Dance of Death

Why did I come here?

Pomona looked around the house. It looked old on the outside, but was fairly clean and tidy within. There was even a piano in the sitting room. Frank lifted its cover, stretched out a finger, and pressed a key. The strings gave a sharp, grating note that echoed through the old house.

"I think it looks quite nice. What do you think?" Professor McGonagall pressed down on the sofa in the sitting room. It was incredibly soft. She seemed to think a werewolf's transformation was like a child running a fever—that lying down for a while would make it pass.

"Minerva, a werewolf transformation isn't like becoming an Animagus. It isn't voluntary." Frank glanced at Pomona and pressed another piano key. "Remus will tear that sofa to pieces."

Pomona felt deeply uncomfortable. Veela had states in which they lost control too, and she had no desire to become something like that.

"What do you think about digging the cave exit to here?" Professor McGonagall stamped on the wooden floor in the middle of the sitting room. "It would be more spacious if we moved the furniture aside."

"Using a building as cover is a good idea." Frank looked around with pursed lips. "No, the exit should still be outside."

"Why?" Professor McGonagall and Pomona asked together.

"Werewolves mainly rely on close combat. There isn't enough room indoors." Frank walked to the window and pulled back the tightly shut curtains. "Look, it's very open outside. Wizards will be safer if they keep their distance. A werewolf grows taller after transforming. If we alter these windows so it can't get through them, then even if someone gets into trouble, this house can trap it."

"Like an animal cage." Frank's words made Pomona extremely uncomfortable, as though he did not regard Remus Lupin as a person at all.

"That's right." Frank let the curtains fall. "Like an animal cage."

"Oh, God." Professor McGonagall was at a loss again. Pomona remembered the stern woman from her first Transfiguration class. Which side of her was real?

"Even an animal cage is better than Azkaban, Minerva. He can learn to control himself here." Frank knocked on the wall, and a hollow sound came from inside. He pursed his lips again. "Surely you don't want Gryffindor to produce a criminal locked up in Azkaban."

"Oh, my God." Professor Minerva McGonagall looked as if she were about to faint. Pomona hurried over to support her. If Minerva had not been Dumbledore's assistant, no House would have taken in a werewolf. It was far too risky. Pomona could practically imagine the process by which Dumbledore had "persuaded" McGonagall.

She hated it when men forced women to accept their opinions, just as they forced her to drink potions she disliked.

"Miss Martin, how much do you know about offensive spells?"

"I can't even make a feather float yet." Pomona answered coldly. In Hufflepuff, that was a sign of anger.

"Not wizarding magic—your racial gift." Frank pointed at his head. "How many birds can you control?"

"Other than being pretty, I never knew a half-blood Veela could attack people." Pomona bared her teeth at him like a badger ready to bite.

"Veela are very dangerous magical creatures, especially to men with weak wills. Have you heard of Sirens?"

"Yes."

"They're a type of mermaid. Muggle sailors lose their way when they hear their songs, then perish in the sea. Every Midsummer's Eve, Muggle men who aren't afraid of death go into the woods looking for fairies. I once had a colleague deal with such an incident. When he rescued a Muggle and erased his memory, he was drawn in by a Veela's dance as well. Let's try another approach. If you don't want to use offensive spells, you can use dancing to exhaust Remus. Professor McGonagall's Animagus is only a cat—she'll likely have trouble stopping him. She needs an assistant."

Pomona was stunned. Frank had not mentioned this at the meeting.

"Aren't you afraid I'll turn into a werewolf if I get bitten too?"

"Not only the Forbidden Forest—young magical creatures elsewhere have also been attacked by werewolves. Their offspring didn't transform. Only humans bitten by werewolves become werewolves. Likewise, there's no need to worry if an Animagus is scratched or bitten by a werewolf..."

"But I'm only a half-blood!" Pomona cut him off.

"How do you think we found out that an Animagus won't turn into a werewolf after being bitten?" Frank lost his sense of humor and spoke coldly.

This was an experiment. Pomona finally understood. Lupin and she were both experimental subjects. In the end, Albus Dumbledore had never regarded them as "people."

"You've never truly used your gift, other than tending plants." With his hands behind his back, Frank spoke like a true pure-blood aristocrat. "What a waste of your talent."

You don't know who I am.

Pomona looked coldly at the human wizard. She wanted to be a sweetheart whose head was full of romance and sweets, but these people were forcing her onto the battlefield.

"Learn to dance, Pomona. I'll teach you." Professor McGonagall put an arm around her shoulders. "I know you don't like hurting people."

"Professor McGonagall, I want to learn the Severing Charm." Pomona looked at Frank and sneered. "The kind used to painlessly dock Crups' tails—but I want to add pain damage. The very painful kind."

Professor McGonagall went rigid all over, and her hand slowly slipped from Pomona's shoulder.

It felt amazing to declare in front of an Auror that she wanted to learn Dark magic. She wanted to do it again, but if she did not give him a reason, Merlin knew what these "upright gentlemen" might do.

"Mr. Frank, have you ever been to a Muggle circus?" She strolled leisurely through the sitting room, while Frank warily kept his distance from her. As though they had agreed on it beforehand, they began circling the room.

"At a circus, there is a kind of animal-taming act. A trainer holds a whip and directs lions, tigers, elephants, bears, and many animals stronger than Muggles to perform. They weren't born knowing how to jump through rings of fire, but trainers teach them through training from a young age, just as Pringle punishes students with a whip." She smiled elegantly. "Ask your colleague Arthur Weasley. I heard he took the lashes for his girlfriend and was left with scars."

"You want to tame Lupin like an animal?" Moonlight reflected off Frank's glasses, hiding his eyes.

"Didn't you already stop treating him like a person?" Pomona smiled wickedly. "Pain teaches people to remember. Though those whips weren't used on them, Hogwarts students all remembered. Waking up too early isn't a good thing either. I can't exactly use Scourgify against a monster, can I?"

"Then don't you think you're a monster too?" Frank continued.

"If I'm a monster, why do so many Muggles risk their lives to seek out Veela?" She picked up a lock of hair and wound it around her finger. Deliberately, she dispelled the concealment spell from her face, revealing her true appearance: a delicate, proud nose, skin white as snow, lips soft as cherries, and dreamy aqua-blue eyes. A Midsummer Night's Dream—the most fantastical dream, the most beautiful love. Only a fool would not want it. "You said Alice wouldn't be jealous of me before. What about now?"

Frank sighed, stopped walking, bent at the waist, and bowed to her.

"I repent for my offense just now."

"Until I learn how to use that spell, you will come every full moon to assist Professor McGonagall in controlling Lupin. He's only a young werewolf. Surely you aren't incapable of even that much, human Auror." Pomona stopped as well and stood in the middle of the sitting room.

"Yes, ma'am," Frank said humbly.

"Is there anything else you need from me here, Minerva?"

"No." Professor McGonagall clutched the fabric over her chest tightly, but did not look at Pomona.

"Don't think I'm Remus Lupin." Pomona gave the two humans in the room one final warning, then walked out of the "cage." It felt wonderful to bathe in the moonlight. The feeling of regaining her freedom filled her with energy.

When she heard music drifting from Hogsmeade, an urge rose within her—to find a man she found attractive, dance with him, and then suck out his soul like a Dementor.

But at the last moment, she decided she ought to be more cautious about her first time. If some food did not taste delicious on the first bite, she would never like it afterward.

So she needed to find a delicious soul and begin her new journey.

Before she could change her mind, she turned and headed toward the Forbidden Forest.

The more something was forbidden, the more people wanted to try it. Humans were such strange creatures.