Maybe
Chapter 11
By Anne B. Walsh
Author Notes:
Hermione's hair-combing song is courtesy of my mother.
Chapter 11
Remus lifted the Privacy Spell and eased Harry into a more comfortable position against him. Aletha was still singing to Hermione, whose eyes were drifting closed, as she finished combing out the girl’s hair. Neenie had hated to have her hair combed as a tiny girl, so Aletha had made up a hair-combing song for her to listen to while the detested activity occurred.
I’ve got a little spider with 24 legs,
She doesn’t eat flies and she doesn’t lay eggs.
She likes to climb in hair, black, blond, and brown;
She makes it neat as she climbs down.
Climb, little spider, climb on down,
But don’t make Neenie cry or frown,
Just climb into her hair and make it neat,
And then she will look pretty and sweet.
Remus caught Aletha’s eye and moved his hand back and forth horizontally. It was the signal for "the one you’ve got is asleep." Aletha nodded and put the comb (with its twenty-four tines) away in her bag.
"She napped earlier, too," said Remus, looking lovingly at the sleeping Hermione but feeling a trace of worry. "And I got a sense from Harry of very deep tiredness. Do you think it’s a side effect of the Memory Charms?"
"I think it’s a side effect of them feeling safe for the first time in three months." Aletha shifted her position slightly, easing the weight of Hermione’s head on her leg. "Harry fell asleep in my office — I’m not certain, but I think he may not have been sleeping well. I know he was being punished for something, as by his own admission he hadn’t eaten in nearly a full day. I made sure to feed him before we left."
Remus groaned, quietly so as not to rouse the boy. "Déjà vu all over again."
"Retrieving a starving, scared little boy from the clutches of the worst bunch of Muggles who have ever lived? Yes. But it was a stroke of luck for me — once he was asleep, I could bespell him to come just awake enough to walk with me and not really wake up until we were safely aboard the train. I would have had to argue with him, or lie to him, to get him to come with me otherwise, and I really didn’t want to do that."
"So you just carried him off in his sleep." Remus smiled. "I like it. Very poetic."
Aletha checked her watch. "Time’s moving on, it’s nearly four. I’m sure they’ve missed him by now. But enough about us — what happened with you two?"
Remus told her, in full detail, if quietly enough not to rouse the sleepers. When he got to his revenge on Curcio, Aletha had to press her hands over her mouth to stop herself laughing aloud. "You utter git," she said once she had settled down enough to say anything. "And of course, you didn’t bother to tell him that first of all, human-to-human transmission is extremely rare, and that second, for it to have even a chance of occurring, you would have to actually bite him, and do it on purpose!"
"Why should I tell him that?" Remus assumed his most innocent expression. "That would have ruined the whole point of it. As it is, I told him to see a Healer, and when he does, the Healer will tell him he’s not infected after all, so there’s no permanent harm done. But until then, he has to wallow in his own fear and disgust at what he believes he’s become."
"Oh, one of those, is he." Aletha’s face was highly annoyed. "I suppose part of it is where you grow up — and how — but people can learn, go beyond what they were taught as children. But there will always be some people who either can’t or don’t want to."
"May I ask you something?"
"Of course."
"I’ve always wondered — what were you thinking the day I told you? What went through your mind?"
Aletha nodded. "My first reaction was probably fear," she said. "That and surprise..."
"Our two main weapons are fear and surprise," interrupted Remus, "surprise and fear, and an almost fanatical devotion to the Pope, three, our three main weapons..."
Aletha reached into her bag, pulled out the comb again, and threw it at him. "If you don’t mind, I am trying to answer a serious question that you asked me, and that I assumed you wanted a serious answer to!"
Remus used his wand to retrieve the comb from its place on the floor, since he couldn’t bend down without disturbing Harry. "I do. But that was too good an opening to pass up." He tossed the comb back to her.
Aletha rolled her eyes. "As I was saying, I was a bit scared at first, and quite a bit surprised. I was trying to put together what I remembered from Defense Against the Dark Arts about werewolves with you, and it wasn’t adding up, but at the same time it was — the way you’d always disappear around the full moon and look terrible for a few days after..."
She smiled. "And then, of course, Danger came out with ‘There wolf, there castle’ and that reminded me of your sense of humor, the way you helped me prepare for my Defense O.W.L., all the good things I knew about you, and I realized none of that had changed. It wasn’t as if you chose to become a werewolf, and I knew perfectly well you weren’t evil, not even close. You were the same person I knew before — only now I knew a little more about you."
Remus nodded thoughtfully. "Thank you, Letha. As I said, I’d always wondered a little."
"Speaking of wondering, how’s Danger and Draco?"
"Asleep."
"Them too?"
"They have excuses. She used a lot of magic breaking into the Notts’ estate, and she thought she was going to get a nap there, but it so happened that the bedroom she chose to nap in was being used by a certain little fox, who came running back to pack his things when he heard there was an intruder, thinking it might well be one of us..."
"Which it was..."
"Exactly. Opportunity knocked, she answered, and they left right away. She had to Apparate them part of the way into the nearest town, and they walked the rest, so she was exhausted by the time she finally got on the train. And Draco hasn’t been sleeping very well — as you said about these two, he hasn’t felt really safe for three months, only in his case he knows why. So the two of them are napping on the train, and I’m to wake her at about five o’clock so they don’t miss their stop."
"That being the stop that will get them on the connection to us, correct?"
"Correct. And then we all ride until we get to where we’re going."
Aletha nodded sanctimoniously. "Sounds like a plan."
"Glad you think so."
They sat in companionable silence for a while. Remus noticed Aletha’s hand stroking Hermione’s hair over and over, and found himself drawn to listen to the slow, even rhythm of Harry’s breathing, and to remember other times when this same little boy had fallen asleep on his shoulder...
I think this is what they mean when they say "infatuated." Made into a fool.
He smiled. If I’m a fool, then I’m at least a fool for love.
The train rattled on.
xXxXx
The first person back into the library of the Holy Family Children’s Home, as luck would have it, was a sturdy matron who was seldom rattled by anything.
Not even by finding a naked man tied up on the floor.
It surprised her, but it would have been going too far to say it rattled her.
She did what any sensible woman would do in her situation. She looked him up and down, then turned around, left the room, and found the nearest phone, from which she called the police. They arrived fairly swiftly, and took the man into custody, providing some clothes for him first. He was charged with public indecency and trespassing, since no one could remember admitting anyone of his description to the building.
The matron also gave one of the officers a description of a missing child, a girl about ten, with rather bushy brown hair, who couldn’t speak. The officer promised to have it looked into.
As the police were escorting the trespasser, who hadn’t said a word, out of the courtyard, he broke free from them and ran around the corner. The pursuing officers found no trace of him, although they searched for nearly half an hour.
Finally, they shrugged their shoulders and gave up. Strange things sometimes happened in London.
xXxXx
Sirius Black paced up and down the small room. He was still somewhat euphoric from his discovery, but handicapped in his glee by the fact that he had no one to share it with. He could imagine his Packmates’ reactions, he could try to predict what they’d say, but he wanted them to truly be there, so that he could tell them what he’d found and watch them respond to the fact that all their hiding had finally paid off, and that they wouldn’t have to hide any more.
At least I hope not.
But honestly, what more will even the idiot authorities need? Peter’s here — alive — when by all the accounts, he should be dead — should have died that day, along with those twelve Muggles.
Sirius sighed. "Poor bastards," he said, talking aloud to himself as he continued to pace. "They didn’t have anything to do with the war — they were just going to work, or going out for a stroll, or to get a loaf of bread — they didn’t expect to get blown away by some scared little rat trying to cover his own arse."
He stopped to stare at said rat, who was quivering in his cage, which Minerva McGonagall had thoughtfully spelled Unbreakable, so that Wormtail couldn’t turn human and break out that way. "You thought you had the perfect cover," he said cheerily. "And you almost did, didn’t you? If it hadn’t been for one pretty girl and her dreams, you’d still be your carefree, chubby little rat self, and I’d still be rotting in Azkaban..."
He looked at Peter and thought hard about Azkaban. About the horror of being trapped in his worst memories, the parts of his life that he had always tried to forget or elide. Perhaps even worse, though, was knowing that he had better memories, that good things had happened to him, even being able to think about them — but they held no meaning for him. They were entries on a list, or things he had studied for a test. He had forgotten none of the events of his life, but if they held even a vestige of happiness, it was as if they had happened to someone else, and he knew only the bare facts about them...
Peter was huddled in a corner of the cage as far from Sirius as he could get, shuddering.
"That’s right, Petie," said Sirius softly. "Just get used to that pose. You’ll be using it a lot."
He returned to pacing and thinking. Suddenly he stopped. Most of his Packmates were inaccessible, or would be until they arrived late that night — but there was one within his reach, and one, moreover, who would be eagerly hoping for his arrival —
"Meghan," he said aloud. "I can get Meghan — I can bring her back here — she’ll be dying to come home, if I remember Frank’s mum right — dried-up old stick. I feel sorry for that boy. Have to remind Harry and Draco to be friendly to him..." He stopped, realizing he was babbling. "Anyway. I’ll get Meghan." He made a move towards the fireplace, then stopped. "After I use the men’s room."
It wouldn’t do to wet his pants in the Floo, after all.
He turned dog and hurried out of the office, being sure to close the door behind him.
xXxXx
Unfortunately for Sirius, Peter Pettigrew was cowardly and treacherous, but neither deaf nor entirely stupid, and possessed at the moment with the genius of desperation.
And Sirius had unintentionally given away far more than he meant to.
xXxXx
Minerva McGonagall returned to her office to find an extremely disturbing sight.
The wooden cage sat open on her desk. The rat within was gone.
This could mean one of three things, Minerva told herself, trying not to panic. It was possible that Percy Weasley had retrieved his pet, not knowing what she knew.
But would such a law-abiding boy trespass in a teacher’s office, even for a beloved pet?
Sirius might have removed him, to do heaven only knew what...
But no. Sirius might want revenge, but he knew probably better than any man living the horrors of Azkaban, and he would want that for his enemy, rather than the relative mercy of death or even torture.
Which left her with the third, and worst, possibility.
Somehow, Pettigrew had escaped.
The door opened behind her. Sirius, in dog form, came trotting in. "I had an idea," he said as soon as he’d retransformed. "Suppose I — what’s wrong?" He had just noticed the look on her face.
Wordlessly, Minerva pointed to the cage.
Sirius’ face became livid for a brief instant, before the rage was replaced with an utter calm Minerva found even more disturbing. "I know a way to find out if he’s still on the grounds," he said quietly. "I’ll be back in five minutes."
When he returned, he had a tattered piece of parchment in his mouth. Minerva took it from him, somewhat baffled.
"May I borrow your wand, please?" Sirius requested, changing back to human. "It needs to be activated."
Minerva handed it over and watched as Sirius touched its tip to the parchment and muttered something. Then she stared as the parchment revealed its true nature.
"We made this when we were in school," said Sirius absently, scanning the Map. "As far as we know, it never lies. If he’s on the grounds, this’ll find him — ah-ha!" It was an explosion of sound. "There, he’s in the kitchens." He planted a finger on the Map, then moved it so Minerva could see.
The ink dot labeled "Peter Pettigrew" was indeed in the kitchens, standing beside the fireplace. As Minerva and Sirius watched, a word bubble appeared next to it. "Longbottom House," Minerva read aloud.
Then the dot was gone.
Sirius swore, jumping up. "He Flooed out — the dirty bastard Flooed out of here! But why would he go to—" He stopped, and Minerva saw him go almost completely dead-white. "Is your fireplace on the Network?" he demanded, staring at her. "Is it?"
"Yes, of course, but why—"
"Do you have Floo powder in here?"
"On the mantel. What—"
Sirius was beside the fireplace, grabbing a pinch of Floo powder.
"Tell me what’s going on," Minerva demanded.
Sirius looked at her as if she were mad and said three words that brought understanding crashing down on her.
"He’s after Meghan."
And then he was gone —
And he still had her wand, Minerva recalled after a rather shaken moment.
Well, as long as he doesn’t break it or use it to kill Pettigrew —
But with a sudden chill, she realized that she wouldn’t mind the second half of that sentence coming true nearly as much as she should.
As long as the child is safe.
Meghan had her father’s charm, her mother’s poise, and a sense of humor all her own, which made her almost entirely irresistible. She would be quite a heartbreaker when she got to school, Minerva knew.
If she lives that long.
The chill was greater this time.
xXxXx
Wormtail scurried into the greenhouse, following the scent of little girl.
He had been able, just barely, to reach and trip the latch on his cage with a paw, once he had the incentive to do so. And Sirius had provided that incentive by more or less telling him where Meghan — his daughter, Wormtail assumed — was staying. He had only ever known one Frank — Frank Longbottom.
Once out of the cage, Wormtail had run for the kitchens, since he knew the fireplace there was hooked up to the Floo Network, and that Floo powder was kept there for the convenience of the faculty. The Marauders had used it once or twice for some of their more outrageous pranks.
His plan was simple. He’d take the girl hostage and wait until Sirius came to retrieve her — it shouldn’t take long — then make a deal. The child’s freedom in exchange for his own.
He didn’t intend to hurt her. On the contrary. He recalled how protective Sirius had been of Harry, who was only his godson — he was sure that protectiveness would be redoubled for Sirius’ own daughter. So he wouldn’t harm a hair on her head. He would simply take her and Apparate away, leaving a note for Sirius.
Where should he go? The old cave where the Marauders had sometimes had picnics came to mind, outside Hogsmeade — it had the advantage of being close to where he had come from, so that Sirius would have more trouble thinking to look there...
He heard children’s voices and stopped, peering around a flowerpot. Yes, there she was. The image of Aletha Freeman, if his rat’s eyes could be trusted. And talking animatedly with Frank and Alice Longbottom’s son...
Memories of Order days threatened to overcome him, and he had to force them down. They mean nothing to me, he reminded himself. I have another master now. I serve him and only him. I care nothing for those in his way. They will serve him or they will fall.
Wormtail prepared to make his move.
xXxXx
Sirius fell out of the fireplace at Longbottom House with a thud.
Graceful, Padfoot. Nice work.
He looked up to find himself facing the business end of a wand.
"Change back," snapped the witch holding the wand. "I know you’re no dog, dogs can’t use the Floo. Change back now."
Can this go any more wrong?
Sirius sighed and changed.
"You!" Augusta Longbottom’s eyes narrowed. "Here to try and steal that girl, are you?"
"No, I’m here to protect her."
"She doesn’t need protecting. Except from you. She’s perfectly all right where she is..."
Someone screamed in the greenhouse, and there was the sound of several things breaking.
"You were saying?" snapped Sirius.
"Gran!" shouted a boy’s frantic voice. "Come quick!"
"There’s a madman in your house, Mrs. Longbottom, and he’s after my daughter," said Sirius sharply. "Are you going to help me stop him or not?"
Instead of answering, Mrs. Longbottom turned and ran for the greenhouse. Sirius pulled himself quickly to his feet and followed.
"Don’t move!" Peter’s voice arrested him as he came into the glass enclosure. "Don’t move or she dies."
Sirius stopped in his tracks, taking in the sight. Peter had apparently smashed a few of the numerous flowerpots, since there were shards of pottery all around.
Including the one in his hand with the sharp edge pressed against Meghan’s neck.
"You wouldn’t dare." Sirius heard his own voice as if it were someone else’s, and noted as if in a dream the growling undertones that betokened both anger and fear. Meghan’s eyes were filled with terror and pleading, and Sirius wished desperately that he could reassure her, that he could tell her it would be all right...
"One move is all it takes." Peter sounded half-bold, half-scared out of his wits. "Put your wands down and I’ll let her go."
Sirius glanced sideways at Mrs. Longbottom. She, too, was glaring furiously at Peter — no, she was glaring past him — what was she looking at?
He shifted his gaze past Wormtail for just an instant, and suddenly understood.
"All right," he said. "We’ll put them down on three. One... two... three."
He and Mrs. Longbottom dropped their wands.
Peter released Meghan and shoved her away from him, standing in the pose of a man about to Disapparate —
Then he was screaming and clawing at the back of his head, trying to dislodge whatever it was that was biting at his ears and his hair.
Sirius transformed and charged at Wormtail, knocking him flat — but Peter wasn’t finished yet. His hand came up and jabbed Sirius in the side with the sharp pot shard, and Sirius yelped and rolled away from Peter, who scrambled to his feet again, dislodging the Omnivorous Snapdragon that had been nipping at his head —
Then it was Peter’s turn to yelp, as Meghan stabbed him in the leg with another pot shard. He tried to kick her, but she scrambled away —
And Augusta Longbottom felled him from behind with a flowerpot to the head.
Neville, very pale, emerged from his hiding place, behind the rank of plants where he’d gotten the Snapdragon from and thrown it at Wormtail. Sirius turned human again and pulled his shirt out to check on the gash in his side. It was bleeding pretty freely, but he didn’t think it was a problem. He’d get Letha to look at it when she got back.
"Dadfoot!"
Besides, he had other things to think about at the moment.
Like holding his Pearl like he’d never let her go.