Foes may Condemn

CHAPTER FIVE

Foes may Condemn

Tuesday 4 – Wednesday 5 September 1990

Carlton, Nottingham; Llangollen, Vale of Clwyd.

When he who adores thee has left but the name

I have been but too faithful to thee.

– Thomas Moore (1779-1852): "When He who Adores Thee"

Rated PG for threats and drugs.

On the first day of term, Remus stood in front of his new classroom in the suburb of Carlton with a feeling that he had seen everything before. The class register had revealed that it was the same class that he had taught as a student on his third teaching round. Since the children were now in Year Six, they must be ten years old: Harry Potter's age.

Muggle teachers were supposed to start the day with maths or English, but Remus remembered how his most respected teachers had captured their classes' attention by making their first lesson unusual – Professor McGonagall had turned her desk into a pig. So he brought out a ceramic pot as soon as he had finished calling the register.

"Who can tell me what this is?"

Nothing had changed: it was Jacqueline Sutton whose hand shot into the air first. "It's an Egyptian jar. The Ancient Egyptians used that kind of pot to store embalmed body organs."

"Well done, Jacqueline. How did you know it was Egyptian?"

"It's carved with Egyptian gods. That's Horus with the bird-head, Ra with the sun and Anubis as a jackal... and that's the ankh."

After Jacqueline had explained, not quite accurately, that the ankh was a letter of the Egyptian alphabet, Jonathan Miller asked, "Did it come from the Pyramids, sir? Did you dig it up yourself?"

"Silly, teachers don't have time to go digging," said Wayne Elliott. "Mr Lupin must have bought it from the British Museum."

"Wow, it must have cost thousands and millions of pounds."

"Actually, it didn't," said Remus. "This is only a replica – not a real artefact at all." If he didn't mention that he had made the pot himself, copied from a picture in a library book, by Transfiguring a milk bottle, the children might assume he had bought it at a cheap gift shop. "But the Ancient Egyptians did make pots like this one and they used them to store parts of dead bodies. Take a good look." He brought more pots out from behind his desk (the milkman must be wondering why the Lupins hadn't put out any bottles for three days) and passed them around to the children's tables.

"That's disgusting," said Jessica Glover. "It would stink."

"Imagine if they started cutting the parts out before the person was properly dead," said Katharine Phillips.

Remus circled the tables cautiously, hoping to gauge how interested the children were in fake canopic jars. Wayne Elliott's pencil box was still black and white, and he still owned a Mr Magpie key ring. Jonathan Miller still had the same old Concorde box and for good measure he was wearing a T-shirt featuring the Red Baron's triplane. Autumn Silverstone's sliding-lid cedarwood box still displayed a careful selection of healing crystals: amethyst for inner peace and contentment, jade for a harmonious negotiation with the outer world and amber for intellectual stimulation. Terry Boot, whom Remus remembered as tense and frustrated, now seemed relaxed and confident. The hologrammed image on his pencil box showed doves fluttering around a fish-outline that enclosed the Greek word ICQUS.

"This whole thing isn't right," said Mark Fletcher. "They didn't put dead people in pots; they made mummies."

"And the mummies had a curse," announced Bradley Nicholls. "People who break into pyramids always die within a year."

Remus was taken aback for a moment. The Ancient Egyptian curses laid against tomb violators were Statute-protected information; Muggles weren't supposed to believe in them. Thank goodness Bradley had a wrong idea about the exact terms of the average Pyramid Curse. It seemed a good moment to ask the children what they already knew about Ancient Egypt, and he must tread a delicate balance between protecting the Statute of Secrecy and outright lying.

"So you all know something," he said. "Let's write up what we already know about Ancient Egypt." He divided the whiteboard into sections, and the children were able to contribute ideas about death, the gods, daily life and "myths".

Gershom Wallace had nothing to say but he was very taken by the image of the ankh and was copying it into his notebook. He drew six neat columns, row after row, of identical ankhs.

"Sir, Gershom isn't listening!" reported Jacqueline Sutton. "He isn't thinking about Egypt, he's just drawing it."

"The Egyptians liked to draw," offered Gershom, apparently unaware that he had been snubbed.

Gershom's student record now contained a psychologist's report, explaining that he suffered from Asperger's Syndrome. Remus wasn't sure what this meant, but he had always known that Gershom organised his world-view quite differently from anyone else.

"The Egyptians had some good artists," Remus confirmed. "What does anyone else know?"

Dolly Clott, harbouring some dim impression of Jacqueline's original comment, contributed that the Egyptians had played the organ.

"Dolly," hissed Jacqueline, "you are stupid."

Terry Boot lolled back in his chair and stroked his pencil case, apparently relaxed, but there was a guarded look on his face.

The student records had already informed Remus that Dolly Clott still couldn't read. However, unlike Gershom, Dolly did know when she was being snubbed. She flushed crimson but she could not tear her eyes away from Jacqueline Sutton's frown. She opened her mouth, closed it silently, then opened it again.

"And... uh... they kept their water in pots?"

Jacqueline clapped her hands over her mouth in contrived merriment. The other girls, taking their cue, also tittered. Dolly's eyes filled with tears, while Terry's narrowed dangerously.

Remus lunged forward and grabbed the fake canopic jar before it toppled onto the floor.

Terry Boot was still prone to bouts of accidental magic.

* * * * * * *

They indulged in the history project all day, but Remus left high piles of maths and English sheets for tomorrow, for tonight, as luck would have it, was the full moon. He feigned a headache even before the school day ended to give the other teachers time to advise him to go home immediately while they called in a relief teacher.

But he did not go home, for his house would be empty tonight. As soon as he was alone in the corridor, he Disapparated to a white stone cottage in the Vale of Clwyd. His knock on the front door was opened by Hestia Jones, who was carrying his daughter Elizabeth in her arms.

"Come in, Remus. Most of them are here already. I'm keeping the children in the front with me, but Ariadne's hard at work in the kitchen – I expect she'd like some help."

He must ask Ariadne whether Hestia was being tactful or just naïve; he still hadn't worked out whether she knew about his lycanthropy. It couldn't remain a secret for much longer, however; the werewolf community was now utterly dependent on Ariadne's personal friends to maintain its connection with the Wolfsbane Potion.

Last month they had Flooed to Kingsley Shacklebolt's house, and Ariadne had set up her brewing station in his kitchen. Kingsley had spent most of that week at work, politely pretending not to know the identities of any of his guests. On the night of the full moon, Kingsley had gone out to decoy that tabloid journalist while fourteen of the werewolves had spread themselves out to sleep in his lounge and spare bedroom.

"But it's not ideal," said Ariadne. "None of the Muggle werewolves is connected to the Floo, and several of the former Sylvanians are missing."

Hestia's kitchen ran the full width of the back half of her cottage. As he entered, Remus saw that it was full of milling bodies; they had managed a better turn-out this month. Cinnamon-scented steam was rising from the iron cauldron that dominated Hestia's huge, old-fashioned hearth. Ariadne did not attempt to speak above the chatter of their companions, but she poured him his dose and marked him off on her record sheet.

Remus gulped the medicine. Ariadne had worked hard on its taste; after much trial and error, she had discovered last year that a simple infusion of peppermint greatly improved the flavour without disturbing the active ingredients. This improved version of the Wolfsbane Potion tasted fairly pleasant.

"Rrrremus!" shouted Connell Dewar. "You'rrre hoom frrrom worrruk!"

"I'm glad you managed to come too, Con. Have you had to take a bus all the way from Perthshire every day this week?"

"Eh hev not. What are frrriends forrr? Noo, Eh took the boos to Katrrrina Varrrg's house in Glesgoo, and Eh've been bidin' with herrr. We've been takin' the Floo togetherrr everrry day."

Remus counted the guests. "It looks as if everyone's here. That's twenty-three... I make twenty-four of us."

"Last moonth was verrry bed, withoot the medicine." Connell drank from a glass of ordinary orange juice. "We'rrre needin' to fehnd a way to brrring all the werrrawoluves to Errryednee everrry moonth, even if Healerrr Smetheck is in prrrison. Oos Mooggle werrrawoluves hev been askin' ourrr megickel frrriends to help oos, but soom of the wizarrrds also lev in houses without Floo."

Almost unconsciously, Connell's glance strayed to Latona Wildclaw, who was sitting quietly at the kitchen table. Remus greeted her.

"Thank you very much for speaking up for Healer Smethwyck at his trial, Latona."

Latona tried to smile. "It didn't do much good, did it? He's been convicted."

"For now. Convictions can be overturned." Remus hoped he sounded more optimistic than he felt. "You risked your life to tell the truth. We are grateful to you for that. Where is Tala this evening?"

Latona jerked her head across the room. "My sister isn't speaking to me. She says I was careless with all our lives. Our leaving the Sylvanians hasn't been as easy as Tala hoped, Remus. Greyback will kill us if we go back to him, but we aren't popular with respectable people either. It isn't quite illegal to be a Sylvanian, but the Ministry of Magic has already given us an official warning about our 'past suspicious activities'. Our parents won't take us back, and people on the Werewolf Registry can't find work among wizards, so we have to live like Muggles. Tala sells baby clothes at that Muggle shop – Smarks and Parks – and I deliver newspapers. She says I should work longer hours, but I can't find work easily. I can't even read."

"I can teach you to read," said Remus automatically. "Well... perhaps not tonight. How did you and Tala manage to come here this week? Do you have Floo in your house?"

"No, but we're quite good at Apparating. Greyback taught us that. Is it true that you need a licence to Apparate? I don't suppose the Ministry would grant one to a werewolf."

They were interrupted by an explosion from the other end of the table. Ivor was playing Snap with three excited child-werewolves. Bran, Veretica and Alvin were among Greyback's most recent victims; they had all been bitten after Healer Smethwyck had taken over the brewing of the Wolfsbane Potion. There had never been any question of sending these children to the Sylvanians; their families had been glad to take advantage of the new medication.

Of course, it was only a matter of time before Greyback realised that he was losing his victims. Remus knew that Greyback must eventually find out about the potion that would destroy his life's work.

Ivor looked up from the table. "Have you had your medicine, Remus?"

So Ivor did know. "Yes. Thanks for letting all these people use your house, Ivor."

Ivor led Remus over to the Welsh dresser, away from the noisy chatter, and Conjured spindle-backed chairs for both of them. "Our pleasure. You wouldn't have been doing anyone any favours by offering your own house, since Ariadne's already too heavily implicated in the whole business – it's the first place where the spies will come looking. Hestia's keeping Matthew and Elizabeth with her so that they won't see anything too alarming. We'll take dinner out to them. But, Remus, I do need to ask you... How much longer do you think we can carry on like this?"

Remus had been asking himself the same question. "How long can how many of our friends tolerate this hotel game? Sarah and Richard have both volunteered for next month. But Richard is Dempster Wiggleswade's brother-in-law, and Sarah's flat is in Diagon Alley, right at the hub of all magical activity. Neither of them is a particularly safe choice if there's any chance that the Ministry is keeping tabs on this situation."

"I haven't managed to find out whether the Ministry is tracking werewolves," said Ivor. "It's been difficult to enquire without seeming too interested. But if tracking is already happening, then there isn't a safe place anywhere in Britain. Floo usage can be monitored, and if it's seen that twenty-four werewolves are all converging on the same house at full moon... that will look suspicious no matter whose house it is."

"Had you thought of that when you offered to help us?" Remus asked.

"Of course we had. Remus, I don't think there's any doubt that one of us will be arrested eventually." Bast jumped up onto Ivor's lap. He stroked her, and continued speaking very calmly. "Smethwyck has managed to deflect suspicion from Ariadne for the time being, but once someone works out that she's married to a werewolf, neither of you will be safe. Hestia knows that I'm the next in line for scapegoating, since I work with goblins and I've had a bad report from the Macnair family. I'm expecting to see the inside of Azkaban within twelve months."

"So you've counted the cost." That seemed very inadequate. "Ivor, we do hope to improve the situation, both for Healer Smethwyck and for werewolves, but we're rather stumped for inspiration. An outright cure for lycanthropy is probably twenty years away. If we're to have Wolfsbane Potion legal before then, we'll need to make it socially respectable. That isn't looking very likely at present. There are at least forty-six werewolves still running around the forests with Fenrir Greyback, which isn't exactly a good advertisement for the potion as a cure for terrorism."

"How many former Sylvanians are sitting in this kitchen?"

"Ten. The rest of us either weren't Greyback victims or else we chose not to join him. In fact, you're currently entertaining every non-Sylvanian werewolf in the British Isles."

"So the Wolfsbane Potion has enticed ten Sylvanians to leave the forest."

Remus had already turned this over in his mind a hundred times. "It's kind of you to see it that way, but I doubt the Ministry would accept that all ten were truly reformed."

"They certainly don't look bourgeois," Ivor conceded. "Clothes, grooming, speech, manners, employment... lack of... and family connections... ditto..." Dressed in business robes and Gringotts name tag and seated in front of Hestia's antique plates, Ivor looked by far the most conventional person in the room. "I agree; if you want to make Wolfsbane Potion appear safe and respectable to the Wizengamot, I don't think you can count on our friends here to make a good impression."

"So what do you have in mind?"

Ivor shook his head. "It's one thing to hide werewolves in my house. It's quite another to change society so that werewolves won't need to be hidden. The only thing I really know about society is that it runs on money. The more of it you have, the more people you can influence. If I had a trillion Galleons, I might be able to buy out the Wizengamot and change the law by the power of corruption."

Remus knew when Ivor was joking, but he still had nothing to say.

"Seriously, Remus. Most people assume that what is legal is socially acceptable, and what is socially acceptable is morally right."

"Doesn't it ever happen in the other direction? What is right can change social attitudes, and what society demands, the law will feel obliged to provide."

"It certainly ought to happen in that direction, but it's much more difficult to drive. And it usually takes even more money to underwrite."

Since Ivor didn't have enough money to corrupt anyone, Remus had nothing to say to that either.

"Did Smethwyck give you any ideas?" Ivor asked. "He must have given some thought to how he plans to get himself out of Azkaban."

"Ariadne is reading some book that Smethwyck gave her," said Remus. "But it doesn't seem to have much to do with werewolves or with the law. Apparently Smethwyck hinted that it might hold the key to helping her friend Veleta."

Ivor commiserated for a while on the problem of idealistic people who celebrated the shattering of their own world by adopting yet another hopeless cause. He had the tact to exit his kitchen before the moon rose.

* * * * * * *

"Daddy! I'm want Daddy!"

Remus jolted awake. Afternoon sunshine was streaming into the Joneses' kitchen, and someone had Conjured a sleeping bag around him. He forced himself into a sitting position; his muscles were very stiff, probably because his human mind had continued to worry inside the wolf's body. Half a dozen other werewolves were still sleeping, but the rest, it appeared, were awake and active. No wonder Matthew was demanding that Remus should join them.

"Daddy can't keep on sleeping. I'm want him!"

It hurt to stand up, but after that Remus made his way to the door easily. Matthew was standing in the hall, arguing his case with Ariadne, who was sitting on the stairs to feed Elizabeth. Since she had no spare arms to restrain their son, Matthew was close to winning the argument.

"I'm going! I'm want Daddy!"

"Oh, you want to disturb the sleeping dogs, do you?" Remus lifted Matthew from behind and swung him up into the air. "Did you know that there are six people still quietly sleeping in the kitchen?"

"Daddy!"

"Yes, Daddy's woken up, but those other people need quiet."

"Ivor's gone to work," said Ariadne, "but Hestia's yet taking annual leave so she can help us tidy up. Dearest, you've had a difficult Transformation, have you not? What's worrying you?"

"I wasn't able to shut up the endless mental nagging that it wouldn't take much provocation for the Ministry to become very interested in us... that we've led all our friends into danger."

"And not only the Ministry," said Ariadne soberly. "I was talking to Tiwaz Longpelt over lunch, and he told me... something that we're all needing to know."

Remus couldn't remember much about Tiwaz, who had only been taking the Wolfsbane Potion since June. "Wasn't he a Sylvanian?"

"He was. And I've always felt that he was... completely sincere about wishing to leave the forest, but perhaps... not wise to his own best interests. Today I asked him about how he was settling back into urban life, and he told me he was biding with an uncle. It came out in the conversation that Tiwaz Longpelt is a cousin of Jason Borage."

Remus sat down on the floor. He held Matthew aloft, positioned like a flying bird, and said, "You're a phoenix. You're flying all the way up the chimney and over the tree-tops to Hogwarts. Ariadne, what are you saying about Tiwaz being Jason's cousin?"

"Tiwaz was quite open about it. Apparently Jason sought him out in the forest last May... the day after he began working for Healer Smethwyck. He told Tiwaz about the Wolfsbane Potion and urged him to leave the Sylvanians. Tiwaz was glad enough to go, but he tried to persuade a friend to leave with him. The other man wanted to bide in the forest and he threatened to report the defection to Fenrir Greyback. Tiwaz says he did not wait to hear the outcome of that discussion; he just ran. He reached his uncle's house safely but he's been living in terror that Greyback will come looking for him."

"Is there any evidence that Greyback has been trying to track down the defectors?"

"I'm thinking there is." Ariadne fastened her robe and began to burp Elizabeth. "I asked Tiwaz what Mr Greyback looks like and the description he gave... a large and gangling man, matted grey hair and moustache, broken nose, rasping voice... it exactly fitted the stranger who came to St Mungo's in July to ask for Wolfsbane Potion. That man had to be Fenrir Greyback."

"So we always suspected," said Remus. "Do you think, then, that Greyback didn't really want the Wolfsbane Potion at all? Could his real aim have been to find apostate Sylvanians and punish them?"

"He maybe hoped for both," said Ariadne. "Taking the potion would have made it easy for him to attack whomever he chose. Tiwaz says that Greyback has been suspecting for many months that somebody has been enticing his werewolves away from him, but it was difficult for those in the forest to learn exactly what was happening. Once a Sylvanian defects, he does not return to the forest or even leave an indication that he's yet living. Greyback had to wait for a werewolf to refuse the invitation to defect – as Tiwaz's friend did – before he could know that the challenge to his authority is a potion."

"Do you think Greyback is still hoping to obtain the potion?"

"Most probably. He did not work out where we are this month, but he will not give up the hunt easily." Her arms were involuntarily tightening around her baby. "I'm thinking it's inevitable that Mr Greyback will arrive on our doorstep one day."

Remus tried to put the pieces together. "You said weeks ago that there was an unsavoury coincidence in this. The month when Greyback asks for Wolfsbane Potion is the same month when a mistake is made and Lycaonia dies."

"It's seeming that Jason Borage is the link between the two events. He was not knowing enough about herbs to bring up the right ingredient for the potion, and he was not knowing enough about human nature to be wise in the way he invited his cousin to join us. And Tiwaz Longpelt is no wiser. Neither of them is intending to hurt anybody but they're not knowing... when to stop talking. Too much has perhaps been said already."

"Or listened to," said Remus. "It sounds as if both cousins are too trusting. An old packmate has only to say that he's left the Sylvanians and wants medication, and our friends will feel morally obliged to introduce him to you. Once a spy has learned about our operations, he can pass the whole story back to Greyback days before the full moon actually rises."

She nodded. "Hestia's understanding that, Remus. She was knowing most of the risks when she agreed to help us. The only mystery is whether it will be Fenrir Greyback or the Ministry of Magic that discovers our guilty secret first. But never mind. We've been safe for this month. By next month, our research will maybe have progressed."

He was glad she managed to be so serene about it. From now on, they would truly be surviving from month to month.