A Different Kind of Magic--UNDERGOING EDIT

All Harry Potter and related characters and/or plot scenarios that you recognize are the property of JK Rowling. I do not own them or profit from them in any way.

Muchas gracias sale a mi amigo y la beta encantador VIVAvivacious para su fabuloso apoyo progresivo de esta historia. ¡Mece!


Chapter 25 – Lucrative Contemplation

Professor Lupin slammed the Sunday edition of the Daily Prophet down onto his plate, sending biscuits and gravy flying out from under the paper to coat Rabastan’s cloak in a gloppy mess.

“Damn them! They just can’t leave well enough alone, can they?”

The students nearest to the High Table stopped eating to gape at their irate Defense teacher.

Minerva cast him a reproving glance that said, ’Not now Remus.’

He inhaled sharply, willing himself to calm. With measured control, he rose from his seat, muttered an apology to Rabastan, and stormed out of the Great Hall.

Rabastan calmly pulled out his wand. “Evanesco!” The mess disappeared from his robes, and he continued with his meal as though nothing had happened. The students continued to stare at him. “Ten points from Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff for gaping like dunderheaded idiots!”

A sixth year student at the Gryffindor table sniggered. “He sounds just like Snape!”

“I heard that! Twenty points from Gryffindor for impudence!”

Minerva sighed loudly, tossing her silverware onto her barely-touched breakfast. “Never a dull moment, eh, Filius?”

The Charms teacher nodded. “Yes, but I doubt you’d have it any other way, would you, Minerva?”

She grinned wryly. “Yes, I suppose you’re right. Tell me, have you been able to come up with a better means of communication for our….,” she leaned in close, “guest?”

He nodded vigorously. In a whisper, he replied, “I am working on molding a headpiece from Etherium. The dragons in Germany hoard it before nesting each winter and ingest it to enhance the strength of their offspring’s eggs to withstand the harsh cold of the Ore Mountains. I have a colleague there who specializes in harvesting their eggs and extracting the metal after they have left the nest.”

He paused around a sausage roll, looking like a chipmunk with his mouth full of pork.

“Etherium has many qualities that are underutilized. One of them is the ability to transmit thought into spoken form. My colleague discovered this when his daughter’s friend, who is non-verbal, put a shell of the dragon egg over her head; he could hear her singing, but her mouth wasn’t moving. The German Wizarding Council is investigating it further, but they are understaffed. I am unofficially helping them with the research in exchange for some of the material, provided I give them my notes for publication. They will credit me with an honorable mention for helping with the project.”

Minerva shoved her plate away. “Will you please get to the point, Filius? Can you help her or not?”

“Yes and no. I cannot give her voice back, but the headpiece should be ready by this evening. If my theory is correct, it will transmit her thoughts through the Etherium, and with the enhancements of gold inlay and the Sonorus charm, she will be able to communicate without the use of the Sententia Reddo.”

“The stone you gave her.”

“Yes. I still want her to keep it as backup, though. You never know when it will come in handy. It can be used by anyone to transmit thought in a pinch, not just Miss Granger.”

“I want you with me to present the headpiece to Miss Granger when we meet with her and Severus this afternoon.”

“She will need to re-cast the Sonorus Charm each day to revitalize the spell.”

“I have arranged for Ollivander to measure her for a new wand once she reaches the Weasleys.”

“Very good.”

--

Minerva knocked on Professor Lupin’s door. “Come in!” came his irritated voice.

One look told her all she needed to know. He had just discovered what she had known since early this morning. The Prophet had printed the Ministry’s account of what had happened about the Scottish Manor they had rescued Hermione and Severus from.

“How could they, Minerva? I don’t know how the public can believe this bullshite! How on Earth can they believe six patients, two of whom couldn’t even walk if Rabastan’s sources are correct, and eight young women with no weapons overtake a heavily-armed Ministry medical facility?”

“You know as well as I do, Remus, that Shacklebolt wants to keep the public eye off what they are really doing. It is also as good an excuse as any to trim Ministry costs by simply blaming patients and killing everyone, claiming self defense. They kill two birds with one stone; blame it on so-called mentally incompetent criminals, eliminate the staff so there are no witnesses, and throw the public trail off any possible suspicion. It’s brilliant, really.”

“Yes and its cold-blooded murder. If we hadn’t been there, Hermione, hell, Severus… oh Merlin, I can’t even think of it. We wouldn’t have known what happened to them!”

“You underestimate our Hermione. She always did surprise us. Miss Granger is truly one of the brightest witches of the age.”

“Yes, she’s something else, isn’t she? What did Rabastan have to say about the Ministry’s take on our presence?”

“He said they claimed a storm blew over the Manor and a series of lightning strikes hit it and set it on fire, thus giving the patients the opportunity to revolt.”

“And just the cover Shacklebolt needed to justify the murders.”

“Very tidy. What a snake.”

“Yes, well, as you know, this isn’t the only facility to be ransacked. It’s the third one we know of, and there are more to come, I am sure. Innocent witches and injured prisoners are being killed in the name of Shacklebolt and Umbridge’s precious prophecy, from what we’ve gathered. I can’t imagine what other motive they would have.”

“Why don’t we move now to stop them?” Lupin slammed his fist against the wall. Why does the Order continue to let these murders happen? It’s maddening!”

“Professor Lupin, you have to trust we are doing all we can to save those we know are being targeted.”

“You sound just like bloody Albus. How am I supposed to help when you won’t trust anyone but that damn brute Rabastan to the details of the Prophecy?”

“Remus.” Minerva hesitated, hedging with a decision only she knew about.

“What is it, Minerva? Did you want to tell me something?”

“Yes, but I have my reservations.”

“What is it, then?”

“It’s about the Prophecy… If the wrong people are able to decode and fulfill what the legend claims, you do realize the Wizarding and Muggle worlds will be worse off than if Voldemort had succeeded.”

Lupin pressed one hand through his hair. “I was afraid you were going to say that. Is that why you are keeping it quiet?”

“Yes. We don’t want to unduly scare the rest of the Order members. I am telling you this so you understand the gravity of the situation. We must not fail to secure the secret of the Prophecy before Umbridge. If we understand the grave nature of our findings correctly, the fate of the world literally rests on our ability to figure this out and either destroy the evidence or fulfill it properly ourselves. That is where Hermione comes in.”

“How so?”

“I need her to translate the parchment. She is the only person I know alive who even remotely could understand that sort of text in such detail. She took an extra class independently in Ancient Languages and did her thesis on magical Latin runes. It was simply brilliant, even though I couldn’t understand half of what she described in her paper. Her instructor was one-hundred and seventy-eight years old and died last winter. With him dead, she is the only other person with the capability to decipher the text.”

“So it’s paramount to keep her safe from the Ministry. Why wouldn’t they want to try and control her for their own purpose?”

“Well, I suspect they were aware of her knowledge. Being so extremely clever and well-known has its disadvantages. Someone must have disliked her vehemently, and that’s why they allowed her to be placed with Severus. They knew she was eventually going to be killed; with her out of the way, her suspect loyalty couldn’t benefit anyone outside their crooked circle. Umbridge held a special hatred in her heart for the trouble she stirred up while that she was here.”

Remus chuckled softly at that. He had greatly admired the students for luring the cow into the Forbidden Forest. It was a Marauder-worthy plot.

Minerva continued. “The Ministry just had to bide their time until the public was thoroughly brainwashed on their crooked policy. Make them look like a bunch of bloody heroes instead of murderers by blaming the revolts on the prisoners but conveniently at the cost of the lives of their employees. I desperately wish we knew who was really behind all of this. I know Umbridge and Shacklebolt don’t have the brains between them to mastermind the whole thing. There has got to be someone helping them.”

“Or controlling them.”

Minerva started, her face growing white. “Whatever do you mean?”

His face grew excited as his hands waved about animatedly. “Don’t you see? That’s exactly it! There has got to be someone pulling the strings behind the scenes – it all makes sense! Someone powerful. Someone with money and influence. Someone who escaped Azkaban and remained hidden.”

“What I don’t understand is if Hermione’s Ancient Languages instructor is dead, how does the Ministry plan on translating the scrolls?”

“That is what I fear so much, Remus. They are privy to information and contacts we are not, and it could prove very damaging. I am loathing the thought of the person who would wish Miss Granger dead based on such a thin premise.”

Suddenly, a light seemed to go on in the headmistress’s head, and she rushed to leave the room.

“Where are you going?”

“To find Rabastan. We have much to discuss.”

Remus sat heavily on the edge of his bed, his forehead resting on his palms. It frustrated him to feel like just another pawn in this ongoing chess game. He still didn’t fully trust Rabastan, and now Snape was back in the picture. Ugh, Snape! Just the thought of him brought back a long buried memory he had endeavored to forget. He shook his head, intent on leaving it in the past.

He stood and rubbed his arms briskly, deciding to light a fire. Thoughts wandered to another dilemma he had no wish to speak of. As of late, there had been a change that had come upon him. Something in his blood ran hot, invoking emotions that normally stayed dormant until around the few days preceding the full moon. His frustration and anger were breaking past his normally calm exterior, and he was at a loss as to where or how this change had come about. With a deep sigh he sank into an armchair, once again chalking it up to stress. If it continued, he would talk to Poppy, but mostly he just needed to be alone and think; that, and avoid Rabastan and Snape for awhile, if at all possible.

He closed his eyes, just for a moment before gathering himself up for his first class of the day. A small grin lit his face as he imagined running into the lovely Ava on his way there. Remus straightened his clothing a bit more before his light step left the room, intent on a quick peek past the infirmary on his way to class.