High are their Hopes

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

High are their Hopes

Saturday 16 May – Friday 26 June 1992

Random villages in the Carpathian Mountains, Transylvania; Czíkszereda, Transylvania; Old Basford, Nottingham, England.

The moon has arisen, it shines on the path

That whatever men dare, they can do.

– Scottish folk song: "The March of the Cameron Men"

PG for violence.

Remus and Füvessy uram stepped out of the Floo network into the middle of the forest. The grate that served Tárvajtód was not sheltered by even a crude attempt at a building – it was simply planted between two hornbeams. The two wizards Apparated towards the cluster of houses, confident that no Muggle in these surroundings would bat an eyelid. They had no way of knowing which house belonged to Bosszu Hajnalka, but she was presumably outdoors; if she intended to spend the night at home, then Ariadne had misjudged, and there was no danger anyway.

"Ott!" Remus spotted her. Since Bosszu kisasszony might recognise him, he stood back in Füvessy uram's shadow. But he need not have worried. Bosszu kisasszony was completely focused on whatever her own business was; she was walking towards the sunset without a thought for any outsiders.

She stopped on the edge of the forest and stood still, as if waiting for something to happen – presumably the moonrise. She was interested in the sky, but Remus was interested in her, so it was a shock when the first moonbeam struck him. His muscles contorted sharply; while Ariadne's potions reduced the pain considerably, they did not eliminate the discomfort completely. He dropped to all fours almost before he was aware that he was now four-legged, and breathed in the odour of the she-wolf ahead of him.

Her scent was unpleasant, unquestionably wolf, but stale and sour. Remus knew she could not avoid smelling him eventually, but the wind was in his favour, and she was racing ahead with a deliberation that suggested she knew her destination. He followed at a distance, while Füvessy uram tracked them both through a series of short Apparitions.

Inevitably, her destination was another village, green fields surrounding red roofs surrounding a fortified kirk, just like Tárvajtód and Szirtes. The full moon gave the only light by the time she sprang into the village; Füvessy uram waited until she had disappeared between two cottages and then Apparated after her.

She must have known that there was another wolf behind her on the cobbled streets, but she didn't seem to care. She stopped outside a blue-painted door, paused, and then hurled herself against the wood.

Remus raced across the cobbles to slam himself against her. He had no idea why she was attacking this household, but if these people were unwilling to open their door to her, then an assault it certainly was. Hajnalka was, as Ariadne had predicted, a larger wolf than himself, and she was soon holding him to the ground, her fangs piercing his flesh at painful angles. However, his presence had distracted her from her original intention, and she would be unlikely to resume her assault on the Muggles' door before she had dealt with him.

"Stupefy!" Hajnalka slumped in surprise – she hadn't reckoned with Füvessy uram. It took three Stunners to knock her out completely, and even then it was slow work for Remus to edge himself out from underneath her dead weight.

Füvessy uram placed some repairing and reinforcing spells on the door, then sat down on the street beside Remus. He suggested, in careful Latin, that they wait for Hajnalka to awaken before attempting anything else.

She was out cold for over an hour, so that Remus was almost tempted to go to sleep. They could just keep her Stunned until morning, but then she would simply launch a fresh attack next month. Since they could not spend the rest of their lives tracking her, they needed to goad her into betraying her real intentions tonight – preferably in front of witnesses – so that they had a valid reason for never giving her Wolfsbane Potion again.

When Hajnalka finally stirred, she almost immediately released the scent of malice. Remus backed away – and then leaped into the main street as he smelled, rather than heard, that she was bounding after him. Whatever her original goal, she had decided to fight him off first. If he could maintain the chase all night, he could keep her away from the Muggles altogether.

So he sprinted through the forest, not knowing where he himself was going, unaware of whether Füvessy uram was managing to keep pace, but very aware that he was nowhere near losing Hajnalka. He didn't need to keep her on his trail; he couldn't have lost her had he wished to, for she was larger, stronger and swifter, and she had the advantage of knowing the forest.

Hardly aware of why he was doing it, Remus lured her back to Szirtes. He knew that seven or eight other werewolves had planned to spend the night there, as if the sight of Ariadne's cauldron provided a comforting landmark. They would witness... what? As Szirtes loomed into sight, Remus only hoped that the werewolves had kept to their plan. He bounded towards the barn, with Hajnalka still giving chase, and skidded to a halt outside the doorway. He wasn't sure what to do next, but he saw through the open door that the other wolves were inside and most of them were awake.

Hajnalka did not hesitate. She pounced onto Remus and once again knocked him to the ground, through the doorway, and onto the floor of the barn. He fell heavily onto another wolf's tail. He remembered not to howl; to awaken the villagers would be to call down doom on the Wolfsbane Potion. But Hajnalka was biting into his shoulder again, into the same muscle as last time, and her own yelps were making quite enough noise. Through the searing pain, he had a moment of doubt: would his witnesses manage to rescue him in time?

Then the other wolves charged Hajnalka. She was larger than all of them, but she was only one, and it seemed she had no allies among her fellow werewolves. They too were trying to be quiet, but there were thumps and shoves and more than one bite. Remus felt Hajnalka's jaws ripping into his flesh... and then she was roughly shoved aside. It was really only a matter of minutes before the others had her pinned to the ground.

Red light flashed, and Hajnalka slumped to the barn floor. Füvessy uram had arrived.

And so began a very long wait, with every werewolf alert, except Hajnalka, whom Füvessy uram patiently re-Stunned every time she stirred. He made a light and checked each of them for injuries, but there was really nothing he could do; no-one was dying, and in the time it would take him to fetch his first aid box from Czíkszereda, Hajnalka might recover her senses and bound off to continue her attack on the Muggles. Remus lay in the dark, stiff and sore, not daring to indicate the damage to his shoulder.

As the sun rose, the werewolves sat up in their human forms. Füvessy uram noticed the gash on Remus's shoulder, said he would fetch Ariadne immediately, and Disapparated.

Bosszu Hajnalka glowered at Remus. "Mindent elrontottál," she accused him. She began shouting her story to anyone who might be disposed to listen.

As far as Remus could make out, some boyfriend had rejected her twenty years ago, soon after she became a werewolf. Last night, finally in possession of both a wolf's body and a human mind, she had planned her grand revenge. And Remus had sabotaged her life-goals by his officious interference in her business.

* * * * * * *

Ariadne arrived with the first aid box and began to dress Remus's shoulder with yarrow lotion. Hajnalka transferred her glower to Ariadne and continued to speak her mind. Even with his limited Hungarian, Remus didn't think he would ever wipe from his memory the vulgar accusations that Bosszu Hajnalka heaped upon Ariadne.

Ariadne looked around the barn for her supplies and her face fell. "Oh, dear..." She indicated a trail of powdered herbs that had burst over the floor. "How will we convince the Mágiaügyi Minisztérium that Wolfsbane Potion produces calm, civilised behaviour?" She picked up a strip of leather.

Remus realised that it was part of their rucksack, which had once been Aunt Macmillan's suitcase. In last night's scuffle, the leather had been savaged. Or perhaps Bosszu Hajnalka had done it deliberately, angry with the ingredients composing a potion that had failed to address her own requirements.

Füvessy uram Conjured a broom and swept the herbs out into the field. Remus helped Ariadne to gather the remains of the suitcase. He was too weak to Apparate, but Ariadne and Füvessy uram helped him through the Floo to the inn at Czíkszereda. They stumbled into their room, thanked Füvessy asszony for watching their children, and collapsed onto the bed.

"That is one client to whom I'll never again serve Wolfsbane Potion," said Ariadne.

Remus had no need to voice his thoughts. They both knew what might have happened last night if Füvessy uram hadn't been there. Usually a werewolf had to be left free to commit the whole crime – to abuse the Wolfsbane Potion – before he could be deemed unworthy of it. Unless, of course, the Potion were legal and under the control of qualified medical staff.

Ariadne began to peel his robe back from his shoulder. "You're needing to see a Healer about this."

"Tomorrow. Today I'm too tired."

"It might be septic tomorrow. There's maybe a hospital in Budapest. Füvessy uram can give us the grate address."

Remus wanted to close his eyes against the world and keep Ariadne near him. But the children were awakening, with threats of bringing the world right into his bed, so Ariadne went away to look after them.

When he awoke again, it was mid-afternoon, and the world had changed. Ariadne was sitting by the window, looking ecstatic as she read something. She, or perhaps Füvessy uram, had tried to repair the suitcase. It was now definitely a suitcase and not a rucksack, but it had been patched together very awkwardly, and the black lettering was peeling off, and the clasp didn't seem to work at all. There was no sign of spare herbs or clothes lying around the rented room, but the suitcase was bulging. Ariadne must have packed; were they returning to the mountains already? He groaned, and reached out in hope of finding a glass of water.

Ariadne immediately brought him one. "How is your shoulder?"

"Better," he lied. It was still weeping, and Ariadne began to dress it with more yarrow. "We don't have to leave here already, do we?"

"We're not needing to. But while you were sleeping... two things happened."

He fell back on his pillows, letting her out of focus so that her eyes became two blue pools. "Will I regret asking you about them?"

"You will not." She sat on the edge of the bed. "The first thing is, your adventure with Hajnalka became the talk of Szirtes. People have been Flooing all over Transylvania all day to tell one another the story of the wicked werewolf who deliberately abused the new medicine from Czíkszereda in order to take revenge on her rejecting lover. It's seeming... nobody is interested in a new medicine on its own account. But if we can add romance and violence to the story, it's suddenly newsworthy. The story finishes with the naming of the seven werewolves who stood up for human decency by restraining Hajnalka. So now every Székely is knowing about the potion, and believing it would make them safer from werewolves, provided the distribution were monitored well enough to restrain those with criminal intent. People from all over the province have been visiting Füvessy uram to ask him why he never brought it to the werewolves in their families."

"What?... The gossipmongers have done our work for us?"

"Füvessy uram is saying that this is a good time to enlist the support of the Mágiaügyi Minisztérium. He already has ninety-four signatures on a petition. If he reminds them that werewolves should be both dosed and restrained, they might grant a patent in time to authorise next month's brew."

Remus lay back, once again feeling that he had missed half the story. Between closing his eyes and opening them, a whole country had reversed its age-old policy. Finally he asked, "What was the other thing that happened?"

Ariadne's face burst with the smile of the seraphs. "I had an owl from Hestia. And then from Mercy... and Kingsley... and the Campions... and Emmeline. They all sent exactly the same cutting from yesterday's Daily Prophet." She unfolded the page that she had been reading earlier. "Can you read?"

"Read it to me."

PIONEERING HEALER PARDONED

The Ministry of Magic yesterday granted a free pardon to Hippocrates Smethwyck, the Healer who pioneered the distribution of the Wolfsbane Potion.

Healer Smethwyck, 96, devoted three years to succouring Britain's most desperate werewolves by secretly brewing Wolfsbane Potion on the premises of St Mungo's Hospital. This enabled the werewolves to keep their human minds throughout the full moon period, despite having the bodies of wolves. Since the potion was illegal at the time, Healer Smethwyck paid the price of all visionaries and was sentenced to a term in Azkaban.

"The Wolfsbane Potion represented our safety," says Mediwizard Jason Borage, 21, who used to assist Healer Smethwyck in distributing the potion. "Under its influence, the werewolves were as safe as pet dogs. Healer Smethwyck used to insist that they spend the night in a locked ward at St Mungo's. They had no chance of abusing the potion, because the only person available to bite was Healer Smethwyck himself."

After being bereft of the Wolfsbane Potion, the werewolves could not help reverting to their former savage instincts. For instance, Cornelius Fudge's own nephew recently suffered the tragedy of a werewolf attack.

"Failure to patent this important medicine was just an oversight," confirms the Minister for Magic. "Healer Smethwyck was convicted on a technicality. He was legally wrong, but of course he was morally right." It is expected that the patent for Wolfsbane Potion will be issued before the June full moon.

"I am delighted," says Damocles Belby, 46, the apothecary who originally discovered this magical medicine. "I believe in working within the law, and I still say Hippocrates was rash to jump the gun. However, I am delighted that the moral dilemma will soon cease to exist."

Other experts are more guarded in their commendation. "A thinking werewolf will prove even more dangerous than a mindless one," warns Dolores Umbridge, 61, Senior Undersecretary to the Minister for Magic. "This medicine is a stimulant, not a sedative. It does not tame werewolves; it only encourages them to focus their assaults."

Healer Smethwyck was unavailable for comment. His wife, Clarissa, 84, says only that he has returned to their Berkshire home, where he is recovering from his ordeal in Azkaban.

* * * * * * *

The next day the Lupin family took the Floo to the Mágiaügyi Minisztérium, an International Portkey to the Ministry of Magic, and the Floo back to their own house in Nottingham. It was full, warm spring, with the blossoms on the pear trees giving way to bright green leaves, and crimson and gold tulips bordering every front lawn. The Lupins' lawns were evenly-mowed emerald blankets, because Joe had tended their gardens consistently throughout their absence.

Remus tossed their surviving suitcase into the tiny box-room under the eaves without giving it much thought. He knew he should look at that broken catch, but there was too much else to do, and he didn't intend to go travelling again for a very long time. Most immediately, he had to think about how he was to support his family. It was a good time of year to look for vacancies (he sent his résumé to every primary school in Nottingham), but it was a bad time to begin a new job, since all teaching posts began in September. He registered with the L.E.A. as a supply teacher, but of course that only brought in very part-time work.

"I should maybe work," said Ariadne. She contacted St Mungo's the day after their return, but there wasn't a vacancy. "Healer Smethwyck would probably make a space for me," she said, "but Madam Smethwyck says he will not be fit to work for several weeks yet. I'll apply at the Most Extraordinary Society of Potioneers."

Remus wanted to say that there was no need, since Ariadne was already working. Whenever she wasn't busy with the children, she was studying her lupluna pots. But neither of them could evade the reality that they were currently trying to feed six people on what Joe brought home from the Butterbeer factory. While Joe didn't seem to mind sharing, Remus was disturbed by the thought of allowing the situation to continue into next week. Besides, Ariadne ought to be awarded a Mastership in the near future, but it wouldn't happen unless she appeared in the workforce.

"To speak of the self-vaunting Society," he said, "have you reminded them that you are the real author of the Wolfsbane Potion? If you don't claim copyright soon, you'll find history attributing the credit to Damocles Belby."

It hadn't occurred to her. "If I create a complication now, it'll probably delay the granting of the patent. And it's not mattering, since the Wolfsbane Potion is only an interim measure. Once I've finished the lupluna analysis, nobody will care any more about the Wolfsbane."

"How are you managing to do anything with the lupluna? Aren't they stuck in their pots until some vampire pulls them out?"

"Mercy found a Mr Sanguini to uproot the original batch, but I've no trouble doing anything with the cuttings. The real problem is that it's such a complex plant. It will take me months to isolate and extract that component that causes lycanthropy, and then I'll have to work out its empirical formula. What's more, its chemistry probably changes under the full moon. Even after I'm knowing the formula, it'll take years to calculate exactly how it affects the human metabolism, and more years to construct an antidote. Remus... do not expect any miracle medicines at any time soon."

He hadn't had any timeline in mind, nor was he expecting any more miracles in his life. Ariadne herself was as great a miracle as any man could desire, her love for him apparently still as sweet and intense as on their wedding day, despite seven years of trials. It seemed unfair that she should lose home and friends and professional status – that she should have been almost a vagabond in Transylvania – because she had married a werewolf, and that, even now, she was not to be rewarded for her labours.

When would she start feeling that the price had been too high?

She stroked his cheek. "Do not worry about it, Remus. One of us will find a job soon, and I'll be able to deconstruct the lupluna eventually. Did I tell you that my mother Flooed while you were at the library? She's coming to visit tomorrow, and I'm certain she's understanding that she has to be accepting towards you if she's wanting to see her grandchildren. Everything will be all right."

And so they lived. Remus was able to teach two or three days most weeks. Hestia often dropped in on her way home from work: she was putting in long hours of upholstery and French-polishing at Chippendale and Hepplewhite. Ariadne's mother and cousins would invite themselves to morning coffee or afternoon tea (ironically named, since Ariadne never drank either); since her mother had the farm, Mercy worked irregular shifts at St Mungo's, Felicity had a baby, and Letitia never did any work of any kind, they were available at all hours. Joe had stocked them up on Arabica coffee and Earl Grey tea.

Mrs MacDougal was polite to Remus and utterly doting over the children. She brought them gifts of fresh fruit and alphabet books and took all the credit for teaching David to walk. She chattered endlessly about the family: how surprised they were that Morag had been sorted into Ravenclaw, how Aidan had fed alihotsy to Papa's chronically depressed prize bull, how Humphrey Macnair recommended Ogden's new barley-malt blend of Firewhisky. As far as Remus was aware, she had never apologised to Ariadne for the two years of refusing all communication; an outsider would never have guessed. Indeed, Letitia Greengrass remarked, "You're lucky to have a mother, Ariadne."

Letitia took no notice of Remus or the children, but she would monopolise Ariadne for an hour at a time. Strictly speaking, Lucius did not allow her to speak to Ariadne at all, but he was unlikely ever to find out. "It's so strange," she sniffed into her Earl Grey, "that you're the only one left of my old friends, Ariadne. I wouldn't have believed it ten years ago. You were such a goody two-shoes, always finishing your homework on time, and then sneaking off to hobnob with Muggle-borns. Yet you're the only friend who has lasted."

Remus found himself staring at the newspaper. He knew that Ariadne had never considered Letitia a friend.

"Well, I can't avoid Hazel, seeing as she's my sister-in-law, but I wish I could. All she ever talks about is her aches and pains, and every time I see her snotty-nosed, grizzly little brats, I remember why I intend never to have any of my own. Then Galena Borgin is too busy with that shop down in Knockturn Alley to issue social invitations, and Morgause Lufkin hasn't sent so much as a Christmas card since she swanned off to America." Letitia set down her cup, with an aside that Ariadne's tea-brewing skills had improved. "I do feel sorry for Regelinda Macnair, though. Her father keeps her an absolute prisoner in that dilapidated old castle. It's his fault that our friendship hasn't lasted. Still, I've heard a hint... I won't say too much now, Ariadne... but I think Regelinda's circumstances may improve quite soon."

Ariadne showed a disappointing lack of interest in begging her cousin to breach this confidence. But after Letitia had gone, she asked Remus, "Are you thinking... Could Regelinda have taken an experimental walk in the castle grounds... and discovered that she could walk all the way to Foss... that she's no longer magically constrained to the castle?"

"It was inevitable that one of them would find out sooner or later. It's been over a year, Ariadne."

A week later Remus came downstairs from putting Matthew to bed to find Ariadne frowning over a letter. He thought he detected an owl winging into the horizon, but before he could ask her about it, a second owl swooped in through the window. It landed in Ariadne's lap and swept her first letter onto the floor with a flap of its wing before extending its leg. As Ariadne read her second letter, all colour drained from her face.

"Bad news?" he asked.

She pressed the letter into his hand. "Veleta." Her mouth made the word, but it was soundless.

My dear Ariadne,

We are desperate. I implore you to help us, if it is the last thing you ever do.

They are going to kill my baby! Susan was born last January. Gertrude Macnair gives all my children genetic tests at birth, and Susan is a Squib. They tossed her back to me at the time, but now they say they need her blood. Literally.

Walden Macnair has just found out that constraining spell – the one that confines Macnair descendants to the radius of Macnair Castle – has been broken. This is because Regelinda eloped with Harold Skiveley last week. She shouldn't have been able to do this, for her father has been keeping her as almost a prisoner inside the castle ever since he found out that Mr Skiveley is a Muggle-born. Since Regelinda is now safely married in London, all the Macnairs know that their spell has broken.

They don't know who broke it or how, and they don't much care. They just want to re-cast it as fast as they can, before anyone else escapes.

You didn't mention all the details of the Blood Spell, but Macnair Castle also has a copy of Blodhriki, and I know the parts you tried to spare me. Since this is not a life-and-death spell, it shouldn't be necessary to commit murder to re-cast it. Simply spilling some blood should be enough. But Walden Macnair says they will kill Susan anyway. If someone actually dies, "meddlers" will have almost no chance of sabotaging the new spell later.

Please, Ariadne, if this is the last thing you ever do for us – don't let them hurt my baby. There must be someone out there whom the Macnairs have never Banned. Please, please, find that person, and beg him or her to bring my children a Portkey.

Mary will try to capture a Macnair owl to deliver this message. If the Macnairs waylay her before the owl departs, I don't know what we shall do. But I think they will cast the spell tomorrow, as soon as they can borrow a silver knife free from Macnair possession.

Susan is only a baby. Don't let her die!

Veleta Vablatsky.

"This is what Veleta should have done years ago," said Remus. "Put her situation in writing and signed it. Now we finally have evidence that the Auror Division will take seriously."

Ariadne did not notice that he was giving the letter back to her, and it fluttered helplessly to the carpet. "Are they not closed for the day? We'll take it to them first thing tomorrow, then, and we can hope we are yet in time... I'm just hoping they will not waste time collecting permits and interviewing the Macnairs first. Oh, it will be so slow! Remus, can you not make a Portkey for me tonight?"

"For you? Of course not. You'd be knocked cold as you passed the Barrier, and that wouldn't save Susan. I could set a Portkey, but we'd need a different courier... someone whom we are quite certain the Macnairs have never thought to Ban. If you can think of anyone, sweetheart... any person whom you know but the Macnairs don't..."

"For an emergency like this, Remus, could we not appeal to Professor Dumbledore? Even if he cannot go himself, he's knowing everybody."

Remus thought desperately. "We could if it were not summer," he agreed, "but Hogwarts is closed, and Dumbledore is probably Unsearchable while he's on holiday."

"My cousin Severus? Professor McGonagall? Madam Bones...? Joe, do not tear that letter!"

Remus grabbed for it a second too late; Joe had already ripped it asunder and tossed the two pieces in opposite directions. Then he hurled himself upwards from the sofa and stalked out of the room. He obviously did understand a fair part of the situation.

Remus tapped a Reparo on the letter and reminded Ariadne, "Severus would have been Banned on the day he denounced the Death Eaters. McGonagall is at a Transfiguration Conference in Egypt; she wouldn't be able to return to Britain in time. And Madam Bones has been too closely involved with Veleta all along; I think it's quite likely that she's a Banned person too."

"Then there's... oh, think. Remus, would Kingsley not know somebody...?"

Remus tried not to let the terrifying images of what the Macnairs were intending to do to a baby block out rational thought. It wasn't a question of who would take the problem seriously. He needed to think of someone who might accept enough of their story to be willing to invade private property on an illegal Portkey in order to investigate. But the only names that were crossing his mind were those of people who were already Banned.

Suddenly it seemed altogether too quiet.

"Ariadne," he said suddenly, "do you think Joe's all right?"

Ariadne listened too. Since the children were asleep upstairs, there were only the two of them, and the silence was deafening.

They looked at each other, then Remus ran for the stairs. Ariadne ran after him, up two flights, past the open bathroom doors, to Joe's room. Remus flung open Joe's door, while Ariadne checked her laboratory opposite. Joe was not at home.

Then they heard an almighty thump downstairs in the lounge.

A/N. Thank you to St. Row-a-Check for continued guidance on all things Magyar.