moment, there was a break in the clouds and the full moon bathed Remus in its light.  “Oh no,” Ron whispered “Oh no, not now…” Ron drew out his wand and placed himself between Hermione and Remus, who was rapidly becoming a werewolf.  “I’ll stun him, that’s it, I’ll just stun him as soon as he’s done transforming.” Ron muttered to himself, trying to keep calm. 

 Remus’s hands were clenched tightly, becoming ugly clawed paws, his face elongated, he dropped to all fours.  In a twinkling, the transformation was complete.  Hermione stirred in the grass and sat up.  She saw Remus and froze.  Just as Ron was about to stun him, Hermione shouted, “Wait! Wait Ron, he’s had the potion, he should be safe!”  “Do you really want to take that chance?!” He shouted back.  In answer, the wolf trotted forward and licked Ron’s hand.  Ron sank into the grass in relief. 

 Hermione grabbed the wolf’s face firmly in her hands, “Remus? Remus can you understand me?”  The wolf whined.  “Go help Harry! Help him!” she cried and pointed to the beach.  The wolf whirled and ran headlong down the cliff path and into a group of Death Eaters, biting and snapping as it went.  “Maybe he’ll bite Lucius Malfoy,” Ron said hopefully.  “I’d like to think of Draco with a werewolf for a father…”

 Back on the beach, Voldemort’s wand blast had sent Harry arcing high into the air.  Voldemort began spinning and twisting Harry’s body.  The pain from his scar was like white hot knives.  He could hear the high cold laugh of his enemy.  “So, you fancy yourself a phoenix?  Let’s see you rise from these ashes!”  Harry had suddenly stopped spinning.  He was plummeting directly into the roaring flames of the huge ceremonial pyre the Death Eaters had built for their ritual.  From the cliff-tops high above, Hermione screamed.  Sirius, shouted “No!” and directed his wand at Harry.  At jet of gold light streaked toward him and missed…

 Harry could just feel the heat of the flames when he realized what he had to do, if only he could do it in time.  Just as his tumbling form reached the flames, Sirius saw a flash of light.  There was a horrible crash.  The flames leapt higher.  Voldemort’s laughter rang out across the cove.

 Immediately, Voldemort turned his red slits of eyes to Sirius.  “Not much of a godfather, are you?  Maybe you can make it up to him…in the afterlife.”  Simultaneously, they raised their wands.  Then, out of the corner of his eye, Sirius saw movement among the flames.  A huge figure - a form was pushing away at the burning timbers.  Voldemort heard the noise and turned.  He could not believe his eyes, from the flames, an enormous bird was taking shape, growing steadily.  It was a phoenix – not an ordinary phoenix, but FIREBIRD, the terrible warrior of legend.  It screamed.  It’s shrill cry piercing the night.  Slowly, a massive bird, composed entirely of flames rose toward the Mark Ron had launched, eclipsing it.  Its wingspan was perhaps sixty or seventy-five feet long.  Its beak hooked – its talons razor sharp, its eyes soulless and terrifying. 

Death Eaters screamed and threw themselves on the ground.  The FIREBIRD dove suddenly, picking up speed, then racing along the ground.  The Death Eaters were burning.  Their bodies left twisted and burnt in the wake of the FIREBIRD.  Remus retreated to the safety of some large boulders only just in time to avoid the deadly wings. 

 The FIREBIRD screamed again and bore down on Voldemort.  Sirius leapt into the surf, submerging himself in the waves.  Voldemort screamed as the FIREBIRD clutched him like a rag doll in his talons.  The FIREBIRD began to climb, and as it did, it tossed the figure of the dark wizard like a plaything, catching it firmly in its beak.  The wizard screamed in terror and pain. And still they climbed.

 From their vantage on the cliff tops, Ron and Hermione watched in horror.  Dumbledore and Arabella apparated at their side.  “Dumbledore!” Hermione cried, pointing at the FIREBIRD, “that’s Harry, he’s…” but Hermione was unable to finish her sentence.

 The FIREBIRD had soared out over the sea, and as it did, it wrapped Voldemort in its flaming wings – a deadly embrace.  A charred form fell to the water below.  “He’s dead,” Hermione said weakly. “I didn’t think Harry would….would kill him.”  “That’s not Harry you see out there,” said Dumbledore.  The FIREBIRD is not just a super phoenix.  It has a will of its own.  It will take Harry over completely if we don’t compel him to transform back into himself quickly.” Dumbledore grabbed Hermione forcefully by the shoulders.  “Use the Cadeau Du Mer to summon Harry.  Not the FIREBIRD!  Harry.  Use the emotional link you have with him to talk to him.  Call him back, Hermione.  Call him back to himself.” 

 The FIREBIRD swept over the beach, its restless eyes looking for anything moving.  Hermione stepped to the edge of the cliff and stretched her arms out toward the flaming figure.  She began to concentrate on Harry – his face, his voice.  “Harry, it’s over.  You’ve beaten him.  Come back to us Harry, come back to me…”  She felt the Cadeau Du Mer warming around her neck.  It began to glow.  The FIREBIRD screamed in anger.  It changed course and made directly for Hermione.  “Its going to kill us, its going to kill us all” said Ron in disbelief.  “It doesn’t want to give up its form!” 

 The FIREBIRD roared ever closer.  Hermione could feel a rush of searing wind from its wings.  When it was nearly upon them, she shouted, “Accio Harry!”  There was a burst of white hot light.  Harry tumbled onto the grass at Hermione’s feet.  He was covered in ashes and soot.  The grass where he lay began scorch and smoke from the heat of his body.  He wasn’t conscious.

Hermione flung herself to the ground beside him, calling his name.  She cradled his head in her lap, oblivious to the heat burning her hands.  Sirius apparated nearby.  He advanced to Harry’s unmoving body.  “Is he…” Sirius began, raising his eyes to Dumbledore.  “No, he’s still alive, but only just.  We must get him back to Paravel.”  Dumbledore raised his arms and the whole party began to apparate as one.  Just before he vanished, Ron caught a fleeting glimpse of the Mark of the Firebird.  It had begun to fade.

Chapter Fifteen – The Prophecy Fulfilled

Hermione’s feet touched something firm.  She opened her eyes.  They were in Harry’s room.  Arabella began shouting directions immediately.  “Ron, Sirius, get him onto his bed.  Hermione, have Hopkins bring all the ice in the house up here.  We’ve got to get him cooled off…” Everyone sprang to do Arabella’s bidding.  Ron and Sirius lifted Harry gently on to cool clean white linens.  Hermione dashed off to get Hopkins. 

Dumbledore made his way to the sitting room, where he started a fire with a flick of his wand.  He withdrew some powder from a small velvet drawstring bag in his robes and tossed it into the flames.  They roared higher, turning bright green.  “Poppy?” Dumbledore called into the flames.  “I need to speak with you on a matter of some urgency…”  A whirling whizzing shape appeared in the flames.  Madame Pomfrey clambered out of the fireplace, brushing ashes and soot from her clean nurses’ uniform.  “Yes, Headmaster?” she asked, standing up straight.  “It’s Harry, Poppy, he needs your help…”  “I might have known,” she said, clucking like a mother hen.  “What has he done now?”  Dumbledore propelled her to the door of the sitting room and up the stairs to Harry’s room.  As they walked, he told her what had happened.  By the time they reached Harry’s room, her eyes were filled with tears.

Hermione had returned with Hopkins, who was packing ice all around Harry’s arms, legs, and chest.  Hermione had gotten a cold washcloth and was sponging Harry’s face gently with it.  She tried speaking to him, both out loud and otherwise, but got no response. 

Arabella heard the door open and saw Madam Pomfrey with Dumbledore.  “Oh Poppy,” she cried, “thank heaven you’re here…”  “Thank Dumbledore,” she replied, briskly.  As was her want, Madam Pomfrey ordered everyone out of her patient’s room.  Hermione begged to stay, appealing to Dumbledore for permission.  He nodded his consent. 

“Well, Miss Granger,” said Madam Pomfrey, “if you’re going to stay, then try to be of some use.  Hand me my things…” Hermione handed Madam Pomfrey various and sundry items from her medical bag as they were needed.  After a long examination, Madam Pomfrey said with a sigh of relief, “He’s going to be fine, Miss Granger.  He appears to be suffering from minor burns and exhaustion.  He’s going to need plenty of rest and lots of fluids.  Also, there is a restorative tonic I can give him that will help him along.  I’ll mix it now.”  Madam Pomfrey stepped into the bathroom and began mixing the ingredients for her tonic on the long counter.

The tears that Hermione had been close to shedding all evening now overwhelmed her.  She began to weep silently.  She took Harry’s hand in hers and kissed it.  He was going to be alright.  He would recover.  They would be together.  Harry turned his head slightly.  Hermione sensed the movement and looked up.  Harry opened his eyes, slowly, painfully, and looked at her.  He smiled.  Now Hermione was in floods of tears.  She kissed Harry’s forehead and lips.  She heard his voice in her head.  “It’s alright, Hermione, I’m okay, I love you…” The effort drained him and he slipped quietly back to sleep.  

A faint pink glowed at the horizon when Sirius crept into Harry’s room to check on his godson and on Hermione.  Sirius knew that she must be worn out and needing rest herself, but she wouldn’t leave Harry’s side.  She had fallen asleep sitting on a stool by the bed, her head resting on one of Harry’s hands.  Sirius touched her shoulder gently.  She jerked awake.  “Come with me…” he mouthed, leading her into the hall.  “Hermione, you need to get some rest.  Let Ron stay with him for a while, or I will, but you get some sleep.”  She refused to go to bed, but at length agreed to walk out with Sirius in search of Remus.  The moon had set, the sun was rising.  Somewhere, Remus would be transforming back into himself.  They needed to find him.

Sirius conjured a strong cup of coffee for her, and the two set out along the cliff path toward the cove.  The sun was just breasting the horizon.  At the top of the cliffs, they paused looking wordlessly at the patch of burnt grass where Harry had lay.   Turning from the sight, Hermione gazed anxiously into the cove looking for any sign of Remus.

During the night, a particularly high tide had swept the beach clean.  There were no traces of the Death Eaters, no remnant of what was nearly a funeral pyre.  No Wormtail, headless, twitching in the surf.  Nothing.  It was as though Clio had set herself to washing away all traces of the nightmare evening.  The only hints of the fearsome battle were the scorch marks on the face of the cliff and on the boulders where they had been swept by the flaming wings of the Firebird.  There was also no sign of Remus.

The cove was silent and calm.  Only the lapping of the waves and the cry of a gull broke the stillness.  Hermione spotted movement among some rocks near the shore.  “There!” she pointed, shouting to Sirius.  At once, they apparated to the spot. 

Remus was just getting to his feet.  He was dirty and bruised.  Scratches covered his face and hands.  He stumbled.  Sirius caught him.  Hermione put one of his arms over her shoulders, Sirius took his other arm.  Remus seemed too ill or too injured to speak.  He let them walk him out onto the beach.  “We’d better get him back to the house,” Hermione began, but paused.  The Cadeau Du Mer had begun to glow at her throat.  Sirius saw it.  “It is Harry?” he asked sharply.  “No,” said Hermione, “Look!  It’s Clio!” 

The morning sunlight slanted over the small breakers that rolled into the cove.  Rising from the largest of them, were the head and shoulders of a beautiful woman.  She was, as usual composed entirely of water, foam, mist, and droplets of sea spray.  She beckoned them to the shore.  They staggered toward her, half dragging Remus.  The water was washing over their feet, but still she beckoned them on.

When at last they were waist deep in the water, she turned and glided toward them.  She pointed to Remus.  Hermione tried to ask “What is it Clio?” but the wave from which Clio had emerged broke on the shore.  She vanished.  They would have to wait for the ninth wave… 

“Sirius, what does she mean, calling us to her?  Does she just need to satisfy herself that we’re all right after last night?”  He shrugged.  Before he could respond, she was with them again, much closer this time.  Clio reached for Remus and pulled him into her arms.  He floated on his back in the water.  With her free hand, she reached to the Cadeau Du Mer and touched it.  Hermione had a flash of insight.  Clio was going to fulfill the prophecy.  “And the sea shall grant each man new life…” Hermione thought to herself.  Clio smiled.  “I think I understand,” Hermione said slowly to Clio, “not an eternal life, but a new life, free of the curse of the werewolf.”  Clio nodded, and then at once plunged Remus under water. 

The water began to boil around them.  “Remus!” Sirius shouted, lunging for the spot where he had submerged.  Hermione said, in an odd, sing-song voice, “Be still, Sirius, no harm will come to him,” Sirius looked sharply at Hermione, her eyes were glazed and out of focus.  She appeared to be concentrating her powers.  She spread her hands over the churning water.  “What’s happening?” Sirius demanded, Hermione intoned calmly, “Submersion in water is a symbolic representation of death.  An old life dies, and is buried under the waves so that a new life can arise.  Like the ritual of baptism in the church, Sirius.  It is an ancient custom.”  She broke off, inhaling sharply, then continued, “Clio has bestowed her gift, of her own free will, at a time of her choosing.  Rise Remus!  Rise and live as the wizard you were meant to be.  You are a wolf no longer…”  There was a deafening roar as Remus gained the surface. 

The years seemed to have slipped away.  Gone was the premature grey in his hair.  His face was smooth and handsome – the fine lines and beginnings of wrinkles washed away.  His appeared to be fit and strong.  From him emanated an aura of health and well-being.

He stood, blinking at Hermione and Sirius.  Remus approached Hermione and taking her by the shoulders, called her name gently.  She seemed to hear him from a long way away.  Clio rose nearby, taking one of Hermione’s hands in her own.  She was able to linger only for a moment before the ninth wave broke on the shore.  Clio vanished and Hermione woke suddenly from her trance-like state.

“What happened?” she gasped in confusion.  Sirius began in halting sentences… “You…you just fulfilled the prophecy.  You used your powers to allow Clio to grant new life….to Remus!”  “What?” exclaimed Remus, “had I been killed?” “No, you weren’t dead Remus, but you were a werewolf.  Somehow, Clio ended that life for you, and then granted you a new one.  Clio drew on Hermione’s powers and granted you a life without the curse of the werewolf.”  Hermione looked at Sirius in disbelief.  Sirius rattled on, “Hermione! Can’t you remember?  You just spoke…you just said, ‘Rise Remus! Rise and live as the wizard you were meant to be.  You are a wolf no longer…’  You don’t remember anything?” he demanded.  “Yes,” she said slowly, I remember seeing Clio reach for the Cadeau du Mer.  When she touched it, I realized what she was going to do and that I should help her.”

“So….” Remus began in a whisper, “so I am no longer a werewolf”  “Apparently, not…” said Sirius in wonder.  “You should see yourself, you don’t look like the same man…”  Remus threw back his head and shouted joyously at the sky.  He seized Hermione and lifted her high up in his arms, twirling her around him like a little girl.  She hugged him tightly, in floods of happy tears.  “The nightmare is over!” he shouted.  “You have saved another man, Hermione, a man who was living out a terrible sentence, just as surely as Sirius was.”  Sirius said softly to himself, “If Fudge ever finds out what she and Harry have been up to these last twenty four hours, he’ll see to it that they received the Order of Merlin. Or better yet,” he mused,  “The Order of the Phoenix.”    

“Let’s go home, shall we?” Sirius said grinning broadly.  In unison, they apparated back to Paravel.  They touched down on the gravel drive in front of the house, appearing out of thin air like a band of weary angels.  As they landed, Hermione felt a bit dizzy – unsteady on her feet.  She stumbled against Remus, who caught her.  “You okay?” he asked, concerned.  “I’m fine, just a bit tired” she said in a quiet voice.  “Poor darling, you’ve been through too much…” said Remus.  “And with no sleep,” said Sirius.  Remus lifted her easily and carried her across the drive toward the house.  Dumbledore came rapidly down the steps of the terrace, purple robes flaring out behind him, to meet them.  There was worry on his face, “What has happened?” he said, looking at Hermione’s limp figure.  “She’s fine, Dumbledore, just exhausted.  We need to get her into bed.” said Sirius.

Remus laid his cousin on her bed with infinite tenderness.  Arabella and Madame Pomfrey bathed her and put her in clean robes.  Hermione slept, at last, the deep dreamless sleep of those who are completely safe and perfectly loved.

Remus found Sirius and Dumbledore in the sitting room, deep in conversation.  They rose when he walked in.  Dumbledore crossed the room to meet him.  Taking him by the shoulders, Dumbledore turned Remus so that the mid-morning sun shone directly in his face.  Dumbledore studied his face without speaking.  He peered over his half-moon spectacles into Remus’s eyes.  Then, he smiled gently, saying, “So, it is true.  You no longer suffer the curse of the werewolf.”  Dumbledore stepped away, shaking his head, hands behind his back, pacing.  “I never expected this…miracle.” He paused, “And you two say it happened spontaneously between Hermione and Clio?”  “Yes, sir” Sirius answered.  “Clearly, it was Clio’s idea, but she needed Hermione’s…” he was searching for the right word, “abilities to complete the process.  I’ve never seen anything like it.”  “Nor are you likely to see it again in your lifetime, Sirius.”  An ancient prophecy has been fulfilled.  It is not something that could ever be repeated.  And so, I must ask you not to speak of it to anyone outside this house.  Hermione would never have a moment’s peace.  She would be besieged by those hoping to be relieved of the werewolf’s curse.  To make the wizarding community aware of her role in this event would be unkind.”  Sirius and Remus agreed.

“It is, however, important for the wizarding world to know that you have been cured, Remus.” Dumbledore said with a twinkle in his eyes.  “Why, sir?” Remus asked.  “Because, when you are reinstated as my Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, I don’t want to be caught in another storm of owls from parents.”  Dumbledore looked at Remus appraisingly, “You will do it, won’t you?” he asked, certain of the answer.  “Yes!  Yes, of course I will, headmaster.  It would be an honor.” Remus was positively beaming as he shook Dumbledore’s hand. 

Sirius, sighed heavily and strode from the room, like someone facing an unpleasant task.  “Where are you going?” Remus asked.  “I’m taking a page out of Hermione’s book,” he answered, sighing again, “I’m going to send an owl to that foul Skeeter woman.  Can you think of a better way to break your news to the world?” Sirius shuddered involuntarily and headed for Arabella’s writing desk.

When Sirius had gone, Remus turned to Dumbledore and said with a note of gravity in his voice, “Headmaster, some of the Death Eaters escaped.  They weren’t all destroyed by the Firebird.  They shielded themselves among the rocks, as I did.  One, in particular, you should aware of…” he paused, “was Lucius Malfoy.”  Dumbledore didn’t say anything, but merely sat quietly, placing the fingertips of one hand, against the fingertips of the other.  “There’s something else,

Sir, “Remus continued, “before Harry became the Firebird, there was a moment on the beach, when, as a werewolf, I charged among the Death Eaters, biting and snapping.  Lucius Malfoy was bitten, and unless I am much mistaken, he now suffers as I once did.”

“These things happen, Remus” Dumbledore said, regarding him calmly, “It is fortunate, that Lucius has recently made a large donation to St. Mungo’s Hospital for Magical Maladies.  Perhaps they will be able to do something for him…” Dumbledore said, “And now, I think we should turn our attention to a matter of greater importance – lunch. Care to join me?”  Remus smiled wonderingly at his Headmaster, delighted to join him not just for lunch, but for any adventure he might ever have in mind.   

In the end, Sirius, Remus, and Dumbledore agreed that all the credit would be given to Clio, which suited Hermione fine.  Rita Skeeter and her rumpled photographer, Bonzo spent days out in the surf trying to catch a glimpse of her for a photograph, but to no avail.  Clio kept sensibly to herself which both amused and pleased all of her friends at Paravel.

1   ...   4   5   6   7   8   9   10   11   ...   22


Verilənlər bazası müəlliflik hüququ ilə müdafiə olunur ©atelim.com 2016
rəhbərliyinə müraciət