Weft of Power, Warp of Blood: A Tapestry of Desire

Chapter Thirty
The Calm

Dear Remus,

Again, I must thank you for the idea to send mail through Professor Roundtree, Umbridge is making no secret that she’s screening owl mail entering and leaving the school. She’s even made mention of not allowing Muggleborns to send or receive mail from their families because it breaks hundreds of laws about keeping the magical world safe from Muggles. I suppose if she does, I’ll have to enclose letters for you to send for me – though I can’t understand how their owl would get to 12 Grimmauld Place since the house is hidden and someone in the house hasn’t trained the post owls. I hope we don’t have to get to the point where I have to figure it out. I would hate to impose on Professor Roundtree any more than I already have though she certainly was a lifesaver in offering her services.

By now you must know that it’s been – to use an understatement – an interesting week. The biggest event was, of course, the Weasley twins leaving in such a spectacularly dangerous fashion after you talked to Harry via Floo (and please don’t let him do that again, the risks he took to do that were astronomical). Has Umbridge sicced the Ministry on them for destroying school property? I’m sure that they told you about the swamp? The two of them – along with the dubious yet unwitting genius of a Slytherin girl who had an accident in potions class – created a swamp in the middle of the fifth floor corridor! They grew Stinksap trees so everyone that comes in contact with them smells for days and a Stranger Cypress tried to choke a member of the Inquisitorial Squad (I can’t say that I didn’t snicker at that one, but if the tree had succeeded, the twins would be in Azkaban, I’m sure.) They even managed cat-tails and dragonflies. Susan Bones swears she saw an alligator under a lily pad. I overheard Professor Flitwick telling Professors Roundtree and McGonagall that he was very impressed by the twins’ charm work! He may be impressed, but they could be in big trouble! Professor McGonagall said that she didn’t think that she could undo the charms and transfigurations that the boys came up with. Of course Filch was just behind her when she said it so I seriously doubt the veracity of her words. Professor Roundtree just gaped at it, muttering something about Thornquist dooming us all with her stupidity.

The twins flew off – after breaking Umbridge’s door – yelling about their new shop. I can’t figure out where they got the money to open one. I can only imagine what Mrs. Weasley said when they showed up.

In other news, I had my session with Professor McGonagall about my future. According to her, I should be an Unspeakable. I’ve thought a bit about that as a path and will have to do a bit more research on it. What are your thoughts? As you know, I had planned to expand S.P.E.W. If I could just get the house elves to realize that they are being treated terribly, I’m sure I could help organize fair labor practices for them. The hats I’ve knitted don’t seem to be working. I’m not hearing about any more free elves around, even though the hats disappear when I leave them about. Do they not understand that the hats are for them and not laundry or garbage? I will have to speak with Dobby and make it clear that when the hats are picked up, the elf that does it will be freed.

Someone is tossing Dungbombs in the library; I’ll finish my letter later.

Tuesday~
I’m so sorry that I didn’t finish up my letter to you. Hogwarts has been a madhouse. People are setting off Dungbombs and throwing Stinkpellets so much that I’ve had to teach most of Gryffindor and half of Hufflepuff how to do a Bubblehead Charm. So many people are walking around the hallways with them, it seems like a goldfish bowl shop. I’ve been confiscating Weasley-made girandoles, firecrackers and charmed candy all week. Since I refuse to give it to Umbridge, I’ve been burning what I can and dismantling the rest.

The good side of it is that Umbridge and Filch are so distracted with ferrying students across the fifth floor swamp and catching pranksters that they haven’t been chasing after Harry as much. I’m just shocked at the behavior of the other teachers, though. All they do is close their doors when it gets loud outside instead of trying to stop it. They may be actually helping create chaos. Professor Flitwick rubs his hands together and cackles so much I think he might be part goblin. Harry said that he overheard Professor McGonagall talking to Peeves! I said that she was probably chastising him for doing whatever he was doing, but he swears she was aiding and abetting.

Speaking of Harry, he’s been acting quite oddly since your conversation in the Floo. He’s been a bit snappish and really evasive about some things – especially about his dreams, but I know he’s still having them. Ronald told me that Harry has been having nightmares but not waking up. Harry says he’s been practicing his Occulemency, but when I asked him how it’s going, he seemed to avoid the subject. I think he’s lying. I’m going to do some research into dream analysis, even though I think it’s rather dodgy. At this point, anything might help. Remus, what did you talk with Harry about it in Floo that made him so angry? What can I do to make it better? More to the point, what can you do to get Sirius to make it better? Oh! I almost forgot to mention it- Harry is the one who gave the Weasley twins the money for the shop! Ron says he’s going to tell his mum if she asks, so that he doesn’t get in trouble. Very Gryffindor, that one.

Chaos strikes again- I’ll end quickly and send this off with Professor Roundtree.

Affectionately yours,
Hermione

******

Dear Hermione,

You’re forgiven for forgetting to send your letter – I’m glad you continued it. I’m happy to hear from you any time, however late it is. Kiaya Roundtree also mentioned that Umbridge is screening teachers’ mail, so she is sending her research notes and questions with her home owl. It might mean that our letters will take a bit longer, but she did say that she was happy to forward your letters. I rather think she enjoys subverting Umbridge in a small way.

I do not know of anything that I can do with Harry and Sirius. With the full moon’s approach, even thought becomes harder, though I do promise to think upon the subject. Sirius continues to not listen to anyone, even me. There are only two people that would any influence on him and I fear that one cannot or will not speak to him. The other is Dumbledore though even his hold on Sirius seems to be growing more tenuous. He spends a great deal of time locked in his bedroom with Buckbeak. I’ll admit to a small feeling of satisfaction when I think of a hippogriff eating dead rats on Mrs. Black’s bed, gnawing on the noses of dead house elves and doing his business in her once-prized rosebushes.

I heard all about the twins leaving school – we all did. I was making deliveries when they arrived, but I heard that Molly woke Mrs. Black’s portrait with her screaming and then bashed the boys over the head with a broom. She charmed the broom to follow them out of the house, beating and poking them. Of course, they were back for dinner the next night and she’s already started on their jumpers for Christmas. They didn’t tell who gave them the money and if I were you, I wouldn’t tell her either. She’ll forgive them for just about anything, though Mundungus Fletcher was mighty confused when she shouted at him for leading her baby boys into iniquity and sin. He stuttered something about seeds through a haze of pipe smoke and ran. Sirius laughed for the first time in at least a week but when Molly banished Mundungus from the house, Sirius and Molly had a small tiff. I can’t help but wonder how long this is going to last; Molly and Sirius grate on each other more and more, especially when the subject of Harry arises. Molly is an overprotective quasi-mother but Sirius is his godfather.

Daily, I am more surprised with Padfoot’s thoughts on how Harry should behave. He has always been reckless with himself but when he first came back he was far more cautious about Harry’s safety. Harry has always been someone to be protected, though now he’s still getting more confused about Harry acting like James. James always was a troll-wrestler when he was younger but I don’t see that carelessness in Harry – other than the actual troll wrestling that Harry did, come to think of it…

Remus set his quill on the table and glanced at Sirius. For once, the other man was reading quietly instead of stalking about or gazing forlornly out the window. Sirius was still gaunt but filling out reasonably well under the watchful eyes and generous stockpot of Molly Weasley. Not wanting to jolt him, Remus murmured, “Sirius….”

“Hmm?” He lowered his book on dark defensive spells.

“Do you think talking to Harry about James was a good idea?”

Sirius took a drink of the ubiquitous “master’s tea” that Kreacher kept him supplied with. “What do you mean? Harry should know about James – he’s his father’s son.”

“Siriusly, I mean…”

“There’s your one,” inserted Sirius.

Remus kept talking as though he’d not been interrupted, though he had a slight smirk. “…discussing James in such… human terms. I’m wondering if we should have kept James’s faults more discreet than we did.”

“Snape should have kept his thoughts more closely guarded if he didn’t want Harry to get into them. He should have known that Harry would dig around until he found out the truth, like James would have. Look, James was human, we all are.”

Remus cleared his throat.

“Even you – especially you. We all have faults but we all have good points, too. Even though he was no angel, James was a better man than the two of us combined.”

Remus contemplated, his face a serene yet scarred mask. “Doesn’t Harry need his illusions? Every young boy thinks his father’s a hero and his mother is an angel – its part of being a child.”

“Harry isn’t a child anymore.”

“He’s only fifteen, Padfoot.”

“Moony, he’s old enough to have a father who really is a hero and a mother who….” Sirius took a ragged breath and sipped his tea. The stuff smelled like burnt, wet herbs, but he was rarely without a cup of it.

“A mother who really is an angel now.”

“Yes.” Sirius gulped his tea, draining the cup. As always, Kreacher trundled into the room, teapot in hand, refilling the cup and muttering under his breath. Automatically, Sirius took a drink from it. “James would be out doing something rather than laying about in a cage, cooped up like some wild animal in a zoo.”

Remus knew that responding would be pointless; Sirius wouldn’t hear him. Even though he thought that James had calmed down as he got older and probably wouldn’t have torn off like a hothead,
Remus only listened to the rant. Drawing the letter between his fingers, Remus quietly enjoyed the knocked-down texture of Hermione’s parchment.

Shoving back from the table to, pace around the room, Sirius growled, “This is ridiculous. I hate this. In the old days we would have been out hunting Voldemort, not waiting for him to break into the Ministry. I think we should just go get Harry and take him in to listen to the damned thing. That way we can get it over with and do something!”

“What happened to keeping Harry safe at school?”

“He’s always safe.” He said the word as though it was an epithet. “He’d be safe! If we go in a group and keep a guard on him, he’ll be fine.”

“You may be right, but Dumbledore thinks it’s a bad idea.”

“Hang Dumbledore! It’s time we did something!”

“You great bloody beast! Get out of my home! Damn you! Curse you and all of your descendants! Get your foul beak off of that! Keep your claws off my carpets! Get out! Kreacher! Remove this beast!”

Jolted by the infuriated shriek, the men dashed from the kitchen. Buckbeak had once again escaped from his confinement in Mrs. Black’s bedroom and trotted downstairs. The last time he’d done that, the hippogriff had been found rooting in the cushions of the sofa in the closed salon, eating calcified doxy droppings. Now, he was calmly chewing on the petrified ear of one of the decapitated house elves that lined the hallway. His wing had bumped the curtain covering Mrs. Black’s portrait, opening it just enough that she could peek out.

Sirius tugged Buckbeak back upstairs while Remus fought the curtains closed. He didn’t bother swearing, nor did he speak to the portrait that was shrieking about his lack of proper parentage, birthright, finances and questionable humanity. He went back to his letter without mentioning the incident; it was simply another day at 12 Grimmauld Place.

******
Dear Remus,

When I was eleven, I remember bounding about the house, waving my Hogwarts letter. I danced for joy at being invited to attend; it was the greatest day of my young life. Some times, however, I rue that day.

It isn’t enough that O.W.L.S. are in one month and everyone is trying to study. Not at all. At any Muggle school, there might be a problem with students popping caffeine tablets to stay up and study more. There might even be a problem with a couple of practical jokes to let off stress. Not here! We have to try to study through pranks, stunts and Dungbombs all day and all night. Not to relieve stress, but just because it can be done. The pranks aren’t simple ones – hiding someone’s books or putting shaving crème on someone in the middle of the night. No, here people (well, if the Inquisitorial Squad could be considered “people”) are being locked in Disappearing Cabinets or flushed down toilets. I know what you’re thinking, but it’s not just shoving someone’s head in a toilet and flushing so there is a great deal of wet hair and clothing, no, I mean flushing. Completely into the plumbing.

I’ve confiscated more fake study aids than I’ve ever even seen. I even asked Professor Roundtree about them, to see if there was such a thing. She said that there was only one really effective one that she knew of and it absolutely wasn’t available for student consumption. When I asked what it was, she changed the subject. Do you know what it could be? I’ve confiscated everything from rat urine with a rosemary infusion to ashes – plain fireplace ashes in a bottle that says “Memory Powder.” There is such a market for it right now. Students are either completely oblivious to the fact that their entire school career could end here or they are going crazy. Ernie MacMillian has officially gone barmy, I think. He can’t stop asking how long I’m studying and bragging about how long he’s been reading. He’s asking so much that I can’t get a thing done. The good thing is that both Harry and Ronald are studying. Of course, Ronald is concentrating more on this afternoon’s final Quidditch match than O.W.L.S. I can only hope once this Quidditch nonsense is over, he will get to seriously studying, not trying to drink dragon urine as a study aid.

Later
We have a problem. Harry and I went to the Quidditch match but Hagrid tugged us aside before we could see it. I know what is hurting Hagrid. His wounds aren’t getting better; he’s getting fresh wounds over the old ones. He’s brought a violent giant home this summer and is keeping it in the Forbidden Forest. He called the giant his half- brother. It’s got to be twenty feet tall, it rips trees up in the forest and catches birds and other creatures to eat- I think that it may well have eaten us, if we had been within catching distance. Hagrid has it tied up, you see, but I don’t think the ropes are going to hold. He took us out there to see the thing because Hagrid asked us to watch over Grawp (the giant) for him. He asked us to try to teach it English and how to be civilized but I don’t think it’s smart enough to understand even the most basic commands, much less be able to invite to high tea. I can’t imagine making friends with it – it wants to eat us!

Of course, as my luck seems to be in the aforementioned toilet, we met up with several centaurs as we left the forest. They all threatened to kill Hagrid if he went into the forest anymore. They are so angry with him for saving Firenze, the new Divination teacher. I think the only reason we got out of the forest alive is because they don’t believe in killing “foals” as they called Harry and me. Never before have I been so grateful for only being sixteen. Of course, if we go into the forest again, all bets are off. All in all, Hagrid has really done it today. One of these days, he’s going to kill a student with his “friends” and, frankly, I don’t want it to be me. Hagrid thought he was going to be sacked by Umbridge because he’s only half human- that’s why he took us into the forest to begin with. As much as I dislike the woman, I don’t know that that would be a bad idea. He’s dangerous; I don’t think he should be teaching in a school or be near students who may not be able to protect themselves from the animals he shows up with- A GIANT! Can you believe it? I said that to Harry, who made me feel terribly guilty for wanting him sacked. I just can’t help it. Hagrid is as foolish as he is nice – I do like him but I just don’t want to be killed by him. Is that too much to ask?

Incidentally, while we were being endangered, Ronald managed to win the Quidditch Cup for Gryffindor. I don’t know how, but he did.

What do you remember about taking your O.W.L.S.? What can I expect?

Yours, incensed and boggled,
Hermione

*****

Dear Hermione,

Many times I forget that you are only sixteen and frequently I wish that you weren’t but this time, I am very glad for it. You would do well to stay out of the forest, no matter that Hagrid requested it. You may be considered a “foal” now, but soon you will not be. I know I do not have to go further along those lines except to say that centaurs are not kind to human females.

Daily, Sirius becomes worse. He loses track of time doing the most mundane tasks and frequently dashes around, ranting about mustering a team to take Harry to “meet his destiny”. I have long come to the conclusion that it is not a wise idea to have Harry meet anyone or anything until he is stronger. I will not, however, say it to Sirius as he will discount my thoughts as a matter of course and cowardice. I must wonder what happened to my showoff, arrogant, posturing, yet good-hearted and kind friend. Sirius would say that he grew up. I can only wish that he grew up under better circumstances. I do see how he became who he is – this house is oppressive. It is, as we used to say when we were teenagers, “a drag” living here.

The small salon that we haven’t got around to cleaning out yet was opened two days ago for a delivery – because of the nature of the dark objects in the room, it’s been locked. An item that I know you are acquainted with – the Mirror of Erised, was locked in the room. I gather it has been stored at Hogwarts for some time but Dumbledore, for reasons of his own, decided to put it here for safekeeping. Before the door was closed, I managed to get a glimpse in it. I saw myself, with no scars, standing in the moonlight – clearly not a werewolf. Friends - including you, of course -surrounded me and I was wearing nicer clothes and holding several wonderful Defense volumes. I suppose my wildest fantasies and deepest dreams are rather prosaic after all. Sirius has been spending time in front of it, when he doesn’t think anyone is in the house, but he won’t talk about what he sees. I do not think having the mirror near a man who is… perhaps not completely well is the wisest course of action, nonetheless, it is his course of action. As a side note, Dumbledore noticed that several of the objects he remembered being in the room were no longer there. We are keeping a closer eye on the dark objects still in the house but have little way of knowing if something has been taken, or by whom.

Deliveries proceed as they always have. Only few people allow me to make deliveries for them. I must say that I do enjoy seeing smiles of pleasure when I arrive – or rather, when the requested item arrives. My employers all know what I am, though they never discuss it. I do not think many of the people I deliver to know, however. If they did, I’m sure they would be much less welcoming. I do wonder what they would say if a troupe of werewolves helped win the war. Would we still be ostracized?

Speaking of a troupe of werewolves- I spoke with the man I met in St. Mungos when Arthur was there – he’s doing well. I’ve been in touch with Kiaya Roundtree about him, though I’m not sure she wanted to be in touch with any more werewolves (myself included, I think). However, I figured that if she’s willing to work with one, two wouldn’t be a terrible imposition, especially if she can get research materials from them both. So far she hasn’t come up with much that’s different but she does supply me with the potion that keeps me from losing control once a month – I rather enjoy curling up in front of a warm fireplace in totally canine form. I can only hope that continued research will find a cure so I can spend less time on the floor. Should anyone be able to do it, she is a likely candidate, since she studied under Basilton, who invented the current medication. Severus Snape is no small slouch when it comes to potions research, either. Between the two of them, I have high hopes though try not to have any expectations.

Still speaking of werewolves, Dumbledore has contacted me about approaching the werewolf pack that Voldemort deals with. I’m not sure if I want to do it – they are a miserable, deadly lot and I would have to stop taking the potion that I have come to enjoy. I will not have to make a choice right now, but if they come to England, there may only be one choice to make.

I can’t imagine OWLS will be any different for you than they were for me. They are just tests – combined practical and written exams, similar to the exam that I gave you a couple of years ago. Because I know you, I sure you are well prepared for anything they might throw at you as long as you stay calm. There is a strict time limit so do try to write quickly, as I know that you do not always write the minimum answer. All questions are strictly regurgitation of fact and technique, you will not need to do very much actual thinking. As long as you stay calm and focused – and I know you will - you will do just fine, Hermione. I have complete faith in you. The only question that I specifically remember was “How would one tell the difference between a werewolf and canine wolf?” As I recall, I was not as sirius (sorry- habit) as I could have been in answering the question, but the board did accept my answer on the grounds that I, of all people, would know. I wonder if Madame Marchbanks will still be on the board? As far as I know, there are no effective study aids or drugs that promote it. I will look into it as much as I can, however, if you really want to know. I don’t think it would be a good idea, though. You don’t need one, anyway.

Yours,
Remus