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Inventing a new spell; a most tricky and daunting proposition. Beyond most wizards. Lupin flattered himself by thinking he had a chance, but if pressed, well, he had helped with the Marauder's Map, had he not? He knew a thing or two about Defense Against the Dark Arts, and this was not dissimilar.

Besides, what did it hurt to try? (Besides the very real chance of an injurious backfire.)

Lupin came to the City, seeking out a place by the river where he (probably wrongly) thought no one would venture close enough to be harmed by his experimentation. Once there, he sat down on the grass without much regards for his dignity, and began writing on the book he had liberated for such a purpose.

"Protego Minutiae," he began, writing the words down as he spoke them.

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It earned a laugh, so he had at least taken it in humor. "The greatest harm I'm likely to cause is to singe my eyebrows off, and they will regrow in time. Possibly send a shield bouncing off the ground, but that will be harmless here."

Elisa responded to the laugh in kind, giving Lupin a broad smile before asking a more serious question.

"So, what exactly are you trying to do with this spell?"

Her curiosity stemmed partly from a desire to learn about a form of magic that was drastically different to magic in her own world, but, more importantly, from a desire to make sure that Goliath wasn't harmed. Not deliberately - she didn't think that Lupin would behave that way for a moment - but accidentally.

"After a bit of questioning, I think that the change is connected to the same sort of cosmic forces that make the sun rise and set. It isn't the sunlight itself, and it is something the ship can duplicate." He tapped his wand thoughtfully against his palm. "So a magical shield against these forces, against a change in these forces, ought to keep the transformation from happening. Or so I hope."

"But he needs to sleep sometimes," Elisa pointed out. Her concern didn't stem from distrust or a belief that she knew better, but from her feelings for Goliath. Although she knew why he didn't want to waste time in the stone sleep - leaving his protectorate unattended for long periods of time - she would remain the voice of reason. "He'll need to rest. Heal. Will your spell be able to take that into account?"

"The spell will by itself not last terribly long," Lupin said, "not to mention it would be inconvenient at best for him to have to locate me every time he wanted it renewed. So instead I plan to Charm some object or article of clothing, perhaps, so that he can put it on or take it off as he sees fit. An enchanted ring wouldn't seem unreasonable, I would think?"

He sensed her concern stemmed from a deeper worry than simply the nature of his magic, though. "As for encouraging him to actually take it off, he struck me as sensible enough to understand that he can't rely on this at all times."

"Like the Mayan clan's sun amulet," Elisa mused aloud.

"He's is sensible, most of the time." But Elisa also knew from personal experience how stubborn he could be. "But he'll always put himself in danger is someone needs his help."

Still, she was here. She'd always been good at making him see reason.

"That's partly where I got the idea from, after reading some material he loaned me on the matter." Lupin smiled. "It at least proves it is possible, though not how."

He privately agreed with her assessment, though he didn't know Goliath well enough to assert that. "If he risks himself unduly, we'll just have to make him realize what he's doing."

"I've wanted to share a sunrise with him for a long time. I didn't expect it to be like this."

In fact, she'd expected it to remain as much of a dream as walking down a street with him on a night that wasn't Halloween.

"Thank you for everything you're doing. I'd offer to help, but I don't think there's much I can do."

Her voiced desire brought a smile to his face that in fact wasn't all that warm. Through no fault of her own; he was simply thinking of the last time he had heard such a romantic impulse, and who he had heard it from... and therefore, unavoidably, what had happened to that couple.

But at her second statement, the smile regained its closeless and clarity, though he shook his head. "I'm afraid not, but I'm not even certain I can do anything yet. Don't get your hopes too high, too quickly, though I'm not going to give up before I've exhausted everything."

She hadn't intended to reveal much with her confession, but, back in New York, people had often commented on the closeness of her relationship with Goliath, even when she'd refused to admit the truth to herself. The situation was obviously the same here.

Elisa had no idea what had prompted the sudden change in Lupin's demeanor. Maybe she'd been overly optimistic when she'd hoped that people would too busy with the war and their own concerns to worry about someone else's relationship. He couldn't have a problem with gargoyles in general, not if he was helping Goliath.

"I'm not," she said, becoming a little more guarded, "I just hope Goliath isn't."

"I have cautioned him more than once... though I'm afraid his belief that this is necessary for him may color his hopes somewhat, all my cautions aside." This didn't seem to worry Lupin overmuch. Optimism was a good thing, in too-short supply most times. "But I have nothing but time to work, and a few different avenues to approach this from. I won't stop trying."

Elisa nodded at that, understanding completely. She had plenty of experience when it came to Goliath's stubbornness and determination. More than that, she understood exactly why he wanted and needed this.

"Thank you," she said, again. "If you do think of something I could do, let me know?"

"Certainly I shall." He would find some way, even if it were terribly minor. It clearly meant a lot to her, and he respected that.

It meant a lot to Goliath, and, therefore, it meant a lot to Elisa as well.

"Bronx and I should probably let you get back to work," she said, getting to her feet again with that in mind. The gargoyle beast, sprawled out on the grass in front of them, did the same. "I'm sure we'll see you again soon."

"As I practically live at the castle these days anyway, or at least its library, that's quite true. If you take tea at all, you're welcome to stop by. I have a small supply, my one luxury." Though he doubted she had the proper appreciation for teatime, given her accent, but no matter.

"Thanks, but I'm really more of a coffee drinker," said Elisa, confirming his suspisions with a genial smile. "I wouldn't want to use up your supply."

"One of the perks of magic," he replied. "Food can't be created, but if you have some it is entirely possible to duplicate it. If you ever get a supply of coffee..." He lifted his wand to give it an obliging little wave.

"Wow." She was genuinely impressed, wondering if Demona and the other practitioners of her magic from her own world could have done something similar if they hadn't been so busy casting spells to harm the human race. "It's not a perk I'd thought of, but I'll definitely keep the offer in mind."

"It isn't much, but I have enough skill at Transfiguring to get by." He shrugged self-deprecatingly.

"False modesty doesn't work well when you're talking about magic," she warned him with a grin, "If you don't have that sort of power, it's all impressive."

"I suppose to a Muggle it must be, but... My friend Sirius is aboard the ship, and he is more skilled than I am. So in wizarding terms, I don't claim to be anything special." Lupin was underrating himself, but James and Sirius had always been the show-offs, the ones most proud of their ability.

"A muggle?"

The phrase was entirely unfamiliar and Lupin's tone didn't suggest that it was an insult, but curiosity was a police officer's trademark and she had to ask.

After all this time, he still never remembered to forgo using that term before explaining it.

"A person who can't use magic." True, Lupin said it without prejudice, though other wizards might not be so kind.

"That would explain why I've never heard it before," she said, apparently satisfied with the explanation and the fact that it hadn't been an insult. (Not that she'd have been insulted anyway. It would take far more than words to wound her. She'd have bemused at the most.) "Is it used a lot in your world?"

"Often enough. Mostly we wizards live apart from the Muggles, but our paths often intersect, and of course many witches and wizards are the children of Muggles, or marry a Muggle. It does help to know whether a person can perform magic or not." The darker aspects, such as pureblood pride, he had no real intention of getting into. It was frankly embarrassing.