The Friend who Understood

CHAPTER FIVE

The Friend who Understood

Tuesday 2 August – Thursday 1 September 1983

Kincarden, Inverness-shire; Hogwarts, the Grampians.

Rated PG for references to romance and lycanthropy.

Ariadne arrived at King's Cross Station on the first of September annoyed with her mother. She tried to squash the unworthy feelings. It's not Mamma's fault. She was not knowing it was important. But another, less dutiful, voice inside her argued, But it is Mamma's fault. She should not let that kind of thing upset her. It's because I knew she'd become upset that I could not tell her about it. And that's why she did not know.

Ariadne had been hustled into the Floo at ten o' clock before she had had a chance to say goodbye to Remus. He had been out in the potato fields since dawn, and she had counted on being able to have a last word with him, sometime when nobody else was monitoring her movements. But she had been monitored – spied on – all morning: had she packed all her books, did she have enough robes, would she be needing extra Potions ingredients, should she swap her telescope for the better one that Kenneth no longer used, had she marked all her family anniversaries in her diary? She had recited all the dates without opening her diary (so that Mamma could not see that she had marked all the full moons in red ink) but her foot had been tapping with irritation under her robes all the while. Finally Papa had come in from the fields to remind her to hand in her homework on time, to wear the fleece-lined cloak at Quidditch matches, not to over-spend her allowance, to write home every week, to begin her thank you letters no later than this evening (her birthday had been yesterday), and to be on her way now so as not to miss the train. Realising in despair that she had no further reason to go out to the fields, she had kissed her father, taken a handful of Floo powder, followed her mother into the hearth... and glimpsed, from the corner of her eye, that Remus was entering from the back door, just as the green flames licked around her and pulled her away to the Leaky Cauldron.

She said, "I will, Mamma," and, "I do not, Mamma," as they walked through Muggle London, but she barely heard what her mother was saying. Mamma would be so hurt if she knew, she tried to tell herself again and again. Papa would be heartbroken too. But the rebellious voice was louder. It kept interrupting: They never treat Remus well.

They were good employers, of course. They provided comfortable quarters, generous wages, moderate workloads; and they were polite. But they were not friendly. They had never shown the slightest sign of treating Remus as anything more than a convenient automaton.

When Ariadne had returned home from Perthshire, her mother was waiting in the kitchen and greeted her with the words, "Dear, you must be exhausted after all that walking. And you're so freckled – it's a wonder you did not burn!" Mamma removed her rucksack, sat her down, poured her pumpkin juice, and asked when the photographs would be ready.

At that moment Remus stepped into the hearth, and Mrs MacDougal acknowledged him with the merest glance. "Thank you for taking care of Miss MacDougal, Remus. The barley harvest begins today, so they will be wanting you in the fields. Ariadne, how did you like Miss Vance? She seemed a very suitable lady to us."

And Remus was on his way to the barley fields without even being offered a glass of water. Nobody thought to ask him if he would like a rest, even though he had spent the last twelve days walking as hard as she had and had done so for duty rather than pleasure.

Ariadne replied that she had indeed liked Miss Vance very much, but the truth sounded like a lie in her ears. She would have had to say the same thing, no matter who the suitable person was, so the words were meaningless.

She would never be able to tell her parents how well Mr Lupin had guarded her on that holiday. He had protected her from a Dark castle and two werewolves.

After the cows were milked and the pigs were fed, Ariadne wandered out to the barn with her Transfiguration textbook. Within ten minutes, Remus came looking for her and sat down on the bale next to hers.

"Really studying, or just pretending?" he asked.

"Good intentions, but distracted. I keep thinking about that face I saw at Macnair Castle."

"The one that didn't seem like a ghost or an illusion?"

"But it did seem like an old schoolfriend of mine. What I did not tell you then was that my friend died three years ago."

"That must have given you a scare." He looked right at her without a hint of scepticism. "Now you've had a few days to think about it... what do you think you really saw?"

"I've had so much else on my mind that I have not been able to think very clearly," she admitted. "But, to be realistic... either I'm wrong, and it was some kind of spell... or it was a real person who happens to look like my friend – a close relative, perhaps... or... " She felt foolish suggesting the third alternative, but Remus did not falter.

"Or your friend never really died."

She exhaled and nodded. "Is that a very stupid idea, Remus?"

"Not necessarily. It would be stupid to insist on any one interpretation, natural or magical, before you had enough evidence to support it. How did your friend die?"

"Oh, the usual way. Death Eaters at her home, the Dark Mark above her house... Her mother was a Muggle-born, but a very quiet one; we never understood why their family was targeted."

"You've sidestepped the important point," he said. "Was there a body?"

"I'm supposing so. I mean, I never thought to ask. I... well, I'm imagining the record can be checked, but I've always presumed that a person declared dead was known to be dead. After all, Caradoc was officially only 'missing', but the Vablatskys were definitely 'dead'."

"The record can be checked," Remus affirmed. "Do you think you can manage not to worry until one of us has done that?"

After that they really did read a chapter of Transfiguration, and when Ariadne entered the parlour to bid her parents good night, she told them that Mr Lupin had been helping her with homework.

"I am pleased that you take your studies so seriously out of school," said Papa. "If Remus is able to help you with the more difficult subjects, my dear, I'm believing we should employ him to tutor you every evening."

"Employ" did not mean a pay rise, or even a reduction of the hours spent in the fields; it only meant that Remus was told over breakfast that the family was truly grateful for his assistance to Miss MacDougal, and that they hoped he would have time to continue the good work throughout her school holidays.

"I'm sorry," said Ariadne that evening. "It's the end of your free time."

"Will you really spend the rest of summer wondering whether I'm only speaking to you because your parents very charmingly commanded it?" he asked. "Well, I think I'll keep you guessing!"

Every evening she wandered out to the herb garden or the barn, and Remus always came to sit with her. They revised every chapter of the Transfiguration text. They worked on Charms, "although we're wasting our time," Remus conceded. Ariadne understood the theory of Charms perfectly well, but she was not allowed to rehearse the practicals out of school, though she badly needed to. They translated fifty pages of Ancient Runes, with a great deal of laughter, since it was a subject in which neither needed any help.

"Don't you think your translations are rather creative?" asked Remus. "The original is more like:

"Do you not think yours are rather stilted?" she countered.

As the weeks rolled by, Ariadne heard nothing from Hogwarts, but she did receive a postcard from Kingsley, in which he cheerily mentioned that he was to be Head Boy. This meant, of course, that Ariadne was not to be Head Girl. She was still a Prefect, but her parents became alarmed that perhaps her studies really were falling behind.

"Be sure to pay attention to everything that Remus teaches you, my dear," said Papa, trying hard to suppress any hint of anger or disappointment over... well, over what had not happened.

Ariadne read to Remus from her Astronomy and Herbology texts. She tried to educate him in Potions, but that was a subject in which he remained very stupid. "Thank goodness you have one weakness," she said. "I'd begun to fear that you were perfect."

She even twitted him on the subject of friendship. "You must have some friends," she said.

"No, I lost them all on the night when Voldemort fell."

He had already told her all about the Potters and brave little Peter Pettigrew, but she said, "There have to be others. Is Sturgis Podmore not a friend?"

"Yes, if a friend is 'a person who knows I have lycanthropy and still treats me normally'. But I never knew him all that well. When we first worked together, he was engaged to Marlene McKinnon, and I didn't like to intrude. After she died, he spent a long time grieving. Then the war ended, and I had to move on, and I never really knew what Sturgis did next."

"You could have owled."

"Believe me, he'd have thought it very odd. We'd only ever talked shop – was I supposed to start asking his opinions on the Quidditch scores?"

"Well, there's Emmeline, then. Did you not know her?"

"In the same way; she was nice enough, but always a little aloof from everyone. If I'd sent her an owl for no reason, she'd have suspected romantic attachment or madness. Either of which would have been highly uncomfortable."

"What I'm thinking you're saying," she folded her arms in mock-annoyance, "is that you were determined not to have any friends."

"That was certainly true for the first twelve months after Voldemort fell," he conceded. "I was too busy trying to survive to send owls asking if my acquaintances had read any good books lately."

She abruptly dropped the annoyed posing, unable to block the compassion from her voice. "And did nobody ever take the initiative to send an owl to you?"

He froze. "No... " He tried out the new idea. "I suppose... Well, no one knew where I was... Probably everyone thought that someone else was contacting me. Only no one was. And, to be honest, it was a year before I noticed that I cared."

"Did you hear what you just said?"

"You're making a ring around me. All right, I'll bite. What did I just say?"

"Not 'before I cared', but 'before I noticed that I cared'."

"'Noticed'... yes, I was fairly numb in those days, I suppose. I concede that you have won your point. Whatever your point was." Despite the serious nature of his confession, he was looking at her quite happily; he never seemed hurt by even her most candid statements. He said, "We should do another translation."

They had hardly completed a sentence before a huge black owl swooped into the barn and dropped a pale blue note onto the book. "Remus," said Ariadne, "I'm believing you have not met Thangalaathil properly. He owns Sarah."

"That's your stylish dorm-mate who isn't Hestia?"

"That's – oh, stop laughing at me. This letter's not about dress-robes and knitting patterns. It's a matter that concerns you intimately."

Sarah had written:

Darling Ariadne,

I am home after six weeks in Paradise. I can't believe that you never left Scotland. Don't you ever go anywhere? Was your holiday rained out? It's just sweltering here in London. What I have to show you is a million photographs, a very bronze tan, two flamenco dresses, and something that I won't mention until I can give it to you in person.

On Wednesday I'm going to Diagon Alley. My parents are both working that day, so I shall be very alone unless you can come with me. Why don't you come to my house on Tuesday evening to claim your present, and then we can make an early start on shopping? And if you can stay over until Thursday, that will take all the pressure off.

I am booked up all the other days, so owl back quickly and say that Wednesday suits you.

Hugs and swirls (from the flamenco dresses),

Sarah.

"Well, it wasn't about knitting patterns," Remus conceded. "Will your parents let you go?"

"They will be mildly worried about my wandering all over Diagon Alley. I'll have a better chance if I suggest that you or William escort us... carry the parcels... keep us away from the Knockturn Alley types... Sarah will probably distract me into so much fuss and frivolity that we'll end up staying out late without finishing the job," she struggled to control her bubbling laughter, "so I'll have to owl my parents that you'll be taking a room at the Leaky Cauldron on Wednesday night so that you can help us finish shopping in the morning... "

"But I can't make Wednesday... " he began, then caught her eye. She stifled another gasp of laughter while he tried again. "It seems a little too lucky that your friend is so keen on Wednesday... Now you're laughing at me!"

"I owled Sarah yesterday to write that Wednesday was the only day that would suit her. She knows how to write the kind of letter that I can show to my parents."

"You've set me up!" He frowned. "Just how elaborate is this ruse that you've undertaken to protect me without my consent?"

"I'm knowing you'd rather solve your problems without my help," she admitted, "but, believe me, you're not wanting my parents to find out what you'll really be doing on Tuesday night."

So on Tuesday evening Remus followed Ariadne through the Floo to the Leaky Cauldron and escorted her to Sarah's front door. The evenings were yet so long that she knew he would have time to finish his chores at Kincarden before he Apparated to the Shrieking Shack. He was obviously wondering how exactly she planned to release him the next morning, but she teased him by asking, "Why do you not just trust me?"

"Well, when I trusted Sirius Black to treat my secret life responsibly, it wasn't altogether a good thing."

"Will it relieve your mind if I promise not to send any Dark Arts acolytes to their doom in the Shrieking Shack this evening? Especially not my cousin Severus."

"Even when I trusted James and Peter, our behaviour was not exactly ethical."

"I also promise not to become an Animagus at any time before tomorrow morning."

With all her care not to let Sarah keep her up talking all night, with all her diligence in pulling Sarah out of bed early in the morning, with all her hints that she had to be at Diagon Alley early – it was still eight o' clock before Ariadne stepped into the public Floo at the Leaky Cauldron, then out again at the Three Broomsticks grate. She raced to the Shrieking Shack, reminding herself that it was not haunted, and never had been, opened it with an illegal, under-age Alohomora charm, and knocked at every door.

"Remus, are you hurt?"

"No." He emerged from a downstairs room.

"Except for the blood creeping through your shirt, which I'll ignore. Can you walk?"

"Yes. How did you get here? You were meant to be in London. What's that walking stick thing?"

"It's a walking stick. Sarah thought it very odd that I was wanting to borrow one, but she asked no questions. Lean on it, and try to walk as far as the Three Broomsticks."

"Why didn't you bring Sarah?"

"I was not wanting to tell her everything. She's waiting for me in Diagon Alley – she said she'd give me an hour to do my Top Secret Business. She thinks I'm meeting some boy, or maybe buying something in Knockturn Alley. Do not worry. Sarah understands that not all secrets are guilty ones – she has plenty of her own, and only about half of them are connected with boys. She pumped me like mad to find out what was going on, but she's becoming used to the idea that she cannot always make me tell."

Ariadne left Remus in the Leaky Cauldron and found Sarah waiting for her outside Slug and Jigger's apothecary shop.

"Thank goodness you were only meeting some boy," said Sarah. "For a while I was starting to worry that you really were buying something dangerous on the Dark Market."

Ariadne managed to spin the shopping trip out all day; this was very easy with Sarah as a shopping companion. She ate dinner with Sarah's family, watched some kind of flickering lantern show that Muggles called a "video", then Sarah really did keep her up talking until past midnight.

On Thursday morning she hugged Sarah goodbye outside the Leaky Cauldron, dumped all her parcels on the first table inside the door, paid Remus's bill, and looked around for him. He had already spotted her and was soon sweeping up parcels into his arms. He looked much healthier today.

Her mother was waiting for them in the kitchen at Kincarden. When she saw how many parcels they were carrying, she did not question Ariadne's story that she and Sarah had spent the previous day shopping until dusk.

So on the first of September Ariadne kissed Mamma good bye on platform nine and three-quarters, promising to pass on the family's compliments to Severus (and knowing that Severus did not want them), and boarded the train quietly without bothering to look for her friends.

They found her, of course. Ivor and Richard burst into her compartment with an unceremonious, "Hey, Ariadne, you're in the wrong place – we're up the other end!" Richard Summoned her trunk and Levitated it down the corridor. Ariadne followed them, but hardly said a word.

Remus is thinking I do not care. The thought throbbed like a painful pulse. He had no other company on the farm. Her parents maintained proper the social distance between themselves and the menials; Kenneth never spoke to anybody if he could help it; Janet was pleasant, but had no interests beyond her bairns, the dairy and her embroidery; and the best that could be said for William and Morag was that they offered great scope to an aspiring teacher. The farm was so isolated that the neighbours (all Muggles) rarely came to call, and not even the tradesmen bided to chat. Remus will be alone as long as I am at school. And I did not say goodbye.

"What's wrong?" asked Kingsley.

"She has a guilty secret," said Sarah. "Something very unsuitable for even her friends to know."

"What, even more unsuitable than our high jinks in Perthshire?" asked Ivor.

"Much more unsuitable," Ariadne managed to say.

"If it isn't some boy," hinted Sarah, "then it's Dark Magic."

"Oh, don't be so hard on Ariadne," said Ivor, "it's probably only a shady money deal."

"Or it could be drugs," offered Hestia, "given how sedated she seems."

"Why not a boy?" asked Richard. "What I want to know is, are these the pangs of unrequited love? Or has the cruel world placed an obstacle in the path of reciprocated passion?"

"It could be just homework," said Kingsley.

"Before the academic year has actually begun?" Sarah frowned. "No, not even Ariadne would be that stupid."

But I would, she thought. I was willing to do all kinds of extra homework when the ruse worked. She wrenched her mind away from Remus and said out loud, "If you're really wanting to know my dark secrets... "

"Yes, yes, tell all!" urged Sarah. "Is it a new Potions project?"

Ariadne waited until they had all finished guessing (the word "boy" recurred several times) and were ready to listen. "If you're really wanting to know," she said, "I was thinking about something... unexpected... that happened in Perthshire. When we were walking along the River Tummel, we apparently stepped over a magical boundary. And we saw a castle that is otherwise invisible – Macnair Castle."

"Ariadne, you're telling our holiday out of order," Kingsley complained. "Richard and Sarah might want to hear from the beginning."

"We saw the castle," Ariadne repeated, "and I saw a face at a window. Did you not see it, Hestia?"

"I saw several faces," said Hestia. "But none of them looked like Macnair. Most seemed to be house-elves."

"The only face that I saw," said Ariadne, "looked exactly like Veleta Vablatsky."

The silence became sharp and pained as Joe snapped his eyes around to meet hers, his expression suddenly switched from passive to reproachful. His silence shrieked louder than words: But Veleta is dead!

"This sounds like a ghost story," said Richard. "I thought you were bothered about something serious."

"You're upsetting Joe," said Hestia.

It was a moment before Kingsley gathered his wits enough to suggest, "It was probably some kind of magical illusion. A face that looks like whomever you most miss or least expect to see."

"It did not look like that kind of thing," Ariadne insisted. "It looked so solid, so expressive, so... alive. And so exactly like Veleta. I'm not telling ghost stories."

"That would certainly spook me," said Sarah, "but be rational, Ariadne! Did anyone else see a ghost that looked like Veleta?"

"I did." Everybody turned from Ariadne to Ivor. "It took a moment before I realised that the place was dangerous and I had to get Hestia out of there. But I definitely saw someone at the window, dressed in fancy mediaeval get-up. And I know what Ariadne means. I thought at once of Veleta. The movement was exactly like hers."

Ariadne was thunderstruck. She had not mentioned how the girl at the window had been dressed. And the figure had been standing still for all the time she had looked at it; she had not noticed any movement at all. But Ivor had remained within the forbidden boundary for several seconds longer than she had; he could have seen the person moving. And he thought of Veleta too. It must have been more real than she had dared to believe.

Hestia asked, "So you think – you seriously think – that you both saw something real?"

Ariadne was relieved that her friends now believed her, but she could not help comparing their initial scepticism with Remus's implicit trust in her judgment. His immediate response to the problem had been to try to do something about it. She looked around the train compartment at her fellow Gryffindors and knew that she would miss Remus for many evenings to come. For over five years, her affections had been settled on Hogwarts. Kincarden was where she bided in summer, to do her duty by her parents, but she had long since felt that Hogwarts was her real home. Now her affections were shifting again. She would be happy enough at school, but she knew that Hogwarts would never again command the full focus of her emotional attention. That was winging away to the far north, where Remus was casting his Eruo charm on the potato fields.

Her spirits did not lift until bedtime, when she arrived in Gryffindor Tower to see that a small parcel addressed to her had been propped against the notice board. She snatched it up and carried it off to the dormitory before Sarah could ask what was all the hurry. She flung herself onto her bed, drew the curtains, and eased off the brown paper. Inside was an everlasting candle, three inches thick, which released the scent of lemon and jasmine when lit and illuminated at a hundred Watts to a radius of a yard in all directions. It bothered her because she knew Remus could not afford items like that, and he must have had to sneak away from the plough in broad daylight to go anywhere where he could have bought it. With trembling fingers, she opened the attached note.

Dear Ariadne,

A belated happy birthday.

I am sorry I missed your departure this morning; I meant to say goodbye but I am sure you already know that my good wishes follow you to school for this year. The potato fields are not a very good excuse for my absence, given the favour you did me last week, but in the potato field I had to be.

If you have any trouble with the Animate to Inanimate Transfigurations (or any other subject), don't leave yourself to flounder. Write to me at once. Teaching by long distance is more complicated, but please don't assume it can't be done. Don't on any account let yourself drown because you forgot to ask for help.

Rehearse those Protean Charms as soon as you are allowed to use magic again. You do understand them, and I'm certain you can make them work.

I have owled Sturgis to ask him to check the wartime death records, but it isn't his department, so it may take him a while to find time.

My regards to Kingsley, Ivor and Hestia, and also to your comrade-in-collusion Sarah (even though I only saw the back of her head). And I know there are a couple of others in your class (Richard and Joe – I was listening, and I do remember) but I don't feel introduced to them. I'm sure you could do a convincing pen-portrait.

Apologetically,

Remus.

She folded the paper and tucked it under her pillow, finding that she was in a much better mood. Her friends had forgiven her for broaching a taboo topic. They were going to find out the truth about Veleta's death. And Remus wanted her to write back.