Harry Potter fanfic--Student Teacher at Hogwarts
by Terri Wells

Chapter Thirteen - A Wrong Righted, a Right Wronged

July 6, 2001 - Evening

All heads turned to face Professors Dumbledore and McGonagall; some grinned in anticipation. Harry could tell from Hagrid's expression, though, that he had no clue what was coming. The headmaster took a moment to meet the eyes of everyone present, then continued. "Many of you know -- or have guessed -- where Hagrid and Madame Maxime will be spending their vacation. And all of you are well acquainted with Hagrid's history with Hogwarts." Dumbledore paused to look at Hagrid. The half-giant shifted uncomfortably in his chair, but the headmaster's benevolent glance settled him one more. "For much of the last half-century, he has served faithfully, first as an apprentice to Ogg, then as Keeper of the Keys and Grounds. He took on the additional responsibilities of teacher of the subject Care of Magical Creatures when the former teacher of that subject retired. To many of our students and alumni," here his gaze took in Ron, Harry, Sirius, and Remus, "he is as much a part of Hogwarts as playing quidditch and cheering on the house team.

"And yet," Dumbledore continued, "he has done all this -- even better than I could have hoped -- while laboring under a severe injustice." At Hagrid's shocked look, Dumbledore raised a quelling hand. "He was unfairly charged with a crime he did not commit, for which he paid a heavy price. This would make some people bitter." As Dumbledore again smiled benevolently at Hagrid, Harry thought of Argus Filch, the mean squib who took care of Hogwarts' buildings. "But not Hagrid. And now, thanks to new information which came to light" here Dumbledore glanced at Harry, who smiled back as a warm feeling filled his heart "and some expeditious work at the Ministry of Magic" here the headmaster glanced at Mr. Weasley "it gives me great pride to redress this horrible tragedy at last."

Dumbledore turned to Professor McGonagall and smoothly withdrew the box from the tote bag she carried. He unhooked the front of the lid, turned it to face his audience, and opened the box on its hinges. Harry and several others gasped. In the box, lying on a fitted cushion of gold-colored velvet, was the longest, thickest wand that Harry had ever seen. "Rubeus Hagrid," said Professor Dumbledore, "come here and claim your wand."

Hagrid was so astonished that Sirius had to poke him not once, not twice, but three times before he shook himself, stood up, and slowly walked over to where Dumbledore stood. He looked from one professor to the other, still not quite believing what he'd just heard. He started to reach for the wand, then stopped. "Is...is this really happenin'?" he whispered.

Professor McGonagall nodded. "Go on, take it," she said. "I've waited a long time to see this."

Hagrid took a deep breath, then finally grasped the wand. Once he grasped it, he turned and laughed, a giant grin on his face. "YES!" he shouted. He waved the wand and sent multicolored sparks sailing toward the ceiling. "It's me old wand! Me OLD WAND! All whole..." Hagrid ran his fingers over the wand, as if looking for any imperfections. "How...?" he asked, turning again to the two smiling professors.

"As Minerva assured me, the core was never broken," Dumbledore explained. "Once Mr. Ollivander received the appropriate paperwork, the repair was simplicity itself for someone of his skill." As Hagrid continued gaping, Dumbledore continued, "I've been in touch with Madame Maxime, and she agreed to complete your wizardly education."

"You will study hard, I trust?" Professor McGonagall cut in, suddenly the serious instructor once again.

"Yes ma'am," said Hagrid quickly. The corners of his mouth quirked up just a bit as he added, "But it won' be th' same wit'out you t' tutor me."

Hagrid turned to go back to his seat, but Dumbledore put his hand on the half-giant's arm. "We're not quite finished with you yet," he said, eyes twinkling with delight.

"Ye mean there's more?" Hagrid asked, patently unable to believe what he'd just heard. Harry silently agreed with him. What could be better than getting his old wand back?

"Given where you and Madame Maxime will be traveling," Dumbledore began, "and in light of your new status as a wizard completing your education, I thought you should have...appropriate clothing." The headmaster set down the wand box on a nearby table and stroked his beard thoughtfully. "Let's see...as I recall, you had nearly finished your third year, which would make this, in a sense, the equivalent of your fourth year, yes?"

"Yes sir," said Hagrid, nodding. He looked straight at the headmaster as he spoke. Harry, however, stole a quick glance at Professor McGonagall. She shifted the now-empty red and gold tote bag she carried from her arm to her hand, and sureptitiously drew her wand from her robes. Harry grinned, nudged Ron, and pointed at the transfiguration teacher. Ron looked a question at his best friend, but Harry just pointed.

"Unless I'm terribly mistaken," Dumbledore continued, "fourth year students are required to have dress robes. Is that not right?"

"Eh, yes sir," said Hagrid again, still apparently not sure where this was going.

Ron finally got it, however; eyes wide, he spun back to Harry, who just grinned. "You knew!" he whispered.

"No, I guessed," Harry whispered back. "Just watch, okay?"

"Bet his robes won't have lace trim," Ron said under his breath. Harry covered his mouth, stifling a chuckle. Ron's mother had purchased Ron's dress robes secondhand, and they must have belonged to a female student in their previous life...a fact made crystal clear by the lace trim around the neck and sleeves. Harry hoped that Fred and George would soon make good on their promise to purchase Ron new dress robes.

"Yes. Well, I'm afraid your good suit doesn't quite measure up. Minerva?"

Harry never thought to see such a large grin on Professor McGonagall's face. She held the tote bag high in the air with one hand, and touched it with her wand. Instantly, the tote bag transformed into wizard's dress robes. But what dress robes! Clearly sized for Hagrid, the heavy red velvet fabric was embroidered all over with figures of fantastic beasts, done in gold. The matching hat held no embroidery, however. Circling around the entire pointed headgear was a gold applique of a dragon, lightly stuffed to stand out.

If Hagrid had been shocked before, he was utterly speechless now. His eyes moved from the wand in his hand, to the dress robes, to Professor McGonagall, and finally to Professor Dumbledore. Several times he opened and closed his mouth, but no sound came out. He took a deep breath, then let it out slowly. "I can' thank ye enough," he said at last, his voice quavering. "But...I'll do ye proud. I swear it!"

As if the words released a huge dam, everyone applauded and cheered. Harry found himself on his feet with Ron and several others as Hagrid hugged Dumbledore, McGonagall, and anyone else who got close enough. The young wizard noticed curiously that Terri Weasley went back for seconds on the hugs. When everyone finally settled down again, Terri had returned to Harry and Ron's table to finish her dinner, and the three of them were quickly joined by a beaming Hagrid. His new dress robes floated in midair about a foot away from him, but he put his empty wand box on the floor next to his chair, unwilling to let go of his wand just yet.

"Wow, Hagrid, that's quite a wand," Terri observed, smiling. "Lord and lady, I think it's longer than my cousin Ron's by a good three inches at least!"

Harry looked up at her comment, giving both Terri and Ron a quick glance. Terri was straight-faced; Ron paused in his eating for a moment, as if trying to decide whether or not to notice his cousin's statement. Being Ron, of course, he made his usual decision, and went back to devouring a drumstick.

Hagrid nodded at Terri, seeming not to notice any of the byplay. "I was very lucky the day I got my wand," he said. He got a dreamy expression. "I can remember it as if 'twere yesterday. Me dad came wi' me, o' course. Mr. Ollivander knew right away I'd need a long one, b'cause of my size. When 'e brung out this one" here Hagrid held his wand up "'e said 'e rarely got in any so long or so hard...it's oak, you see." Hagrid leaned forward and in a confidential voice added, "I was so proud when I got me wand I wanted to show it to everyone -- even though it's not the proper thing, you know. It's, eh, showing off." Sitting back, he shook his head, only reluctantly coming back to the present. "Me dad was so proud of me...oh, I'll remember that day forever."

While Harry was touched by the memory, he also found it difficult to keep a straight face through this recitation. About midway through, Ron swallowed hard and reached desperately for his glass of pumpkin juice. He didn't -- quite -- do a spit take when Hagrid got to the end of it.

Terri's expression softened to one of sympathy. "It must have broke your heart when it was broken," she said softly.

"Aye," said Hagrid, sighing heavily. "I kept it -- hidden away, like. After all," he shrugged, "who wants ter see a broken wand? Yer cousin Ron could tell ye about that; his wand broke at th' start o' his second year, and by the end o' the second term 'twasn't any good to anyone. Right, lad?"

Harry looked helplessly at Ron. This time, Ron did do a spit take, and barely managed a nod in response.

Terri acknowledged Ron's reaction -- if not his discomfort -- and looked admiringly from Hagrid to his wand. "It's too lovely to keep hidden," she said at last. "I'll bet you're glad it's finally whole again!"

"Amen to that!" Hagrid agreed. "I haven't been able ter use it...well, use it proper-like...in longer 'n I want to think about. Although," here he blushed, "if ye want to know the truth, I was never very good with it."

Terri rolled her eyes. "Well, for goodness' sake, what do you expect? You only had use of it for what, two, three years? That's not enough time to learn how to use your wand properly," she said, waving her hand dismissively. "Now this Madame Maxime...I remember you told me about her when you told me about the Triwizard Tournament..." Terri's expression clouded for a moment, but she seemed to shake it off. "You said she's French, yes?" Hagrid nodded. "Well," Terri continued, "I've heard that the French are quite clever; I imagine she'll teach you how to do things with your wand that you never thought possible!"

It was Harry's turn to do a spit take. Ron, by this time, had his hand over his mouth, his head under the table, and was making the strangest noises. At that moment, Harry's godfather showed up at the table, carrying a plate of food. As he handed the plate to Hagrid, he gave the two boy wizards a puzzled look.

"Here, Hagrid," said Sirius, "you left your dinner at the other table." He squinted closer at Harry while Hagrid set the plate down on the table. "Harry, are you quite all right?" When Harry bobbed his head in response, the animagi looked at Ron, then at Hagrid and Terri. "Is something wrong?"

"Not at all," Terri replied. "We were just discussing Hagrid's wand, is all."

"Oh. Really?" Sirius raised an eyebrow; somehow, he seemed much more curious than the subject warranted. "Is that a private discussion, or can anyone join in?"

"Oh, the more the merrier!" Terri replied emphatically. Turning back to Hagrid, she said, "You said the wood is oak. Let me take a wild guess: the core is dragon heartstring, yes?"

"Blimey, it is!" Hagrid replied. His hand hit the table hard enough to make his plate bounce. "How did ye know?"

"I had a one-in-three chance, since you got it from Ollivander's, and since you love dragons so much..." Terri shrugged, then hesitantly held out her hand. "I just got a new one myself this week at Ollivander's, and it's also dragon heartstring. May I try yours?"

Hagrid hesitated but a moment before handing it over. "Be my guest."

Terri ran her fingers lightly over the length of the wand, admiring the wood. Then she grasped it firmly, and pointed it straight up. Her brows knit in concentration for a second or two, then bright white sparks spurted from the tip of the wand. She smiled gratefully, and handed it back. "Thank you," she said.

Hagrid returned her grin. "My pleasure."

Sirius, still standing, was strangely overcome with a coughing fit just then. Ron was nearly on the floor by this time. Harry was trying not to snort any food out of his nose. Unfortunately, the noise attracted a bit more attention. Harry's efforts acquired a touch of desperation as he saw his transfiguration professor approaching the table. Her normally stern expression was softened by concern. Harry grabbed Ron's shirt and tugged, hoping to urge him back into his chair.

"Is someone choking?" asked Professor McGonagall, taking out her wand as she spoke. Sirius barely managed to stop coughing, and shook his head. "Well then, what's with all the hullabullo over here?"

"I honestly don't know," said Terri. Her voice sounded just a bit higher than earlier, Harry noticed. "I was just...admiring Hagrid's wand."

"Really?" asked McGonagall. She sounded skeptical.

"Well...yes," said Terri, gesturing weakly at the object in question. "I mean, it's so...big. And it looks brand new; you'd never know it'd been broken. And so shiny, too," she finished lamely.

"Heavens, it should be shiny," said Professor McGonagall. "I polished it myself just this afternoon." Barely pausing, the deputy headmistress gave everyone at the table a stern look. "I understand the fascination for the subject -- and I know this is a party -- but could you please be less...boisterous in discussing it? Thank you." So saying, she spun on her heel and went back to the far table, robes billowing out behind her in a very Snape-like fashion.

No one at Harry's table could stop laughing for at least five minutes. Sirius was on his knees, holding onto the top of the table, when he finally managed to gasp out something intelligible. "Hagrid," he choked, "I didn't know you had it in you."

This statement set off another fit of laughter, while Hagrid barely managed to reply. "Had what in me? Mr. Black," the half-giant paused, red-faced, to stifle a chuckle, "I don' have any idea what yer talkin' about." Hagrid's attempt at an innocent look failed completely...but not before everyone else at the table looked at his face and were once again reduced to helpless laughter.

After the five of them managed to calm themselves down to the occassional giggle, Hagrid picked up his wooden wand box and finally put his wand inside. Closing it, he added, "Think I'd better put this away now." With a quick glance at Sirius and Terri, he added, "It's not, eh, comforting fer a wizard ter have 'is wand bein' laughed over." More serious giggles accompanied this comment.

Remus came over to Harry's table, holding his head. He looked pained from the loud laughter, but managed a weak grin. "Padfoot, you left your dinner. Will you eat at this table or...?"

"This table," Sirius said. "Harry, can I borrow your wand a second?" With a nod, Harry handed over his wand. "Hagrid, would you stand up and away from the table a bit? Thanks." Sirius tapped the table with his wand, and it expanded to accommodate two more diners, exactly as if someone had just added a leaf. Sirius handed the wand back to Harry. Everyone settled back into place. Remus and Sirius brought over two full dinner plates and two chairs.

"So, are you going to tell me what was so funny?" Remus asked.

Sirius shook his head. "You're not going to believe this, but these two teachers here" he indicated Hagrid and Terri with his fork "were contributing to the delinquency of my godson."

"Sirius, you wound me!" Terri gasped, clutching at her heart.

"Actually, I do believe it," said Remus, straight-faced. "All Hagrid would have to do to contribute to Harry's delinquency is tell him some of the Marauder stories we haven't told him yet."

Sirius looked back down at his dinner, a bit embarrassed. "You always could keep me honest," he said.

Harry looked from Remus to Sirius to Hagrid in surprise. Hagrid shrugged. "Professor Dumbledore b'lieves everyone deserves a second chance," he said. Looking straight at Harry, he added, "I figure, once Mr. Black gets 'is name cleared, you'll be livin' wit' him -- an' it's hard enough ter be a father wit'out havin' yer kid knowin' all about yer rowdy days."

Terri paused in taking a drink of pumpkin juice. "You sound like you're talking from experience," she commented. Sirius and Remus both turned to look at Hagrid. Harry realized they must have been thinking the same thing he was just then: had Hagrid ever been a father?

But Hagrid shook his head and sighed. "Naw," he said. "Not n'less you count mischief makers like these two were...and yer twin cousins are," he said to Terri. "I've thought about it a lot, but..." Hagrid sighed again, shook his head, and returned his attention to his dinner. Somehow that seemed to close the subject.

The conversation continued, but on more sedate subjects. Ron told Harry about the deatheater attack on his brothers, with Terri, who had been there, supplying more details. Remus had looked pale before, but turned paler when he heard about this. He glanced at Sirius, who frowned and furrowed his brows. "I don't like it at all," he said. "I know of several potions calling for the heart of a pureblood witch or wizard, and all of them reek of Dark Arts."

Terri nodded, then frowned in her turn. "They're more like some sort of stew rather than a potion," she added. Harry looked down at his half-eaten dinner, and pushed it away. There was no stew on his plate, but he found himself losing his appetite. Terri continued, oblivious to the young wizard's reaction. "I've been trying to think of what potion would include all the ingredients they mentioned, but..." she shrugged helplessly. "When Gavin covered Dark Arts potions, he sort of skimmed over them, and I certainly never made any." She made a face. "In the one book I have seen that covered Dark Arts potions the illustrations were enough to scare me off."

Harry remembered the drawings he saw from the recipe for Polyjuice Potion that Hermione had ripped out of Most Potente Potions, and shuddered. From the way Terri and his godfather were talking, that potion and its effects were mild compared to what a true Dark Arts potion could do. He exchanged a look with Ron, and saw that his best friend was thinking along the same lines.

"If Hermione was here," the red-haired wizard put forward hesitantly, "she'd suggest we go looking in the library for --"

But the rest of his sentence was cut off when Remus suddenly cried out, grabbed his head, and fell out of his chair.

"Moony!" Sirius cried. He all but leaped over the table to get to the side of his longtime friend. Despite being halfway across the room at another table, Dumbledore was next to the werewolf in the same instant. Harry was on his feet, afraid for his former teacher. The headaches Remus had been experiencing today were a new development, so far as he knew; he was sure the "three day migraine" that Mundungus Fletcher mentioned earlier had been just an excuse to explain Lupin's illness.

Driven by that thought, Harry looked up at the ceiling in the Great Hall, which magically mimicked the sky above it. The moon shone full and bright. With a gasp, he looked back to Remus, Sirius, and Dumbledore. The latter two were kneeling on the floor on either side of Remus -- who, Harry realized, should have been transforming into a werewolf at this very moment...but remained human.

"It's...the new potion," Remus said weakly.

"I feared this might happen," Dumbledore replied, almost to himself. "Mr. Lupin --"

"Knew... the risks...when I agreed," the werewolf gasped out. He swallowed hard as his face contorted with another wave of pain. Harry noticed, with some alarm, that it wasn't just his face that contorted. Several of his limbs kept trying to stretch into impossible positions for a second or two, then stopping for a while. It's like his body is trying to transform, but can't, thought Harry.

Professor McGonagall arrived on the scene, and stopped just behind the headmaster. "Minerva," he said, without turning, "please summon a stretcher and take Mr. Lupin to the infirmary. Poppy needs to see him at once." He stood up, then drew something out of his robes and handed it over to the transfiguration teacher. Harry could only make out a bundle of leather straps, worn-looking but well cared for. "In case of emergency," Dumbledore explained. McGonagall's lips became a thin line, but she nodded. Hagrid, still sitting in his chair next to Remus, also noticed this exchange. His eyes widened, and he opened his mouth as if to say something, but stopped. With a sigh and a resigned expression, he nodded. A contingency plan, thought Harry. If he transforms, they're going to strap him down. The boy wizard shuddered, and looked to his godfather.

By this time Professor McGonagall had summoned a stretcher and carefully levitated Remus on top of it. Remus groaned as his limbs stretched and twitched again. Harry was dimly aware that Terri was assisting the professor, saying she wanted to see if her potions experience could help Madame Pomfrey. "I'm going too," Sirius insisted. "As Snuffles, I can keep him safe -- make sure he isn't a danger to anyone."

"No." The headmaster spoke the single word gently but firmly, leaving no room for argument.

Sirius argued anyway. "That's my friend," he said, a low growl in his voice. "I've never just stood by and let my friends be taken away to the infirmary without me, and I'm not about to start. Not when I can help."

By this time McGonagall and Terri were moving quickly to the doors of the Great Hall. Sirius moved to follow; Dumbledore grasped his arm to stop him. Sirius glared. "You can't stop me!"

"I can -- and I must. I'm sorry." Dumbledore looked truly sorry, but was as unyielding as his former student. Sirius squinted his eyes, and harshly jerked his arm free -- or tried to. His eyes widened in surprise at the strength of Dumbledore's grip. He tried again, harder, and again the ancient wizard's grip held. Sirius looked from Dumbledore's hand to his face, as surprised as a large German shepherd losing a dogfight to a miniature poodle. By this time Terri, McGonagall, and Remus were through the doors, which magically opened to let them pass, and closed behind them. Sighing, Dumbledore added, "I have several reasons to keep you here rather than let you join Remus. Are you prepared to listen?"

Sirius looked again at the hand gripping his arm -- which, Harry noticed, was glowing slightly with the same powerful aura he'd seen surrounding Dumbledore's entire body before -- then met the professor's eyes. "It would seem that I have no choice," he said sarcastically.

Dumbledore rolled his eyes. "There are always choices, Sirius; do you remember none of your lessons? You could choose to close your ears and ignore me; that is a popular choice among certain members of the Ministry of Magic of late."

Harry heard the hint of irritation in Dumbledore's voice, and exchanged a look with Ron. Clearly, their headmaster had been very busy since the end of the term. If his impatience with MoM was already showing, it boded ill for getting any help from that quarter in fighting Voldemort, now that the dark mage had returned. Harry had known as much -- had heard Dumbledore say that Fudge was a lost cause -- but had hoped otherwise. Apparently, so had Dumbledore.

Sirius sighed, the tension in his body relaxing just a fraction. "All right," he grated out. "I'll listen." The professor let go of his arm; Sirius rubbed the spot where he had been held, then crossed his arms in front of his chest. His entire stance, though still respectful, all but commanded the headmaster to start talking, and fast.

Dumbledore nodded. "First of all," he said, "Madame Pomfrey is not familiar with the...truth of your situation. You may be able to get around her as Snuffles," he said, holding up a hand as Sirius opened his mouth to protest, "but you cannot get around her current patient that way."

"Wha...?" Sirius lowered his brows. "Alastor is still in the infirmary?" he all but demanded. Dumbledore nodded. "But...he should be at St. Mungo's after what he's been through!" he sputtered.

"I know," said Dumbledore, a resigned smile curling up the edges of his lips. "But he said he trusted Madame Pomfrey over the doctors and nurses at that hospital."

Sirius groaned. "You mean he said he distrusted her less," he edited. "I should have known; he never trusts anyone easily."

"Just so," Dumbledore agreed. Sirius looked as if he still wanted to argue. "I will tell you anything as soon as I know it myself," the professor continued. "Indeed, I expect to hear something within the next half hour..." he drew out his pocket-watch. "...and our other guest of honor is due in before then."

* * * * * * * *

Terri's mind raced as she jogged alongside Professor McGonagall and the stretcher holding Remus. She'd seen bad reactions to potions before...and she didn't like the direction of this one. "What did he take?" she panted. The Wolfsbane potion isn't supposed to do this...but then, he DID say something about a "new potion"... she thought.

"A variant of Wolfsbane -- it's still experimental," McGonagall gasped. "Albus used his connections to get Remus and Poppy into the program. It's like the old Wolfsbane, but it also contains something to prevent the transformation altogether." A heart-rending groan from Remus as his body contorted yet again told of the potion's lack of success.

Terri drew her wand as she ran. While one part of her brain cursed the distance to the infirmary, another part tried desperately to remember some spell that would ease the werewolf's fits. Jellylegs? Or might that just make things worse? she worried.

Terri was only dimly aware of the excited whisperings of the paintings that they passed. Remus suffered another fit just as they reached the halfway point. The two witches tried to comfort him, but could not prevent it from running its course. As the wizard's breathing grew shallow, Terri and McGonagall exchanged a look. The older witch gave the merest nod, which Terri returned. Pointing her wand at Remus, she said "Stupefy." With a sigh, Remus slipped into unconsciousness.

"At least this way he isn't suffering," said McGonagall as they continued the dash to the infirmary.

"Don't be so sure," Terri replied. A couple of minutes later, Remus' limbs contorted in another fit, despite his lack of consciousness. Damnit, they're getting closer together -- and lasting longer, too. It confirmed that his involuntary systems were doing the work...and Terri knew of no way to turn those off without risking serious damage.

Peeves blocked the entrance to the infirmary. "Ickle werewolves not howling at the moon tonight?" he asked in his singsong voice.

"You'll be howling in a minute," Terri shot back.

"Stand aside Peeves, this is an emergency!" exclaimed McGonagall.

Before Peeves could react, Remus rocked with another fit...and this time, not only did his limbs twitch, but Terri could have sworn she saw them start to actually stretch out of shape. "Run him over," she growled, and pushed the wheeled stretcher forward, straight for the infirmary doors. Peeves' expression changed from amusement to horror; he popped out just as the stretcher would have hit him.

Madame Pomfrey rushed forward from her office. "What happened?" she asked, running her hands over her patient.

"He clutched his head and collapsed at dinner," McGonagall explained. "He thinks it's a reaction to the new potion. He --"

Just then Remus groaned and awoke from the Stupefy. Breathing raggedly, he opened his eyes and slowly looked around. "Poppy?" He asked weakly, focusing on the witch. Then his body began to twitch again -- but not before he'd forced one hand over his mouth and began swallowing hard. Madame Pomfrey materialized a bucket out of thin air and rolled Remus partly onto his side, putting his face over the bucket. Professor McGonagall looked away, embarassed for his dignity. Terri also looked away, covering her own mouth as she did so. She nearly retched with him by the time he finished.

"Waste of good food," Remus said hoarsely as he settled back onto the stretcher. At his comment, Terri turned to face him -- and was surprised to see the ghost of a smile on his lips. Lord and Lady, she thought, he's cracking JOKES at a time like this?! She could only shake her head in surprise.

Madame Pomfrey clucked as she examined him. "I was afraid of this," she muttered. "Your body's been transforming every month for so long it's fighting the potion. That's what these fits are about."

"Can you give him more potion?" McGonagall asked.

Madame Pomfrey all but glared at the transfiguration teacher. "And set up a feedback loop? Not with MY patient!" She rolled up one of the sleeves on Remus' robes for a closer look at his arm, and hissed. Even Terri could tell it had stretched some since the fits began. "Not good," Pomfrey said under her breath. More loudly, she added, "Help me get him on a bed -- and out of these robes. I need to see what his body's been doing."

Professor McGonagall opened her mouth in surprise, but Terri dived right in to help, effectively cutting short any protests. I've never seen him without clothes before, Terri thought, but he certainly looks hairier than I would have figured. Judging from Poppy's reaction, Remus was not normally so hirsute.

"I'll have to cancel the potion," Pomfrey said. To Remus, she added, "I'd better get you a Draught of Living Death, before your body --"

"Isn't that dangerous? In his state, I mean," Terri added hastily, immediately wishing she hadn't spoken up at all. Never tell a witch her job, she thought, and cursed herself up and down for making the kind of mistake she'd warned Deidre against.

Pomfrey glared, and let her breath out in a puff. "Yes, it is," she explained patiently, "and even more so considering I'll have to cancel that potion before I can feed him something that cancels the potion that's causing the problem in the first place." Remus cried out as another fit roiled through his limbs, and Pomfrey had to hold him down to keep him from falling out of the bed. "But that canceller has to be mixed up fresh or it isn't potent enough. That takes time." She gestured with her head toward her patient, and let Terri fill in the rest.

She doesn't know how long his body can take this before he's permanently damaged, Terri realized. "Isn't there some other way?" she asked hesitantly.

"Not unless you know some way of turning off the moon," Pomfrey replied tartly.

Turning off the moon? Terri was hit with sudden inspiration. Wait a minute...what if the moon can't REACH him? Her eyes widened. She remembered something she'd read in one of her Wicca books about the casting of a circle, and the nature of that sacred space .She didn't think for a minute it would be this simple, but..."Let me try something," she said, wand in hand.

At Pomfrey's raised eyebrows and McGonagall's nod, Terri took a deep breath and closed her eyes. She'd been casting circles long enough she didn't have to go through the whole ritual with all the trimmings. Just extend her wand, rotate herself clockwise, silently salute the four quarters -- east, south, west, and north -- and visualize the sacred space. She pictured a bubble of protective energy enclosing herself, McGonagall, Remus, and Pomfrey. As she completed the ritual, she took a deep breath, whispered "So mote it be," exhaled completely, and opened her eyes. Remus lay still and calm on the bed, gradually taking deeper breaths. But the two older witches stared slack-jawed at her in astonishment.

Terri soon realized why they were staring. The marking of the sacred space, and its visualization, was a mind exercise. There were those who claimed to have actually seen the energy with their own eyes, but Terri never had, and was skeptical of such claims. It's not "real" magic, after all, Terri thought. Now she would have to modify her judgement. Surrounding all four of them, just as she had visualized, was a bubble of energy -- pulsing and flowing, as transparent as pale blue tafetta, but definitely there.

McGonagall recovered first. "Wh-what did you do?" she asked.

"Um..." How do I explain this? Terri took another deep breath, and plunged right in. "I cast a circle. It's the first ritual a Wiccan performs when she's about to -- well, about to do just about anything: pray, meditate, cast spells, anything to do with the craft. It marks off a sacred space."

"Whatever you did, it looks like it worked," Madame Pomfrey cut in. She had recovered herself during Terri's explanation and went to examine her patient. Remus' features had relaxed, his breathing had returned almost to normal, and he was moving his limbs carefully, as if checking to see if everything still worked.

"For the moment, anyway," Remus agreed, looking much relieved. "My arms and legs feel sore, and my head is still throbbing, but it's not nearly as bad as it was before."

Professor McGonagall shook her head. "I'm not sure I understand," she said. "How could this `casting a circle' help Remus?"

"I think I can answer that," the werewolf cut in. He sat up slowly, cautiously assisted by Madame Pomfrey. "`Marking off a sacred space' moves that space -- in a metaphorical sense, at least -- out of THIS world." He raised his eyebrows questioningly at Terri.

The young witch nodded. "That's right. The whole idea is that the sacred space is in a place between worlds. It's supposed to be like a container, to raise and concentrate positive energy -- but also like a barrier, to keep out negative energy."

McGonagall's eyes widened with understanding. "So that means--"

"That we've moved into a place where the moon's energy can't reach me," Remus finished.

"That's all well and good," Madame Pomfrey cut in, all but wringing her hands, "but my potions lab is back in that other place. How do I get there from here?"

Terri smiled. "Easy." Using her wand, she "cut" a space in the bubble big enough for Pomfrey to slip through. She pointed her wand at the space, and the energy within it reduced, but did not disappear. "This will let you out without letting anything in -- go through it quickly." As Pomfrey did so, Terri cursed to herself. I felt that energy that leaked out of the bubble with her; I'd better reinforce the shield.

"Can you hear me?" came a muffled voice. It was Pomfrey.

"Yes," McGonagall replied. Terri was not surprised; she'd cast the circle only to keep out negative energy, after all. They could see through it; there was no reason they shouldn't be able to hear through it, too.

"I'm going to mix up the canceler now. It should be ready in about 20 minutes. Minerva, you'd better..." But before Pomfrey could finish her sentence, the transfiguration professor withdrew a set of leather straps from her robes and held them up. Pomfrey nodded, and left the room.

"What is that?!" Terri asked. Professor McGonagall held onto one thick strap, about three feet long. At either end of the strap was another strap, just as thick, but much shorter, and set perpendicular to the first strap -- so that the two shorter straps were parallel to each other. At either end of each of the shorter straps were other straps, thinner and more flexible-looking, with buckles and holes; these were obviously intended to fasten around something. There were a total of four of these straps that buckled. Terri could not imagine what this item was used for; it certainly didn't look as though it could restrain anything.

Remus smiled sadly, a look of resignation on his face. "That," he said, "is a werewolf restrainer. The only one of its kind, I suspect; certainly the oldest. I only wish it had been available during the first few years I was at Hogwarts, at least...but I understand it was, ah, being used."

Terri went over to McGonagall and examined the item. It certainly looked old; though well-kept, Terri guessed from the visible wear that it might be older than the woman holding it. "Where did it come from?" she wondered, hardly realizing she'd spoken aloud.

"Professor Dumbledore said it was a `family heirloom' of sorts," Remus explained. His strength seemed to be returning; he was now sitting up in bed comfortably, unaided, with his knees bent and his arms resting on his knees.

"So this was made by someone in his family?" Terri asked. She tried very hard to look Remus in the eyes, not in the...biceps. Even under the dark hair, she could see the strength in his arms. Don't look at his chest, or you'll never get through this without blushing, she told herself sternly.

"Actually, I got the impression it was given to someone in his family," Remus elaborated, indicating the item. "But that's for the headmaster to tell."

It would make sense, Terri thought. After all, how many headmasters would allow a werewolf to attend classes like any other student? If Dumbledore had a werewolf in his family, though...perhaps one he even knew personally...well, then he'd certainly have a lot more firsthand experience of werewolves than the average headmaster. Enough experience, in fact, to understand that werewolves are just like everyone else except for three days of the month. Enough experience, indeed, to be willing to allow a werewolf to attend classes...and to create a plan to keep the werewolf, and the rest of the school and the surrounding area, safe from harm. It certainly fits in with everything Sirius told me about his school days!

Presently Madame Pomfrey returned with the potion. She mixed up the thick, yellowish-brown liquid with a glass stirrer, and carried it over to the edge of the sacred circle in a clear beaker, not a goblet. Terri caught a whiff of the potion; it smelled like rotten eggs. She swallowed hard. Remus has to drink THAT? she thought. I don't envy him one bit.

"You'd better get that harness on him now, Minerva," said Pomfrey. "This canceler will lose its potency in about ten minutes."

"I'll help," Terri offered.

"No, but thanks," said McGonagall. She'd already lined the back strap up with the werewolf's spine, and started buckling his arms into the straps. "Part of the magic of this harness is it obeys only the commands of the person who buckles it on."

"Oh?" Terri asked, curious.

McGonagall nodded, and indicated Remus. "I can tell it to keep him within a certain distance of me, for example, or of some other object -- or I can even tell it to keep him no further away from me than fifty feet, but no closer than ten." She looked down, a bit uncomfortable as she spoke. "It also... adjusts to fit when he transforms."

Remus stretched as the transfiguration professor closed the final strap, then bowed gracefully to her -- as gracefully as one could in a sitting position, at any rate. "I am naught but your slave, fair mistress," he said to her, a gentlemanly smile on his face.

McGonagall groaned. "Mr. Lupin, this is...hard enough, without you...sitting there and making JOKES about it!" Her face clearly showed her pain. The thought that she might have to order around one of her former students -- and colleagues -- as if he was no more than an animal plainly weighed heavily on her mind.

"Ah, but that's where we differ, Professor," Remus replied, raising one finger as if lecturing. "For me, this would be...far TOO hard if I did not make jokes about it." For just a moment, his eyes showed his pain. Then he turned to Terri and Madame Pomfrey. "I think we're ready now."

Terri nodded. This would be the hard part. When Pomfrey left the sacred space, Terri had opened it in such a way that things could be let out, but nothing could come in. Now, she would have to open it so that things could come in...but nothing could leave. She could do that easily enough. But when she had opened the "gate" the first time, it had let out some energy along with the medical witch. Now, when Terri opened the gate into the sacred space, Pomfrey would be able to come back in...but so could other things. Things such as the moon's energy, which is what Terri was trying to block in the first place. Taking a deep breath, the wiccan witch half-closed her eyes and raised her wand. "Brace yourself, Remus; this will let in more than just Madame Pomfrey." Remus nodded understanding as Terri traced the gate. So did Pomfrey. Still mixing the potion, she moved through the opening as soon as she saw the energy dim. As soon as she was through, Terri closed the gate.

Remus groaned. Terri spun at the noise. She couldn't tell for certain, but she thought his limbs might have stretched again. She could tell for certain that his nails had grown and darkened. His nose and mouth looked slightly altered in shape, and his canines seemed longer. "I feel like I'm caught in a slow-motion special effect," he said, sighing.

"You know about Muggle movies?" Terri asked as Madame Pomfrey wordlessly handed him the beakerful of potion.

Remus nodded. "I spent some time in the Muggle world; for a while, it was the only place I could get work. Every Muggle knows werewolves don't really exist, after all," he finished with an ironic nod. He wrinkled his nose as he put the beaker to his lips. "My dear Madame Pomfrey, I do believe you've outdone yourself this time." He bowed to the witch.

"Just drink it, or I'll have outdone myself for nothing," Pomfrey retorted, and rolled her eyes.

Remus held his nose and did so, as quickly as he could. He nearly gagged twice, but persevered. After he finished, he passed the beaker back to Pomfrey, who watched him closely.

"Should I drop the --?" Terri began, but Pomfrey held up a hand and shushed her.

For a moment, nothing happened, aside from the werewolf's deep breathing. Then, he jerked, put his hands to his mouth, and made gagging noises, followed by frantic swallowing. Madame Pomfrey rushed to his aid...but this time, instead of conjuring a bucket, she tried to prevent him from needing one. "You can keep it down," she whispered, holding her patient. "You've swallowed worse, come on, you can do it."

It took a couple of minutes, but Remus finally settled down. "Merlin's beard," he groaned, "why do ALL the medicines that are supposed to help me taste worse than Hagrid's cooking?"

Before Terri had a chance to wonder if Hagrid was really that bad a cook, Madame Pomfrey asked Remus, "Are you ready for the shield to go away?" At the werewolf's nod, Terri again turned in a circle, saluting and thanking the four quarters as she did so. Again, she ended the ritual with a deep breath and the appropriate words -- so mote it be.

She didn't notice an immediate difference in Remus when she opened her eyes. But within a few seconds, he began to change. His limbs didn't shift any further, but he grew hairier...much hairier. His fangs grew in fully, and his nails turned into claws. His eyes retained their intelligence, however...and the transfiguration seemed to stop after about three minutes.

"What happened?" asked Remus. "It feels like it stopped...but I'm not done." He looked down at his hands, his face -- what could be seen underneath all the hair -- clearly puzzled that they hadn't turned into paws.

Madame Pomfrey frowned and shook her head. "I wasn't expecting that," she sighed.

"Expecting what?" asked Remus, an edge of worry in his voice. He looked from Pomfrey to McGonagall to Terri in concern.

In reply, Terri leaned her forehead into one of her hands and shook her head. "Remus Lupin," she sighed, finally looking him in the eyes, "you look like a cross between a Wookie and the Wolfman...done by a drunken make-up artist."

"Really?" he asked, raising his eyebrows. "This I have to see." Madame Pomfrey helpfully supplied him with a mirror. He looked into it and started. After staring at his reflection for a few seconds, he frowned. "Well, there goes my dignity...as if I ever had any," he murmured thoughtfully.

"How do you feel?" asked Madame Pomfrey.

Remus stared off into the distance, eyes unfocused, as if looking inward rather than outward. "My arms and legs ache, and my head feels like something is trying to burst out of it," he said. "As to the rest..." he shook his head. "The transformation is not complete -- and I never thought I'd say this, but it's actually frustrating that it's incomplete. It's like my body wants to go the rest of the way, but can't." He grinned a bit sheepishly, unintentionally showing his fangs. "I'm afraid the closest word I can think of to describe the sensation is `constipated.'"

Terri covered her mouth and stifled a chuckle. Professor McGonagall frowned and raised an eyebrow, but made no comment. Madame Pomfrey tapped her lips thoughtfully with one finger. She smiled faintly. "That's helpful to know," she said slowly, "but this is going to take something other than the standard laxative." Becoming serious again, she continued, "It could be that the moon's rays aren't reaching you strongly enough to get you the rest of the way. Minerva, why don't you go ahead and take him outside?"

"Outside?" Professor McGonagall looked very worried. "But Madame Maxime is due any time now...if I take him outside the front gates of the castle --"

"Ah, but there's more than one way in and out of Hogwarts," Remus cut in, grinning widely. "I personally know of at least seven."

"Really?" asked McGonagall, using the tone of voice that Terri was sure sent shivers up and down students' spines. "That would explain a great deal that happened while you were a student here, Mr. Lupin." The werewolf attempted to look innocent, with little success. McGonagall sighed. "Well, lead the way, then."

"Keep a good watch on him," Pomfrey called worriedly after the pair.

"Of course," McGonagall called over her shoulder as the two left the infirmary.

Madame Pomfrey let out her breath and shook her head when they left. "I'm a healer, not a researcher," she grumbled. Slowly, she began to gather up the beaker, bucket, and the rest of the mess in the infirmary.

"Do you have any idea why that happened?" asked Terri, moving to help.

"Oh --" Pomfrey frowned, then shrugged. "Well, with Lupin having been bitten at so young an age -- put that on this tray, would you? Thanks -- his reactions were likely to be...different, to begin with." Pomfrey disposed of the used bucket, and began stripping the bed. "I admit, I made the canceler a bit less strong than perhaps I should have; I was hoping I'd be able to go back to the same effect as the Wolfsbane potion --"

"Where he could transform, but still keep his mind?" Terri asked. She moved to strip the pillowcase off the pillow, and then did so when Pomfrey nodded.

"Yes, that's what I was hoping would happen," Pomfrey elaborated. She deposited the sheets in a large white hamper nearby. "It might still, once he gets hit full force with the moon's rays."

Terri added the pillowcase to the hamper, and furrowed her brow. Something she remembered Remus saying in the Great Hall..."Madame Pomfrey --"

"Poppy," the elder witch gently corrected. She smiled. "Albus tells me that we'll be colleagues, after all."

"Poppy, then," Terri continued hesitantly. "Remus Lupin said...something about knowing the risks when he agreed."

"Oh yes," Pomfrey said, nodding. "He knows the risks...in exquisitely painful detail."

Terri swallowed. "Do those risks include --"

"Death?" Pomfrey cut in. Her expression saddened, but she nodded again.

Terri paced once, digesting this information. She turned back to Madame Pomfrey with an air of impatience. "But then...if the Wolfsbane potion is working fine for him...why is he taking such a huge risk?" She waved her hands in frustration.

Madame Pomfrey stroked her chin, as if weighing not the question so much, but the person asking it. Her eyes met Terri's. For several seconds, the two witches simply stared at each other. It reminded Terri of when Albus Dumbledore looked into her eyes earlier in the week, at the Weasleys...and chose to keep his council.

This time, however, was different. Seemingly satisfied, Madame Pomfrey nodded, and gestured toward her office. Terri followed. The older witch stopped at one point to check behind a screen that was drawn around one of the beds. "Good, he's still asleep," she muttered to herself, and led Terri the rest of the way into her office.

Despite being fairly utilitarian, Madame Pomfrey's office was much more cheerful than Severus Snape's. She favored lighter woods, and had a window that looked out onto the grounds of the castle. Behind one glass-enclosed cabinet sat jars neatly labeled with their contents; Terri recognized a number of the healing herbs without even reading the labels. Several other herbs hung from ceiling racks, partway through the process of drying. In addition to a couple of well-used leatherbound notebooks, Pomfrey's desk held a large aloe plant and a picture in an old-fashioned gilt-edged frame. The room also contained a small workbench set up with mortar, pestle, burner, a small cauldron, and other tools for processing herbs and making potions.

Madame Pomfrey gestured Terri to a high stool next to the workbench. While the young witch sat, Pomfrey herself leaned against the work area. "I know you've never seen him teach," she began. Terri nodded. "I haven't either -- but Minerva and Albus have." She paused, as if trying to find the words. "I'm not a teacher myself, mind," she added. "I don't have that kind of...patience." She smiled slightly. "No pun intended." Pomfrey ran a hand through her graying hair, and continued. "But I trust the judgment of those who do teach. And Albus and Minerva both said -- that Mr. Lupin had a `calling.'" Pomfrey's eyes flicked quickly to the picture frame on her desk -- the picture itself was not visible from this angle -- and continued. "That's the sort of thing I can understand -- having a calling -- even if I can't quite understand having a calling to teach. Not from my own experience, anyway. But...having a calling...it means you'll risk almost anything to be able to do what you've been called to do."

It was Madame Pomfrey's turn to pace, while Terri waited. The medical witch lightly touched one of the leatherbound notebooks on her desk, then turned around to face Terri. "For one year," she continued, "he made a big difference -- a VERY big difference -- here at Hogwarts, teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts. He was the best DADA teacher at this school that I can remember...and I've been here for a while." She smiled ruefully. "And at the end of that year," she continued, "he was forced to leave, because his...illness...became public knowledge." Pomfrey met Terri's gaze defiantly, as if daring her to call being a werewolf anything other than an illness. "It was unfair to him, and unfair to the students." Pomfrey walked back around to the front of her desk, and leaned against it. "So...a number of us here on staff thought that, if a way could be found to prevent him from transforming entirely --"

"He could come back to Hogwarts and teach," Terri finished for her. Pomfrey nodded. "Professor McGonagall mentioned something about Professor Dumbledore using his connections --"

Pomfrey waved her hand dismissively. "I don't know how he signed us up for the program. I'm not sure I want to know; politics never was my strong suit." She shrugged. "But...yes, Remus Lupin knows the risks. He's doing it anyway."

Terri got the sense that there was more to this than that. Something she had read in her Care of Magical Creatures textbook about werewolves...no. It wasn't in the textbook, it was in the supplemental reading she did. Gavin had been hesitant to suggest that she read Hairy Snout, Human Heart -- and Terri understood why after she read it. It did not paint a pretty picture of the life of a werewolf. Prejudice made it difficult to get and keep a job...or friends...or a place to live. And during the full moon, a werewolf faced nights that were nasty, brutish...and short.

"You said Remus was young when he was bitten," Terri pointed out. Pomfrey nodded warily. "How much longer does he have to live?"

"I don't think that's any of your --" Pomfrey began angrily, but cut herself off. She closed her eyes, and took two deep, steadying breaths. When she opened them again, her face was much calmer. She gave Terri another measuring look. "I know you passed Professor Snape's test, and the headmaster approved you," she began. "But, if you don't mind my asking: how good are you with potions that affect multiple bodily systems?"

Terri nearly slipped from her perch on the work stool, so surprised was she at the seeming non sequitur. Many potions affected more than one system; anything that caused a physical transformation affected muscles, bones, and circulation, just to name a few. "I've mastered all six versions of the Polyjuice potion," Terri replied. Human, mammal, bird, fish, reptile/amphibian, and plant -- sadly, the plant one had been very boring, since Gavin wouldn't let her turn into a Venus flytrap.

"What about potions affecting the brain?" Madame Pomfrey persisted.

Terri frowned, and furrowed her brows. This was clearly leading somewhere, but she hadn't quite figured it out yet. "I earned a license to make Veritaserum," she answered. Gavin had tried to talk her out of it; he'd said she'd have to keep a lab up to certain standards in order to maintain the license. Indeed, it had lapsed, but she was certain she could get it renewed fairly easily. "And of course, I've learned the usual compulsions and cancelers -- love potions, coveting potions, that sort of thing. And once, in an emergency, I made Mind Recovery potion for a friend of Gavin's who'd gotten stuck as a horse for too long."

"Ah." Madame Pomfrey nodded, seemingly impressed. She grew thoughtful. "You'll be able to help me out after all, then," she murmured to herself. Help her with what? Terri wondered. The answer was not long in coming. "I have to be careful about what I tell you; patient's confidentiality, after all. But if you're willing to help me as a consultant..."

Terri nodded. "I'm surprised that's even a question," she said, removing a marble pestle from the workbench and fidgeting with it. "I mean, since I'm filling in for Professor Snape, I figured I'd be just as much at your disposal as he is."

Madame Pomfrey rolled her eyes. "He isn't," she said, but quickly modified it to "Well, he is, more often than not, I suppose, but he gets rather high and mighty about it."

Why am I not surprised? Terri thought. She ran her right hand over the marble pestle; its cold, hard surface reminded her very much of the potions master. To Madame Pomfrey, she said, "I'm the newcomer here, so if you see me getting high and mighty, knock me off that perch. I may be good enough with potions to pass tests, but I can always use more practice; I'll help you as much as I can."

The medical witch sighed with relief. "Thank you. And, to answer your question..." She shook her head. "The truth is, we don't know. When Remus came here, I reviewed all the literature I could find about werewolves who had been bitten as children. There wasn't much." She made a face, as if she'd just bitten into a lemon. "Most young werewolves were so clumsy starting out that they fell victim to `accidents.' Some of these even were accidental."

Terri's eyes widened as she caught the drift of Pomfrey's statements. "But -- that's barbaric!" she exclaimed, catching the pestle as it tried to slip from her hands.

"Is it?" Pomfrey sighed. "I used to think so -- still do, actually. But...well, I've seen what Remus goes through every time he transforms." She shook her head. "I don't know if I could have watched my child go through that every month, with no hope of a cure. This was long before the Wolfsbane potion, remember; and some of the children I read about..." she shuddered. "Remus was eight when he was bitten. The youngest child I read about was just four years old. Four," she insisted, holding up four fingers to emphasize her point. "How do you explain to a four-year-old what his body is going through?"

Terri shook her head; she had no answer to that question. The closest comparison she could make from her own experience dealt with another monthly cycle. Like Remus, she had been eight years old when her body went through a major change -- from child to functionally adult. Her mother had given her a booklet to prepare her, which she had dutifully read, not understanding a single word. Just a few months later came the first time she saw the red stain on her clothes. She called for her mother, panicking...and her mother told her what was happening, in one sentence...and Terri cried, still frightened. Oh, she read everything she could get her hands on about it after that; it was her natural reaction. But she told no one about it -- as far as she knew, she was the first girl in her class to whom this had happened. And she was ashamed of it. It was a deep dark secret. Later, she found out that, relatively speaking, she was lucky; her grandmother's first blood was greeted by a slap across her face from her mother, followed by the admonition "Remember, you're a woman now!"

But that was a natural experience, if a little early. Every girl who lived long enough normally went through that change. What Remus had gone through -- still went through -- was not considered "normal" or "natural" by the wizarding world. Consequently, Remus himself was not considered "normal" or "natural." If I was ashamed of what I went through, thought Terri, what must Remus have felt?

"I can't imagine how," Terri replied to Pomfrey's question.

The older witch nodded. "That's another reason Remus and I want so much for this potion program to succeed -- so no one ever has to try to answer that question again. Or, for that matter, the question you asked me about Remus."

Terri nodded, just ducking her head slightly in agreement. Her eyes caught sight of her watch. "Lord and Lady, the time! I'd better head back to the party." She gave Pomfrey an apologetic look. Dumbledore would want to know what happened, and Sirius seemed belligerantly concerned about Remus when she left the Great Hall.

"Well, off you go, then," said Pomfrey, waving her hands in a dismissing motion. "Just one thing --" Terri stopped at that, one hand on the door, and turned back to the older witch. Pomfrey thoughtfully tapped a finger on her lips, hesitating. Finally: "Do you suppose you could teach me how to do...whatever it was that you did to help Remus tonight? It...would be very useful."

Terri looked at Madame Pomfrey. She saw a woman who was used to being in charge of her domain, and not used to asking for help, humbling herself for the sake of one of her patients. She opened her mouth, closed it, and hesitated herself. Lord and Lady, what can I tell her? she thought. "I...don't know," Terri answered honestly. "What I did, was not really a spell -- not in thewizarding world's sense of what a spell is. It was...more like a meditation. Or a prayer." She looked down, ashamed that she couldn't give a better answer. "I can try to teach you, but a lotof it depends on belief."

Madame Pomfrey responded with a small smile. As Terri's eyes widened in surprise, the medical witch explained "That's all I can ask. Or have your lessons become so embedded in your bones that you've forgotten how much spells in the wizarding world depend on belief to work?"

Oh Terri looked sheepish. "Eh, different kind of belief," she said awkwardly.

Pomfrey shrugged. "So you say. We'll see, I suppose. Now, truly, I must let you go. Have fun; we'll speak of this again." With a smile and a nod, she dismissed Terri from the infirmary.

Terri noticed a number of changes when she arrived back at the Great Hall. The first one reached her ears as soon as the doors opened -- the sound of chamber music. She smiled when she saw a set of instruments floating in midair, seemingly playing themselves. She wondered if Mr. Weasley or Professor Dumbledore were familiar with CDs and CD players, and if so what they thought of them.

A quick glance around the room revealed that not everyone was delighted with the entertainment. Ron looked a little bored; he ignored the music entirely in favor of conversation with Harry. Harry divided his attention between his best friend, the music, and a large black dog sitting next to him. Snuffles, thought Terri. There must be someone here who doesn't know that Sirius is innocent. Terri continued her visual survey of the room, and found that person soon enough. She gasped.

Madame Maxime. The French headmistress of Beauxbatons appeared to be slightly shorter than Hagrid, but that was only because the half-giant was wearing his new dress robes, complete with headgear. It made a strong contrast to her long black satin dress, sleeveless and cowl-necked in deference to the warm weather. Her neck and wrists shone with moonstones. Her long black hair, which (Terri couldn't help noticing) perfectly matched her dress, was swept up and held in place by a pair of hairsticks, each topped with a pearl, a glittering crystal, and a jet bead. In short, Madame Maxime was the very picture of sophisticated elegance. Lord and Lady, how can I compete with that? Terri caught herself thinking before she could stop herself. And a half-giant, too; she's practically MADE for him!

But you're NOT competing for him, Terri reminded herself stubbornly. It's just a crush; you've always had a thing for teddy bears. She sighed, and shook away the memory of Deidre teasing her this morning. "I know you were dreaming about Hagrid," she'd said, "I heard you purring in your sleep." Well, and so what if it had been true? Hagrid would never find out, she'd make sure of that. The flirting had just been a bit of play -- and anyway, Hagrid would be her colleague. That was enough to make him off limits for romance.

Ron spotted Terri first, and waved her over. Shaking herself, she joined her cousin and his friend at their table.

"How is he?" Harry and Ron asked almost at the same time. Snuffles would certainly have asked as well, had he been capable of speech; as it was, he placed his head on the table and met Terri's eyes with a penetrating gaze.

Terri glanced over at Hagrid and Madame Maxime before speaking; if the headmistress didn't know about Sirius, she supposed it was possible she didn't know about Remus, either. "He is...not himself," she began. She saw Dumbledore nearby, apparently in conversation with Mr. Weasley. Their eyes met, and she knew instantly that he, too, was listening. "Madame Pomfrey gave him more medication -- something different, to...counteract the side effects of what he'd taken earlier for his migraine." Both Ron and Harry nodded; Harry glanced over at Madame Maxime before nodding, as if to confirm what Terri had guessed. "It took away most of the pain, but...there were other effects. Nothing hazardous," she added hastily, holding up restraining hands as Harry, Ron, and even Snuffles started to rise. What were they going to do, dash off to the infirmary? She stopped the thought as she realized that, in fact, that was exactly what they would have done.

"What sort of effects?" asked Harry. Next to him, Snuffles nodded.

Oh great, how do I describe this? "Er, hirsutism," she explained, figuring it was best to keep it simple. "But don't worry," she rushed on, "Madame Pomfrey expects that'll go away. Anyway, Professor McGonagall took him outside, for...some fresh air. I think they have matters well in hand." Nearby, Professor Dumbledore raised an eyebrow, as if expecting more. "He should be himself again by morning, if...he doesn't overexert himself in the night air. And, eh, Professor McGonagall is making sure he uses proper restraint." There; a single nod from Dumbledore, and a mixture of relief and lingering concern on the faces of the boys in front of her, let her know her message had been delivered. Terri's shoulders slumped; she hadn't realized how tense she was about delivering the encoded-on-the-fly message until just then.

"Ooo, ze migraine iz a dreadful thing," came an accented voice that Terri had never heard before. Terri looked up; Hagrid and Madame Maxime had joined them at the table. Maxime's cheeks were rosy. "I am zorry for -- how do you say it? -- eavesdropping. But I haf had ztudents who suffered from ze migraine; eet made zeir ztudies so much more dificil."

Terri could only nod in response. And she would have to have such a pleasant accent, too, she thought, all too conscious of the fact that her own American accent grated on British ears. Hagrid stepped forward at this point and performed the introductions; the smile on his face, and his body language, as he said Madame Maxime's name confirmed Terri's fears. Somehow, Terri managed to smile as she shook the headmistress' hand without making it look as though she were baring her teeth. For Maxime's part, she raised her eyebrows slightly at Terri's strong grip, and easily matched it. Ouch. Dang it, you know better, Terri admonished herself, and tried not to be too obvious about shaking out her hand when she retrieved it from the half-giantess. Everyone sat down at the table -- it was the one Sirius had enlarged -- and got comfortable.

"So," Hagrid began, "Oly -- Madame Maxime and I will be takin' summat of a grand tour when we leave 'ere tomorrow. In fact," he continued, looking at Terri, "we're plannin' on stoppin' in yer own country at some point along th' way."

"Really? That's cool." Stop grinning like a loon, Terri told herself. But she couldn't help it; Hagrid truly looked the part of a wizard in his new robes. Stop staring!

"Aye," Hagrid agreed. "So, you bein' a native like, we were wonderin' if there was anyplace in particular ye'd like ter suggest we visit."

Terri's jaw dropped. She'd talked to Ron during the day before they left for Hogwarts, and he'd shared his excited speculations about where Hagrid was going over the summer, and what his mission for Dumbledore might be. She'd agreed that he must be going as an emmisary to the giants. But, I know that Dumbledore's in touch with Gavin! she thought. How could he not have told them...?! Shaking her head, she said, "You mean you don't know about Buffalo Gap?"

"Buffalo Gap?" echoed Hagrid. He furrowed his brows and stroked his bearded chin thoughtfully. "I think Professor Dumbledore may have mentioned it in passin'...it's in Texas, right?"

"Right," said Terri, nodding in relief. "It's not far from Abilene...but of course, you wouldn't know where Abilene is, either," she added hastily, noticing Madame Maxime's blank look. "You'll want to contact the mayor or the tourist board ahead of time -- it's Mostly Unplottable."

"`Mostly Unplottable'?" Harry asked. His confusion was mirrored on the faces of the other non-Americans at the table -- except for Hagrid, who looked interested rather than confused.

Great, I've done it again, thought Terri, stumbled onto something that's exclusive to the American part of the wizarding world. Taking a deep breath, she began, "Well, you know what it means when something is Unplottable, right?"

"Sure. It means you can't plot it on maps," said Ron, with the air of explaining something everyone knew. "My brother Charlie told me about studying dragons on the border of some Unplottable areas. Weird stuff." He made a face and shook his head. Terri didn't blame him; from what she'd heard about the spells that had to be put in place to make an area Unplottable, she wouldn't care to get too close to such places, either.

"Well, an area that's Mostly Unplottable is partly open -- the only folks that can find it and get in are folks that are allowed to get in. Follow me so far?" Upon seeing a quartet of nods, Terri continued. "Now for Buffalo Gap, access is controlled by the mayor, who approves the decisions of the tourist board --"

"Er, excuse me," Harry cut in, seemingly still puzzled. "Why didn't they make it just `Unplottable' rather than `Mostly Unplottable'? I mean, if I remember my studies," here he nodded to Hagrid, "and what it said in Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them, places are made Unplottable because the creatures within them are dangerous." Ron nodded confirmation at this.

"And your point is?" asked Terri. Let's see if he can find the hidden assumption in what he just said, she thought; it would give her some idea of his capacity as a student.

"Er...aren't giants dangerous?" Harry asked hesitantly.

Terri smiled. Good start. "That, Harry, depends on where they come from. American giants are only dangerous if you're allergic to heavy partying!" She started to laugh, but stopped when she saw looks of disbelief. "Oh, it's true all right," she continued, nodding. Turning to Harry, she said, "I've been to Buffalo Gap, you see. It was part of a project I was working on to crown my Care of Magical Creatures studies." Terri became more animated as she talked; the project had been quite enjoyable, but a lot of work as well. "I studied the tales that muggles told about giants around the world. Did you know that only in the United States are there tales of giants as heroes? It's true! So I talked Gavin into taking me to Buffalo Gap so I could find out why."

Terri grinned as the memories flooded back to her. They'd timed the trip for Memorial Day weekend, and Buffalo Gap was holding a start of summer festival at that time. The town showed off its ranching heritage then, with an all-out rodeo, more different kinds of barbecue than one could shake a lariat at, and leather goods for sale: in human, half-giant, and giant sizes. She'd stopped in at the museum, where the curator, Anthony Bunyan, revealed that most of the "tall tales" told about his great-grandfather had more than a grain of truth in them.

"So I learned that Paul Bunyan -- you've heard of Paul Bunyan, right?" Terri asked.

"Oui," said Madame Maxime. "'e was a French-Canadian, or so I've 'eard."

"Um, right," Terri continued, not bothering to make the correction. There's too much argument over where he came from anyway, she reflected. "Anyway, he was a logger and a logging foreman before he founded the town, and a lot of the folks who worked for him were immigrants -- giants, humans, he wasn't picky, so long as they'd do the work. He found that the very same giants who caused such big problems over in their own countries in Europe were some of his hardest workers and best men in the States. And they were loyal to a fault! So when Paul got married and had kids and was ready to settle down, well, wouldn't you know his crew wanted to go with him?

"So he and his boys looked all over the place -- met up with some other giants, too, like Pecos Bill -- and finally settled on Buffalo Gap. Now here I'm afraid I have to admit, my own people have been somewhat, um, creative in their enforcement of the International Code of Wizarding Secrecy, particularly Clause 75," Terri said awkwardly. "Isolated cases of giants were, um, no big deal -- and they certainly kept P. T. Barnum busy! But a whole community of giants? And not just giants, but the wizards, witches, and muggles who'd worked with them and loved them? That was a bit much, even for us."

"I should zink so!" exclaimed Madame Maxime. "We haf been very careful in our enforcement of Clause 75 in France! Zere is too much danger, should magical creatures come in contact with muggles!"

"True," said Terri, raising one finger, "but what if you have a town with a bunch of harmless, hard-working people, regardless of their size, who just wants to be left alone, to be able to see their relatives every so often, and is already living somewhere fairly isolated?" She was pleased at the thoughtful looks she got. Gavin had told her about the prejudice against giants in the UK; she'd found it difficult to square with the decent, reliable, fun-loving folks she found in Buffalo Gap. "That's where the `Mostly Unplottable' solution came in. I mean, if your daughter the witch marries a giant, you're still going to want to see your son-in-law and your grandchildren! So most folks just cruise right by Buffalo Gap, unless they've got an invitation -- special permission from the mayor. The town's only about 500 people, so it's not hard to arrange --"

"Grandchildren?" Hagrid asked softly. He had a strange look on his face, as if seeing Terri for the first time. "Ye mean there's half-giants in that town?"

"Well, of course," Terri said, shrugging. "Must have been at least ten of them the last time I was there -- and there's probably a couple more now, I know at least one mixed couple was expecting. Keeps the wizards and maternity witches on their toes, I can tell you that." She'd been somewhat grateful at the time that most of the half-giants were either too old, too young, or the wrong gender to press her "teddy bear" button.

"Ze wizards?" Madame Maxime asked. She'd started to bring a half-empty wineglass to her lips, but paused. "I could understand ze maternity witches, but ze wizards?"

"Oh, it's a silly rule," Terri sighed, waving a dismissive hand. She glanced uncomfortably at the two young boy wizards at the table, but decided to press on anyway. "Maternity witches aren't allowed to cast the conception spells that let a human and a giant crossbreed."

Madame Maxime's eyes widened. "But...giants and humans can crossbreed without magic! Why do they need wizards?" She exclaimed.

"Nooo, they can't," Terri disagreed. "Believe you me, the wizard I spoke with would like nothing better if that were true -- he said he feels like he's invading their privacy, even though both members of the couple have to really want the child for the spell to work in the first place --"

"Zat's not true eizzer!" Madame Maxime's grip on her glass tightened so much that it broke. She gasped, and looked down in embarassment at the red wine and broken pieces of glass on the table. "I...I'm zorry," she said, her accent still thick from her outburst. "I don't know what came over me." She shakily drew one of the hairsticks from her hair and waved it over the mess. "R-reparo," she stuttered, still somewhat shaken. The pieces of the wineglass flew back together (including a few from Madame Maxime's hand, which made Terri wince and the half-giantess bite her lip). They held for a second or two, then collapsed back onto the table again.

Without even thinking about what she was doing, Terri withdrew her own wand and said "Let me." With an efficient swish and flick, she said "Reparo." The pieces quickly flew back together; cracks mended, and held. Terri gave a quick nod of satisfaction...and was shocked to see Madame Maxime looking at her as if she wished the younger witch would shrivel up on the spot. "I'm sorry," she stammered, "you were just so upset that --"

"I could haf taken care of zat myself!" Madame Maxime insisted, barely below the volume of a shout. She leaned forward, knocking over the glass, but thankfully not breaking it this time. "You had no need to --"

"Madame Maxime." Professor Dumbledore's voice cut in just then, slicing through the start of her tirade like a whip. He was by her side at the table as quickly as if he had Apparated. "I am very sorry to take you away from the socializing" he said, sounding almost sincere, "but there are a few matters I need to discuss with you in private about the trip you and Hagrid are taking tomorrow. If you please?"

The Beauxbatons headmistress composed herself, stood up, and delivered a haughty nod to the table before stiffly exiting the Great Hall with Dumbledore. Hagrid moved to follow, but was stopped by a look from the headmaster. He sat back down with a slight sigh. Harry and Ron cast looks of confusion and -- was that pity? -- in Terri's direction.

Oh great, not again, Terri thought, groaning inwardly. "Well," she said, trying to talk brightly but managing only a squeak, "that must have been at least my third faux pas tonight. Honestly, I shall have to learn the plural of that word." Dang it, why DOES my sense of humor have to go manic when I get this embarrassed? "You know, Hogwarts has already proven to be quite educational," she continued, sounding to her own ears like a boy whose voice was just hitting puberty. "I never knew I was flexible enough to put both feet in my mouth at the same time. Or switch them in such rapid succession." She stood up shakily, taking in a tableful of faces that didn't seem to know whether to be amused or horrified. "Now if you'll excuse me, I think I'd better go see if I can find a crowbar and some WD-40 before my poor feet get permanently wedged in my mouth." So saying, the new potions professor fled the Great Hall.