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The Witch of the Westmoreland
Chapter 6
By Anne B. Walsh
In October, James and Lily set their wedding date—23 June, 1979—and owled out their invitations, and the Order of the Phoenix turned to the difficult task of fighting a war and planning for a wedding simultaneously. Several people, mostly male, were heard to remark that they’d rather have had two wars.
To the surprise of everyone, except perhaps Remus and Peri, Sirius Black arrived at Headquarters on the morning of that Saturday in June with a laughing, dark-skinned witch beside him. She cried out in joy when she saw Peri and flew into her arms, stopping only to tenderly caress her sister’s obviously pregnant belly, and James pounded his best friend’s back. "I knew you could do it!" he exulted, as Sirius shook hands heartily with Peter and Remus, adding a knowing wink to the second one. "When’re you two going to get married, then?"
"Give it some time, Prongs. She only admitted to caring about me last week."
"Cut it a little fine, didn’t you?" said Peter, and grinned at Sirius’ mock growl. "I’ve missed hearing you do that."
"I’ve missed you in the apprentice rotation," said James. "They keep pairing me with the class wallies."
"And I’ve missed your habit of having a bad joke for every occasion," said Remus as Lily came into the room and exclaimed over Veri’s presence. "So we’ve all missed different things about you. Now, if you don’t mind, you and Wormtail and I have a little job we really can’t miss, since it has to be finished in time for tonight."
"Merlin’s beard, the speech." Sirius clapped a hand to his forehead melodramatically. "You still want me for best man, Prongs?"
"Who else? Don’t answer that," James said quickly to Remus and Peter.
Remus snapped his fingers. Peter pouted.
Despite being rather impromptu, Sirius’ speech went off well, and the wedding of James and Lily Potter was voted a general success. Sirius resumed his Auror training and Order duties, and Veri, like Peri, was welcomed by the Order, all the more because of Veri’s particular talent with wounds, though Peri was generally acknowledged as the reason half the Order hadn’t yet gone insane. Sirius was barred from the betting on when Peri’s baby would arrive and whether she would have a boy or a girl, but that didn’t stop him from hanging around the board and smirking whenever someone else registered a bet.
And near the end of July, Veri finally persuaded Sirius to do something he’d been half-thinking about ever since her lessons on kindness had begun to sink in.
Sirius Black, Auror apprentice, member of the Order of the Phoenix, Marauder in good standing, returned home.
This is a bad idea.
Sirius fidgeted nervously on the steps outside the house. He’d been standing here for ten minutes, trying to get up the courage to knock.
I should just leave. They’re not going to want to see me—Mother’ll scream at me, and Regulus might well hex me, I’m pretty sure he’s a Death Eater by now—
No. I came, so I might as well go in. Even if it’s just to get screamed at and hexed.
At least then I’ll know where I stand.
Other than "on the front stoop."
He knocked.
Barely ten seconds later, the door was flung open. "What do you—" the person on the other side began to snarl, only to stop short as he realized who had come to call.
"Afternoon, Reggie," said Sirius dryly.
"Don’t call me that," Regulus Black snapped. "What do you want?"
Sirius shrugged. "Wanted to see how everyone’s doing. Mother around?"
"No. She’s out." The words came quick and clipped, as though Regulus were thinking hard behind them. "Sirius, you’re still—I mean, I’d heard that you’d left the Auror program—"
"Not left, just took a leave of absence for a few months. I’m back now."
"So you’re still fighting, then?"
"Fighting Voldemort?"
Regulus jumped. "Don’t do that." He looked up and down the street, then quickly waved Sirius into the house. "Come upstairs. I need to talk to you."
Well, this is unexpected. "All right."
In Regulus’ Slytherin-lined bedroom, Sirius took the chair he was offered and watched as his little brother paced up and down the floor. "I don’t even know if you’ll understand what I think is going on," he said, stopping as he turned to give Sirius a challenging stare. "I don’t know if you’ve ever heard of these things."
"What things?"
Regulus plucked a book off his bed and tossed it to Sirius. "I marked the passage," he said. "Read it. Tell me if you think it fits... him."
Sirius opened the book to the dog-eared page and began to read where a section had been outlined in black ink. At the end of it, he looked up. "Yeah," he said slowly. "Yeah, I think that fits his style just fine. Why?"
"Because I know where it is, and how to get it." Regulus’ hands were balled into fists. "Or at least I can find out." He looked into Sirius’ eyes again, but this time the look was oddly desperate. "We don’t agree on a lot. But I think we can agree that it’s no great honor to have your family’s faithful servant tortured and left to die."
What, Kreacher? Couldn’t happen to a nicer elf. But Sirius recalled how fond his brother had always been of Kreacher, and what he knew of Voldemort’s favorite methods of torture, and surprised himself by nodding with genuine feeling. "I think we can," he said.
"I don’t want to serve someone who’d do that." Regulus returned to pacing. "But once you’re in, there’s no way out. No way except one. And I was going to take it. Go after this thing. Let the protections on it kill me." He turned to Sirius again. "I was going to go tonight. But then you show up on the doorstep. It’s like a sign." A little, desperate half-laugh. "Maybe it means I’m not supposed to die tonight after all."
"Not dying is generally a good thing," said Sirius, making up his mind and standing up. "Come on, Reggie—Regulus," he corrected himself quickly before his brother could. "Kreacher have a travel basket?"
"Somewhere around," said Regulus, looking at him suspiciously. "Why?"
"Get him in it. You two are coming with me." Sirius drew his wand, careful not to point it anywhere near Regulus, and began composing his message in his mind.
"Coming where?"
"I don’t know yet. Give me a minute." Sirius lifted his wand to his mouth and spoke into it in a hushed tone. "Very important information, need neutral meeting point, please reply soonest." Pointing his wand at the opposite wall, he concentrated on the moment when Veri had finally admitted that his dogged determination—pun fully intended—had won her heart. "Expecto patronum!"
Regulus looked askance at the silvery dog, but didn’t comment, vanishing out the door instead and returning shortly thereafter with a traveling cloak on and a large, latched wicker basket in his arms, from which muttering sounds emerged. He did not offer to open it, and Sirius was just as glad. He had no desire to hear his mother’s pureblood cant repeated in house-elf grammar.
About five minutes later, a silver phoenix soared through the wall and fluttered to a halt in front of Sirius. "Room seven of Hog’s Head, barman will not question, I will come alone," said the voice of Albus Dumbledore from its beak.
"That good enough for you?" Sirius asked.
Regulus nodded curtly.
Together, they Disapparated, and reappeared on Hogsmeade’s main street. The sun was starting to set as they walked into the Hog’s Head, Regulus with the hood of his cloak up and Kreacher silent within his basket. The barman gave them a cursory glance as they entered, then jerked his thumb at the stairs. They ascended to the first floor together, Regulus ahead, Sirius behind, and Sirius rapped on the door of room seven when they arrived, four long, four short, two long. The door opened, and he waved his brother inside.
Maybe there’s something to this "being nice to people" thing. Without it, I’d be down a brother—I may not care a lot about him, but I still don’t want him dead—and we wouldn’t know how old Moldy-face has been staying alive. Dumbledore probably knew this already, of course, or at least suspected it, but independent confirmation’s always good...
Sirius shut the door behind himself feeling rather cheerful.
We may win this war after all.
"Yes," Peri said, looking with distaste verging on horror at the huge locket which lay on the kitchen table at Headquarters. "Yes, it bears a soul."
Remus stood behind her chair, rubbing her shoulders. Sirius and Veri were upstairs, helping Kreacher tend to Regulus, who’d insisted on drinking the green potion himself, after ordering Kreacher to take both of them back to the Hog’s Head as soon as he’d got the locket. James, Lily, and Peter were in the storage room, fetching what Dumbledore thought might be necessary for the next step of his plan.
"Tell me what you can about it," said Dumbledore now, standing at the opposite corner of the table.
"It is evil," Peri stated flatly. "Its only goal is to remain in existence, to remain secret and safe. It will try to use us to that end, especially those who are not as strong as—" She stopped talking abruptly as the missing three returned, their arms full of maps and scrolls.
"Here’s what you wanted," said James, laying down his burden partly on top of the locket. "Great Merlin, that thing’s huge. Probably give you a backache just from wearing it."
"It’s ancient," said Lily, adding her own armload. "Made for miniature portraits, not photographs."
"What’s the design on it?" Peter asked, dropping his scrolls onto the table and leaning over to get a better look.
"A snake," said Dumbledore. "Not unlike Voldemort’s own mark."
Peter stood up on the instant. "Would anyone mind if I went somewhere else?" he asked, eyeing the locket nervously.
"Not in the least," said Dumbledore. "In fact, I think we three should be alone for this. Thank you all, and I shall call if you are needed."
Lily, who looked a bit ill, quit the kitchen on Peter’s heels, and James followed her out, nodding to Remus and Peri on the way.
Dumbledore waved his wand once, and the largest of the maps spread out, displaying the British Isles. "Headquarters is, of course, Unplottable," he said. "But point to its general location for me, Peri."
Peri’s hand came down over the southernmost area of England.
"Very good. Now." Dumbledore seemed oddly nervous. "You say the soul in this artifact is evil. Is it also distinctive?"
"Quite." Peri swallowed convulsively. "Must I be so near it?"
"For a few more moments only. May I see your hand?"
Peri extended it. Dumbledore traced his wand along her fingertips, and red dye coated them. "Do you think that you could find, on the map, the places where other pieces of this soul are located?"
"Other..." Peri stared at her hand. "I could," she said slowly. "I could find them. But they might also find me. And they are hungry. They seek power to keep themselves safe."
"I won’t let them take you," Remus murmured to his wife, stroking her hair. "You are mine and I love you, and no bits of soul are allowed to take you away from me."
"I will not pretend that this is not dangerous, or that I am not making shameless use of your abilities, Peri," said Dumbledore. "But I believe that the answer to the nature of this war—to the nature of Lord Voldemort—lies in this locket and whatever other artifacts like it may exist. If we can find them, and find them quickly..."
Peri reached behind her with her clean hand and grasped Remus’. "Hold me," she whispered. "Hold me as myself. Keep me from forgetting who I am and whom I love."
"With all my heart." Remus squeezed her fingers tightly.
Peri leaned forward over the map, glanced at the locket, and concentrated. Her hand darted out and marked a spot in the sprawling mass of London. Then another in Yorkshire, and another in Wiltshire. A hesitant moment in the north preceded the smearing of a wide blotch. Finally, she reached for the center of the map—
And screamed.
Dumbledore’s wand stabbed down, the scream cut off, and Peri collapsed against her husband, her eyes half-open and her breathing shallow and ragged.
"What happened?" Remus demanded as Dumbledore whispered something into his wand and shot a Patronus through the ceiling.
"She seems to have located Voldemort himself," Dumbledore said, coming around the table to kneel before Peri and run his wand over her body. "He does not take kindly to eavesdroppers."
"Is she going to be all right?" Remus held tightly to his wife’s hand, looking down at her unconscious face.
"I believe she will live. For anything else—"
"Move," said Veri shortly, coming through the kitchen door with Sirius behind her. "Let me see her."
Dumbledore rose and stepped back, and Veri caught her sister’s hand in her own, hissing between her teeth as she did. "Little fool," she whispered, shaking her head. "Brave, thoughtless little fool." She looked up at Remus. "She escaped the killing blow for herself. But she was not alone. I will do what I can, but I fear it was too late in the moment she cried out." Her eyes were bleak, her free hand resting on the curve of Peri’s stomach. "Even I cannot raise the dead."
Remus felt his heart freeze solid.
Our baby. Our little girl. Dead. Dead before she was ever born...
Vaguely, he was aware of Sirius’ arm around him, guiding him from the kitchen and up the stairs, of other voices and movement nearby, but nothing registered until a familiar hand rested on his shoulder and a deep, slow voice called his name.
"Dad?" Remus looked up with surprise into his father’s eyes. "What are you doing here?"
"Your friend called me and told me," John Lupin said, nodding towards the open door of Remus’ bedroom. "I’m sorry, cub. I never wanted you to know what this was like."
Remus could hear in his father’s voice the grief of a lifetime, for a son turned into a werewolf, for the two children who had died unborn after him, for Katherine herself, and his tears finally came. His father’s arms went around him, and they held each other against the world.
I still have him. I still have Peri. And Dumbledore would never have asked her to do this if it weren’t important. It may help win the war.
But none of that mattered now. Tomorrow, next week, next year, it might, but at this moment all Remus knew was sorrow. He had been ready for his own death in the war, or that of any of his friends, but he had never dreamed it might kill his daughter.
And for that, "Lord" Voldemort, I will kill you. I will watch you die and laugh in your face, and I will help to destroy everything you hold most dear, you and your precious Death Eaters as well.
No man should ever have to mourn his own child.
"Please tell me you got something worthwhile out of this, sir," said Sirius quietly to Dumbledore as the latter shut the door of Remus’ room, where the two Lupin men were sitting on a conjured couch beside the bed on which Peri lay, Veri sitting beside her and holding her sister’s hand.
"More than worthwhile." Dumbledore stroked the map he was carrying rolled up under one arm. "Though if I had known the price... but hindsight is perfect, as they say." The pain in his voice was under tight control, but strongly present for all that. "I can only pray that Remus and Peri will forgive me for what has happened."
"You never intended anyone to get hurt, sir," said James, coming up the stairs with Peter in time to hear this. "Moony and Peri know that."
"I am sure they do, but knowledge is a poor defense against sorrow." Dumbledore looked over James’ shoulder. "On that subject, Peter, thank you for having the presence of mind to contact Remus’ father immediately."
Peter nodded, glancing curiously at the map. "I probably shouldn’t ask, sir, but what..."
"Was Peri doing?" Dumbledore finished. "I cannot tell you everything, but I can say that she was seeking items without which we cannot hope to win this war. And I believe she may have found them."
"Good," James said fervently. "The sooner we get this over with, the better."
"Agreed." Dumbledore’s eyes refocused, as though he were looking through the wall into the room beyond. "I think," he said slowly, "that it would be only fair to give your group first refusal of helping to find these items, since it is you who have been most harmed by the search for them today. You are young, that is true, but your magic is strong, and your loyalty to one another unquestionable."
All three Marauders reddened slightly at this, but none of them flinched.
"Will you join me, then?" Dumbledore asked, waving to the bedroom across the hall from Remus and Peri’s. "And James, if you would summon Lily?"
"Maps, we can do," said Sirius, pulling out his wand as Peter unrolled the scroll. "We made this one of Hogwarts—"
James hissed at him, and he fell silent.
"Dear me, how these old ears do play tricks on me," said Dumbledore blandly from across the room, where he had a large book open and was pointing something out to Lily. "I believe you were saying that you have some expertise with maps, Sirius?"
"Yeah," Sirius said, breathing a sigh of relief. "We’ve done some work with them. I think we can probably get this right down to building level, maybe even the room."
"What’s this up here in the north?" Peter asked, pointing at it. "The others are little dots, but this is all smeared. Was she not sure where this one was?"
"Or maybe she couldn’t point it out exactly," said Lily, looking over at the boys. "Maybe it’s in a place you can’t point out on a map."
"But what—" James smacked himself on the forehead. "Stupid me. Unplottable. Wherever this thing is, it’s Unplottable."
"And gee, I wonder what’s up in the north and Unplottable," Sirius sing-songed, grinning.
"So that’s one we know right off." James scribbled a word on the scroll beside him. "Might be a job finding it in there, but we’ve got a general location, that’s all we need for now. Let’s try to get the one in London next, that’ll be the hardest, these other two are out in the country somewhere so even if we can’t bring them down as far it won’t be too hard to find them..."