Once Bitten, Twice Shy

By Voltora.

Disclaimer: I do not own Remus J. Lupin nor any other character, location or creation of the Harry Potter series. They belong to J.K. Rowling, the goddess of literature. bows before the shrine with offerings of Ton-tongue toffees and Hippogriff feathers Any characters not recognised are my own, please don't pinch them without asking.

Special thanks to David, for listening to my constant rambling and to my work when I needed support the most. And to Lil Lupin, for your constant support, patience and understanding, and your friendship

Chapter One: Dangerous Games.

A cool breeze blew gently through the trees, a shimmering wave of jade and viridian dancing beneath the summer sun. The warm air was rich with the scent of honeysuckle. A pair of bluebirds whirled down from the sky, piping their warbling song before darting away into the safety of the sun-dappled woodland. The trickle of water from the creak running along its edge was barely audible against the beautiful melody of the violins and the rumble of voices and laughter from the Ottoman's property.

Tarquin Ottoman stood on the terrace and surveyed the grounds of his home with pride. His wife had done herself proud. The lawn was short and green, the apple tree was ripening with good-sized fruits and there wasn't a weed in sight. Healthy snapdragons were swaying in the breeze in the raised beds, and the huge, quivering Flutter-by bushes were attracting a lot of admiration and praise. With a seamless blend of magic and a natural talent for gardening, Patricia had created a horticultural masterpiece.

Tarquin cast an eye over at the fence that separated his wife's domain from what she called the 'wilds'. Mother Nature's own creation, the woodland that came right up to the rear of the small estate, was a marvel in itself. Sporadic growths of plants in all shapes and sizes. Bursts of colour emerged in patches sunlight, whist the bracken and blends of greens and browns carpeted the uneven ground. Animals flourished just as well as the plants, out of sight to all but the keen observer. A constantly changing landscape that kept its simple beauty throughout the year with no assistance from anyone.

Patricia hated it. To her it was untamed and ghastly. But Tarquin liked it. To him it was perfect, and never missed an opportunity to wander. If you were to climb over the fence you had to regain your balance fast or else slide down into the creak at the bottom. It took another climb to scramble up the other slope and into the shaded trees. It was a lovely place for a peaceful walk to contemplate worldly matters and to escape the wife for a few blissful hours. On rare occasions, Tarquin had admired from afar, the distant form of grazing unicorns. Extremely flighty and nervous beasts, the animals would detect his presence and vanish into the trees before you had time to blink.

Tranquil and serene: a fair cry from the rambunctious gathering that had invaded Ottoman's home a few hours previous. He noted, with a slight grimace, the sparkling banner floating in the air above the long tables arranged down one side of the garden, laden down with finger foods and tall wine glasses. 'Happy 70th Birthday, dear Tarquin!'

Seventy years old: he couldn't believe it. His stomach was overhanging his belt only slightly and his hair was clinging to what colour remained, but he didn't feel old. Rather short and stout, Tarquin Ottoman was a fine wizard of many talents, but of a single passion. Flight. This party, at the insistence of his darling wife, was to not only celebrate his birthday, but to commemorate the day his father passed on the family business to him. Ottoman's dream was to create a masterpiece of a broomstick. Many brooms on the market were crude or purely built for the noble sport of Quidditch. Yet his ambition was to market stylish brooms for the upper-class wizard, brooms that made a statement of the owner's wealth, power and beauty. The business had started out as a small operation from his grandfather's Hippogriff farm. From then it simply grew and grew. Ottoman's Flights of Fancy were in great demand, and Tarquin had much to thank his employees for. Over twenty highly skilled designers, crafters and the brave-hearted flight testers had helped keep up with the increasing demand for the past twenty-five years that Tarquin had headed the company, following his father's retirement.

Tarquin gazed fondly at the assembled crowd. Friends, family and employees with their families, all milling around, eating and drinking wine, listening to the music and a few were dancing elegantly at the other end of the terrace. In Tarquin's opinion, the string quartet was a tad much, but Patricia had wanted them. A pair of house-elves wearing spotless toga-like cloths, each carried trays of refreshments and salmon cut sandwiches, walked round the garden offering them politely to every guest.

'Tarquin! Where are you, dear?' came a high-pitched simper from behind him.

Tarquin closed his eyes for a brief moment, before turning round and smiling benignly as his wife bustled out of the house. Dressed in fine robes of pale cream and her dyed blonde hair fixed up in an almost stiff, but elegant bun (no doubt using her most expensive of Madam Loretta's Majestic Hair-Potions range) Patricia Ottoman flounced over to him, waving a white-gloved hand at a third house-elf. Bowing graciously, the elf backed away and disappeared.

'Tarquin, darling, what are you doing out here? There are still guests arriving and you know it's poor grace not to greet them promptly. Come along.'

Taking his arm, Patricia led him back inside like she would a small, wilful child.

'Really, Tarquin, do try to make more of an effort. This is your party after all. I can't be expected to do all the work now, can I?'

Tarquin didn't bother to voice that she was the one who had insisted on all the elaborate preparations and inviting every wizard within a twenty-mile radius of their home.

'No, dear,' was all he said, plucking a glass of elderberry wine from a passing elf and taking a long draught.

'Archibald Fisher and his wife arrived using one of those newfangled Portkeys. Such an entrance; I knew Merle would do something to make sure she was noticed. Always been an attention seeker,' Patricia said with a haughty sniff. 'You wouldn't catch me showing off like that.'

'No, dear.'

'After all, one cannot parade oneself in public with such airs and graces; it's just not lady-like.'

'No, dear.'

'Tarquin, are you even listening to me?'

'Oh, yes, dear,' said Tarquin hastily, catching the change in tone and figuring it was being directed at him.

Making their way into the hallway, Patricia beamed in apparent delight as yet another of their elves opened the front door to welcome another guest inside.

'Esther, sweetheart, how are you?'

'Patsy! You look simply stunning in that robe,' Ester gushed. The two witches embraced and exchanged cheek-kisses. 'Another import?'

'But of course, only from the finest boutiques in Paris.' She gave a twirl. 'Made from the finest pixie silk.'

Tarquin tuned out his wife's incessant chat and nodded a welcome to Esther's husband, Douglas, and their teenaged daughter, Mildred, waving them inside and directing them to the lounge.

'Quick,' he whispered into Douglas' ear, 'escape while you can!'

Douglas chuckled and clapped him on the shoulder.

'Oh, it's not so bad,' he said, handing Tarquin a boxed gift. 'Happy birthday.'

-o-

'Diane!'

No answer.

Julian Lupin sighed and paced the hallway, impatiently checking his watch. He shouted up the stairs for the second time.

'Diane, come on, we'll be the last one's there at this rate!'

'I'm coming,' came a muffled voice from the bathroom. Moments later, the door banged open and Julian caught a fleeting glimpse of a fluffy white towel and a tangle of wet hair before it vanished into the bedroom, leaving the door open a crack. Julian threw his hands up in despair and resumed his pacing, pausing in front of the small mirror to check again that his tie was straight.

'Diane, please, I really want to make a good impression and I can't do that if we're late.'

'We won't be late, just give me a minute.'

'How long does it take to chose a robe?' Julian muttered under his breath. Sure enough …

'Do you have any idea what colour Mrs Ottoman will be wearing?' she called.

'No, I don't know what colour she'll be wearing; does it matter?'

'Yes!' Diane sounded scandalised. 'You never wear the same colour as the hostess.'

'Says who?'

'Lots of people. It's inconsiderate.'

'Look, if by some bad luck you put on the same colour, you can always use a Charm to change it.'

'But I'm useless at those, and they never last.'

Julian rolled his eyes. At this rate they'd get there by the time the party finished. It wasn't the best way to impress the boss, least of all on his birthday. For the next ten minutes, he paced round the hallway impatiently.

'There: what do you think?'

Julian ceased his pacing and looked up. Standing tentatively at the head of the stairs, Diane Lupin gave a nervous smile and smoothed out her pale blue robe. A fine silver chain with a small locket hung about her slender throat and small hoops hung from her ears. Her long brown hair fell past her shoulders, a slight curl hanging with an almost casual elegance down one side of her face. She tucked it behind her ear and spread her hands anxiously.

'Well? Think it'll do?'

'You look lovely,' said Julian softly, and meant it. Married for eleven years, Diane still appeared every bit as beautiful as the day he met her. Yet she never considered herself anything other than plain. She grimaced as she looked herself over.

'I don't know … do you think-'

'I think you look great and that we ought to get going,' said Julian firmly. Smiling, he held out his hand. Lifting her head high, Diane took a few dainty steps down the stairwell and took his hand. Pulling her into his arms, Julian swept her round the hall, and held her close.

'Well, my lady,' he purred, his voice deeper and smoother. Diane tried not to giggle. 'Would you do me the honour of this dance?'

'Certainly, my lord.' Diane dropped into an exaggerated curtsey and allowed her husband to dance her down the hall towards the door.

Stopping just by the door, Julian held her close and planted a soft kiss on her lips.

'Now, stop worrying.'

'Okay, I promise.'

'Promise?' Julian raised an eyebrow sceptically.

'I mean it this time.'

Smiling, they kissed again, prolonging it as Diane wrapped her arms around his neck.

'Yuck!'

The immature snort of disgust came from the living room doorway. Both Julian and Diane turned to look down at the cause of the interruption. Their seven-year-old son, Remus, pulled a face and covered his eyes.

'That's enough of that, young man, get your coat,' said Julian. He checked his watch again. 'We're already late.'

Remus pulled on his coat and stood still while his mother quickly brushed his honey-brown hair. Julian stood back and considered. They all looked smart and presentable. Diane had a small gift for Tarquin in her bag and Remus didn't have any smudges on his face from being in the garden all morning. They were ready to go.

'Alright, everyone together and, Remus, stay perfectly still, I don't want to get Splinched – today of all days.'

Nodding, Remus took his mother's hand and she wrapped an arm round his father's waist. Taking a long mahogany wand from his pocket, Julian muttered a spell under his breath and a flash of light engulfed them. Next moment, the narrow hallway had disappeared to be replaced by the long driveway to a large house with balloons floating on either side of the door.

Julian quickly looked about and sighed his relief.

'Right on target,' he said, shoving his wand back into his pocket.

Diane looked on with interest at the shaped bushes lining the pathway.

'It's very fancy,' she whispered, holding on to Julian's arm. 'That house is huge, is it really just Tarquin and his wife?'

'His children moved out some years ago, I think,' Julian said. 'Presumably the eldest will come back here when they pass on. Got a few house elves from what I hear, but apart from that it's just the two of them.'

'It's lovely,' said Diane. Situated miles away from the nearest village, it was a safe place for a wizarding family to live. Diane and her husband had a nice cottage in the middle of Sedbergh a few miles south. She took pride in her garden but by the look of the front garden of this house, it was nowhere near as grand.

They climbed up the front steps and the double doors were opened from the inside. Remus was delighted to see a house-elf. They didn't have one at home. The elf bowed low so that her long nose nearly touched the carpet.

'Julian!' A loud, cheery voice boomed out of the hallway, followed by Tarquin Ottoman himself. A little red in the face from having a few glasses, Tarquin greeted them warmly.

'Glad you could make it, Julian,' he said, shaking hands.

'Pleasure to be here,' said Julian politely. 'This is my wife, Diane.' He led her forward and she gave a nervous smile, offering her hand.

Tarquin beamed.

'Welcome Diane – delighted to meet you at last.'

'Thank you,' said Diane, uncomfortably aware that she was blushing at the attention. Social gatherings were not high on her favourite pastime list, but Tarquin seemed friendly enough to ease any awkwardness.

'And who is this young man?' asked Tarquin, spying Remus. The boy looked up at Tarquin with wide blue-grey eyes. He'd been excited about going somewhere new, but seeing all the adults milling around, he wasn't sure if this was going to be as fun as he'd hoped it would.

Diane drew him out from behind her.

'This is Remus, our son,' she said.

'And a fine lad he is,' said Tarquin. 'You like flying, Remus?'

Remus nodded.

'Play Quidditch at all?'

'A little,' he said.

'Excellent.' Tarquin drew his wand and gave it a little flick but stopped as someone came up behind him, and said, rather loudly, 'Ahem.'

'Ah, Patricia, dear,' said Tarquin, hastily lowering his wand and looking somewhat guilty. 'There you are.'

Diane looked the hostess up and down. She was relieved to see that Patricia Ottoman was wearing cream, but with a rather artificial smile as she gave Diane an appraising look. Self-consciously, Diane cast a sidelong look into the ornate framed mirror to her right to check her reflection.

'Tarquin, aren't you going to introduce us?' Patricia said airily.

'Yes, dear,' said Tarquin. Diane suppressed a smile. Tarquin didn't appear overly pleased with his wife's attitude but was obviously too polite to admonish it. Or perhaps he was just used to it. 'This is Julian Lupin, one of my best designers.'

Patricia regally held out a gloved-hand and Julian, ever the gentleman, kissed it.

'And his wife, Diane.'

Diane offered a smile, but it waned under the scrutiny.

'Julian's work is just exquisite,' Tarquin went on, beckoning a house-elf over. One quickly came over with a tray of wineglasses and held it out.

'Elderberry wine?' he squeaked. 'Sir? Madam?'

'Thank you,' said Diane, as she took a glass for herself and handed another to Julian. The elf looked delighted, bowed and hurried out of sight. Patricia raised an eyebrow, as though speaking to servants was taboo. Working to keep a smile in place, Diane took a sip and turned her attention back to Julian and Tarquin.

'His craftsmanship, I have never seen the likes. Remember, Patricia, I brought one home to show you, that one with the Celtic woven-style down the handle?'

'It was very impressive,' said Patricia, turning a genuine smile to Julian. 'Have you been with us long?'

'Oh, two years this November,' he said.

'Lovely … and what is it that you do, my dear?'

Diane swallowed her mouthful of wine and blinked, startled.

'Me? Oh, I'm a full time mother,' she said, indicating Remus. Remus, bored with the adult chat, had wandered off down the hallway and was looking at an oil painting of a witch sitting astride a broom and gliding round a flowering meadow, before moving onto a much more interesting tapestry portraying an early form of Quidditch.

'Really?' said Patricia, both her plucked eyebrows raised. 'Just the one?'

Julian heard and cast an anxious look at Diane. She didn't answer straight away. Holding her head up, however, she answered in a quite steady voice, 'Yes. Just Remus.'

Julian cleared his throat.

'Mrs Ottoman-'

'Oh, Patricia, please,' she said, flashing him a smile.

'Patricia,' Julian nodded, 'Tarquin tells me you're quite a gardener …'

Further down the hall, Remus was still watching the Quidditch players on the old tapestry. It was a moment before he realised he wasn't alone in admiring it. Tarquin stood by him, looking from the tapestry to the small child.

'She's never liked this,' he said in a stage whisper, jerking his thumb over his shoulder. Remus turned to see Mrs Ottoman talking to his parents. 'Always trying to get rid of it. Been in the family for ages. Hey, there's some more youngsters like yourself round here somewhere. Do you want to go play with them?'

Remus brightened and nodded.

'They'll be out in the garden,' said Tarquin. 'Here, take this with you.'

Bringing his wand out again, Tarquin gave it a sharp flick. Remus watched with great interest as red sparks flew out of it like a fountain. Then, in Mr Ottoman's outstretched hand, appeared a large scarlet Quaffle.

'There we are, you take that outside and have a run around. You don't want to be stuck inside with old folk like us.'

'Thank you,' said Remus, eagerly taking the Quaffle.

'Garden's that way,' said Tarquin, turning the lad round and giving him a nudge in the right direction. 'Off you go.'

Remus set off at a run, weaving between the crowds of people. Holding the Quaffle to him, Remus quickly found the way out onto the terrace. He spied some children running around the hyacinths, and leapt down onto the lawn hurrying over.

Back inside, Diane had seized the opportunity to bolt as more guests arrived and Patricia Ottoman turned her attention to them. Grabbing Julian's arm, they both fled into the lounge.

'Well,' said Julian, somewhat disconcerted. 'She's really …'

'Snobbish?' Diane suggested out of the corner of her mouth.

'Hush, Diane, you don't want her to hear that,' said Julian, keeping a smile on his face as he waved hello to a few fellow employees.

'Might take her down a peg or two if she did. Honestly, don't you think she was rude?'

'Hmm.'

'Is she like that with everyone, do you think?'

'Diane, please,' Julian stopped and took her hand in his. 'I understand she's not the nicest person you'll ever meet, but can you please try to refrain from saying things about her within earshot of her friends? It wouldn't be the best thing considering I work with her husband.'

Casting a wary eye around the lounge, Diane noticed a few heads turning their way and felt a flush rise up her neck.

'I'm sorry, I didn't mean to embarrass you,' she whispered. She felt awful now. Not many people could resist a good gossip, and providing material wasn't the best thing to do.

'You're not embarrassing me,' Julian assured her. 'I just want you to enjoy yourself this evening, not spend it muttering curses behind the hostesses back … no matter much I agree with you,' he added with a guilty smile.

Diane laughed. Taking another sip of her wine, she happily greeted her husband's friends and said hello to the wives and the sons and daughters old enough to drink.

'Where's Remus gone?' she suddenly asked. Eyes sweeping the room, she couldn't see him. Feeling worried, Diane craned to see over the heads of everyone else.

'Your little lad's outside,' said a voice behind her. Diane spun round and put a hand to her chest.

'Mr Ottoman, do you always creep up on people like that?' she asked, checking she hadn't spilt any wine on the carpet. She had a bad feeling that Patricia would never have her back if she did.

'Only on people I like,' said Tarquin, with a wink.

Diane opened her mouth to ask whether he'd ever snuck up on his wife if that was the case, but thought better of it and held her tongue. Tarquin seemed to have read her mind however because he cast a wary eye over his shoulder.

'Don't worry, the old bat should be out of hearing,' he whispered. Diane giggled. Julian nearly choked on his wine but recovered as inconspicuously as possible. 'Told her I didn't want a fuss this year, but she never listens to me. I'm sure you two don't have such problems.'

'Oh, no, sir,' said Julian. Gazing fondly at his wife, Julian drew Diane to his side and kissed her hair. 'We're very happily married and intend to be so for many years to come.'

'Wonderful,' said Tarquin. His face took on a slightly more concerned expression. 'I'm sorry if this is none of my business, and please tell me to go away if it is, but I can't help but feel that Pat was less than tactful about asking about children?' He looked expectantly at them both.

The expressions on both Julian's and Diane's faces became oddly guarded. They shared a tender glance, before Diane chose to reply, speaking more to the floor than to Tarquin.

'Remus is the only child I've been able to carry to full term,' she muttered, uncomfortably aware of listening ears all around the room. 'And we've not tried again … not after so many …'

Tarquin looked mortified, not only at the confession but with himself. He slapped himself on the forehead and grimaced.

'Tarquin Oswald Ottoman, you idiot,' he hissed under his breath. 'Diane, Julian, I'm so sorry, I didn't realise-'

'It's alright,' said Diane, still speaking to the floor. Too many people had said sorry when they learned the truth, but it didn't change anything. She kept telling herself there shouldn't be any harm in asking, considering it had happened so long ago. But the memories still haunted her. Bravely, she lifted her head. Her eyes were a little red. 'Remus is a wonderful child and we're lucky to have him.'

Tarquin wrung his hands, looking awfully guilty for his curiosity.

'It was an inconsiderate thing to inquire about … shall I shut up and leave you in peace?'

Diane smiled. She'd taken a liking to the old man and didn't want him to go away thinking he'd mortally offended them.

'No, it's quite all right, you didn't know. It happened a long time ago, and after all, we do have a child and we're very happy.'

'And so you should be; he seems a delightful boy. I sent him outside to play with the other little kids, poor things would be bored stiff cooped up inside.'

Before long, Diane and Julian were able to relax and Tarquin encouraged them to mingle with the other guests, just as his wife came hunting for him.

'I feel so underdressed,' Diane confessed. 'Everyone else looks so fine.'

'You look beautiful, Di, stop comparing yourself to everyone else. You are a vision in my eyes … does it matter what any snob with too much money thinks?'

Diane gave her husband a shrewd look.

'Speak louder; they'll all hear.'

Laughing, they headed outside.

The string quartet was still playing and many witches and wizards were dancing slowly to the music. The air was cool as the sun was nearing the horizon. A swarm of fairy lights lit up and scattered among the flowers and bushes, illuminating the scene. Constant talk and sporadic laughter filled the air. Everyone was enjoying themselves and anticipating the birthday cake.

With a shout, a Quaffle sailed over the nearby Flutter-by bushes and bounced up to the terrace. Two well-dressed young witches squealed and tottered out of the way on their high-heeled shoes. Diane stepped forward and grabbed the Quaffle as it bounced up again. Remus, followed by another boy with dark hair and a skinny little girl with large pale eyes, came running into sight, panting.

'Where did this come from?' asked Diane, tossing the ball up and catching it again.

'Mr Ottoman gave it to me,' said Remus, very out of breath.

'Rosie kicked it over the bushes,' said the other boy, pointing.

'Did not,' argued the girl. She looked up at Diane. 'Can we have it back?'

'Sure, just be a bit more careful, all of you. You don't want to upset Mrs Ottoman by beheading her plants.' She tossed it to Remus. 'Now, make sure you don't lose it, sweetheart,' she added. 'You need to give it back to Mr Ottoman before we leave, okay?'

'Yes, mum,' said Remus. The three of them spun on their heels and ran off back to the others.

Remus raised the Quaffle above his head and threw it back into the midst of the other children. There were about eight of them, all of them younger than Remus, but the only other children at the gathering were in their mid-teens and not interested in playing around with the 'babies' as Remus had overheard from one young lady, trying to act grown-up though she was barely fourteen.

The Quaffle was tossed and bounced around between them, Rosie trying to kick it whenever it came towards her. Bryony and Imogen were only four and were scared of the Quaffle, but toddled after it, giggling and squealing if it rolled past them. Lindsey wandered round the flowerbed in a daydream. John, Luke and Edward, the only other boys, eagerly raced round with Remus, shouting and lobbing the Quaffle to each other. John, clearly a huge Quidditch fan, delighted in supplying a running commentary, mimicking what he could remember from listening to the radio broadcasts of recent matches.

'John passes to Eddie, Eddie fumbles the Quaffle and Rosie misses a kick for the third time!' he shouted, taking a leap over a bed of snapdragons, only just avoiding their tiny teeth-like petals. 'Remus grabs it, he throws it to the goal and scores!'

Remus fetched the Quaffle from among the slightly squashed plants. He paused for a second to try and lift one up a little, but the long stem sagged hopelessly and he gave up. He laughed with the other boys and ran around with seemingly endless energy. He knew a few of them from his home village but it was nice to see new faces occasionally.

Luke darted for the Quaffle as Imogen ducked to avoid it.

'Eddie's coming in fast – hey, Rosie, get out of it!'

But Rosie, wanting to join in with the boys, had already run up to the Quaffle and gave it a good hard kick. The Quaffle flew up and arched in the air, falling right into someone's hands.

All the children stopped.

Remus knew the boy in an instant. Tyler Herald. Fourteen years old, surly and very bad-tempered. His short black hair was spiked up and his face was covered in pustules. Always moody, the teen was not particularly well liked in Sedbergh but respected by what few teenagers there were. Leader of a small gang of kids in the area, Tyler looked dreadfully out of place standing beside the Flutter-bys. No doubt his parents were around somewhere and had left him to his own devices.

He cast a malevolent glare over the youngsters, tossing the Quaffle up and spinning it on his finger. Remus didn't like Tyler and his mother had warned him many times to stay away from him, but remembering what she'd said about returning the Quaffle, he went over to the teenager.

'Can we have our ball back, please?' he asked, again recalling his mother's warning to always mind his manners, no matter who he spoke to.

Tyler stopped spinning the Quaffle and caught in his hands. Throwing Remus a sneer, he tossed it up and starting bouncing it on his head, keeping it high in the air.

'Hey,' said Remus, not happy at being ignored. 'Can we have it back?'

'Yeah,' said Luke, coming up beside him. 'We had it first.'

'Tough,' snapped Tyler. He spun it on his finger again. 'Go on,' he said, 'Try and take it.'

Remus reached for it but Tyler lifted it up above his head.

'Missed it.'

Again, he lowered it just enough for Remus to try for it. Trying to be quicker, Remus snatched for it. Again, he missed.

'It's not mine,' he protested. 'I need to give it back to Mr Ottoman.'

'Oh, really? Well, guess what? It's mine now.'

'No, it's not, give it back!'

'What? You going to make me?' Mockingly, Tyler put on a frightened face. 'Ah, is the ickle kiddie gonna make me give him his ball back? Gasp! I'm so fwightened!'

Sniggering, the boy started dancing among them, dodging left, right and spinning round, keeping the Quaffle just out of their reach. All of them crowded round in protest, reaching for it and crying for him to return it.

'It's not yours,' stated Remus loudly. Stealing was wrong. Why wouldn't he give it back to them? 'I want it back!'

Tyler stopped dancing around to look at him.

'Oh, you do, do you?'

Remus nodded.

Tyler shrugged.

'All right then.'

He held out the Quaffle. Eyeing it suspiciously for a moment, Remus stepped forward and reached for it. Abruptly, Tyler straightened up, turned and threw it hard. The children all turned in time to watch the scarlet ball sail over the fence and disappear. Tyler smirked at Remus.

'Go and get it then.'

Remus felt his stomach drop. That was Mr Ottoman's Quaffle. His mum expected him to return it before they went back home. If he lost it, he'd be in trouble.

But the woodland beyond the fence made him hesitant.

The sun had just set and darkness was closing in rapidly. Already the trees were deep in shadow. Stars were slowly lighting the sky above as they came out of hiding. The moon cast silvery shadows into the dark, but it did look rather scary. Shadows flittered through the tree branches. Remus hoped it was just a bat.

'What's the matter?' Tyler scoffed. 'Is the little kiddie scared of the dark?'

'No, I'm not!' Remus glared at him. He wasn't scared of the dark.

'Then go get it, then.'

John and Edward exchanged nervous looks. Imogen and Bryony had scurried off, unnoticed, back to their mothers. Luke was looking apprehensive. Remus looked over to where all the grown-ups were standing. Mr Ottoman was standing up and giving some sort of speech. His mother and father were listening attentively. No one was watching the children.

Making up his mind, Remus walked over to the fence.

'You'll be in big trouble,' warned Lindsey. 'My dad said we're not allowed in there.'

'I won't be long,' said Remus. The wooden fence was easy enough to climb through. Leaning over the low thin log that made up one rung of the fence, Remus swung his leg up and clambered through, keeping his head down to avoiding bumping it on the other piece of wood.

'Beware the monsters,' Tyler called after him. He gave an evil cackle, hoping to scare the boy.

But Remus found his feet and said, 'Bet you're too scared to come in here.'

The smile vanished from Tyler's face. The other children giggled and gasped. He knew it wasn't a nice thing to say, but Remus felt better for it. He'd climbed through the fence and nothing had happened. It wasn't scary.

Turning round, Remus looked about for the Quaffle. It was several feet below him, floating on the surface of the water of the creak. The starlight was shimmering over the dark surface, reflecting the black sky and the overhanging branches of the trees on the opposite bank.

The slope didn't look too steep. Slowly, Remus sat down on the ground with his legs stretched out in front of him, and slid down. The slope was dry so he had to push himself along. Twigs, small stones and dry earth rolled down with him, some of it landing in the water with tiny splashes.

The Quaffle bobbed away with the ebb of the water. Knowing his mother would probably not be happy with him soaking his shoes and socks, Remus hovered on the edge and leaned over, hoping to bob it back towards him. Just out of reach, the Quaffle drifted away and bumped against the other side. A fallen stick caught it and held the ball there.

There didn't appear to be any stepping-stones so Remus took a few steps further along the bank to see if he could find the best spot to cross. He looked back up the slope. Luke, John, Lindsey, Edward and Rosie were all hovering by the fence, sticking their heads through the gap to see better. There was a shower of dirt and stones as Tyler came stumbling down the slope. Remus leapt out of the way in case Tyler ran into him.

Coming to a less than dignified stop, Tyler got to his feet and called back up the slope.

'There! See? Easy for someone like me – not scared of nothing, me.' He threw a nasty look at Remus as he said it.

Remus ignored him. The Quaffle might come loose and drift away if he didn't get it back quick. Finding a spot where he could see a number of large flat rocks near the surface, Remus took a big step and started to make his way across.

Luke and the others were all making hushed noises of awe from behind him.

'Hey, you warn me if someone comes,' Tyler snapped at them. The children nodded, Rosie twisting her head to look.

The rocks were slippery and covered in green slime. Remus wobbled a little but managed to keep his balance. Slowly, he edged his way across, the water sloshing over his shoes. When he was close enough, he stood poised, swung his arms a few times, and jumped from the last rock to the far bank. A cheer sounded from the other side of the fence as he picked up the Quaffle and held it up triumphantly.

A sudden flurry of movement in the leaves over his head made Remus jump. A bird shot out of its nest and flew away, chirping in rapid bursts as though frightened. Tyler himself jumped, and then recovered himself quickly to hide any embarrassment.

'Ha, knew you scared easy,' he said, dusting his robes off nonchalantly. Looking across the creak at Remus, his gaze travelled up the far bank and into the trees. He became very still. His eyes narrowed, squinting into the darkness, and then slowly widened, his mouth slightly open.

Puzzled, Remus turned and looked up.

A small gasp escaped his mouth as it fell open.

A pair of gleaming yellow eyes were floating in the shadows. Then Remus' eyes adjusted to the gloom and he made out the body of a very large creature behind the eyes.

It was huge. Its fur was coarse and slate grey, blending with the blue-grey shadows. The tufted tail swayed back and forth slowly as the animal crouched on its front legs. It sniffed the air and the eyes stared unblinkingly down into the ditch. The two pointed ears atop its head swivelled round.

Remus stood rooted to the spot. He didn't make a sound, but the beating of his heart was pounding in his ears so loudly he was sure the creature could hear it. His palms were sweating and his hands shaking. The Quaffle nearly slipped from his grasp. He had never seen a wolf before. Well, in pictures at least, but never in the flesh. He was both awed and frightened by the beast's presence. Perfectly still and silent, the wolf stood like it was made of stone. Then it moved. The snort, a little shorter than a normal muzzle, swung first to the left, then to the right. It sniffed again, and let out a snarl. A jaw full of long pointed teeth glinted in the half-light.

Tyler made a faint croaking sound and whispered an oath, but he didn't move. Remus stared up the wolf. Part of him was screaming at him to run back to his mother but the rest of him was held paralysed by the mesmerising glow of the yellow eyes as the wolf turned its head, and looked directly at him.

For a moment, their eyes locked onto each other's. Vibrant yellow that saw through the dark met pale blue-grey, wide and fearful. Remus did not blink. The yellow eyes seemed to penetrate deep into his own, like it was looking into his mind. A momentary flicker passed through the wolf's gaze, and it lowered its head, as if it were considering him. Another snarl sounded from its throat. But still, it didn't move.

Somehow, Remus' right foot managed to free itself of the Petrified state of the rest of his body to take a tiny step backwards.

Just back away, his brain finally instructed through the fear. Just back away slowly … don't make any sudden movements … get back to mum and dad … I'll be safe with them …

But the wolf caught the movement. An increasingly angry sound rumbled out of its throat. The muscles in its massive shoulders bunched and the wolf stealthily took a step forward on one huge paw. The black claws were long and sharp. The mouthful of teeth gleamed as the wolf emerged from the shadows. The light of the full moon caught its face, highlighting the dark silvery grey of the fur, and the pointed teeth as it opened its mouth hungrily, saliva dripping from its jaw.

'WEREWOLF!' Tyler yelled in a panic, suddenly recovering his voice and the use of his legs. Pointing at it, Tyler stumbled backwards, landed on his backside and, yelping like something had grabbed him, scrambled round and tried to clamber back up the slope. 'WEREWOLF!'

High-pitched squeals of horror rang through the trees as John, Luke, Edward, Lindsey and Rosie all panicked and ran blindly in circles before disappearing from the fence.

The werewolf jerked its head round. Eyes alight with madness, the beast fixed its gaze on the floundering teenager. Larger than the other creature by the water, it was struggling; an easy kill …

The powerful muscles in the beasts' shoulders and legs propelled it through the air with such speed Remus had barely blinked before the huge wolf was down the slope, past him and about to leap over the creak. Tyler was scrabbling furiously at the earth, his shoes slipping on the damp ground. He was only a few feet from the fence. But it wasn't close enough.

Without thinking any more than was necessary, Remus threw the Quaffle with all his might. The ball smacked the wolf on the head. It faltered in mid-leap and landed awkwardly on the edge of the bank, missing Tyler by inches. The huge paws slipped into the water and the animal threw its head back, an enraged howl erupting from its jaws. Its head snapped round, eyes blazing.

Tyler, panting and gibbering in his panic, shot up the slope and vaulted the fence.

'WEREWOLF!' he yelled again, his voice ragged and growing rapidly faint as he ran away. 'IN THE WOODS! WEREWOLF!'

It happened so fast Remus didn't have time to even think.

His breath was coming in short hiccoughing gasps, and he only succeeded in taking one step towards the fence, when a blur of grey flew at him with a savage cry. Remus was violently knocked off his feet and the sharp, serrated fangs sank deep into his side. Pain exploded in his chest, ripping through his body. Partly stunned, Remus couldn't make a sound until the wolf pinned him down, released and bit again. A scream of pain was torn from his throat, mingled with a plea for help. But the wolf lifted him up again, it's teeth sinking deeper into his flesh, and started to run.

-o-

A fiery blaze of candles atop a monster of a cake was levitated out of the house and brought over to Tarquin as the assembled crowd sang at the top of their voices. He would have considered it deafening had he not been partially deaf in one ear already. Looking round at all the beaming faces, the modest pile of gifts awaiting his attention once the cake was cut and shared out, Tarquin Ottoman had to admit, that regardless of his initial protests, this party was certainly going to be one to be remembered.

-o-

The wolf bounded a short way down the creak, the water splashing and soaking its fur, but it ignored it. Blood, warm, coppery, fresh flowing blood poured into its mouth. The prey, small and struggling weakly, was helpless to fight back. It let out a wail of agony, but it hadn't the strength to call to its pack for help. Short limbs flailed and tried to strike out, but it was weakening fast. Blood was everywhere. Another cry escaped the wounded two-legged creature. Distressed and shaking uncontrollably, the wolf dropped it. The young creature could barely voice its pain as it fell to the ground. It lay still, curling up into a ball and whimpering. Water streamed from its eyes, trickling down its pale face. The wide eyes peered up at its killer, not understanding why, but knowing in that instant, that it was about to die.

Eyes locked on the exposed throat, the wolf went in for the kill.

-o-

At first, no one heard the cry. Everyone was still singing Happy Birthday at the top of their lungs and it wasn't until they'd reached the last line did the panicked cry permeated the rest of the noise.

'Werewolf!' someone was shouting from the end of the garden. 'Werewolf! Someone, help!'

People on the edge of the crowd caught the words first and turned, curiously, disbelievingly, toward the young man running to them like a Quintaped was on his heels. A few people muttered and dismissed his inaudible cries almost immediately.

'Only that Tyler brat.'

'What's he doing here anyway?

'You'd think his parents would have left him at home if they'd had any sense.'

But one look at his ashen face, Julian knew the fear wasn't fake. Diane clutched his arm as Tyler skidded to a halt, gesturing wildly back towards the woods.

'Werewolf!' he gasped, his chest heaving. 'In the woods! It's after me!'

For a second no one was sure what to think, whether he was telling yet another lie or not, but then children who had been playing down at the bottom of garden caught up, all of them screaming and crying.

'There's a big wolf!'

'The monster's by the creak!'

'It was gonna eat us!'

'Mummy!'

'It's a werewolf!'

Diane's heart slammed against her chest. Where was Remus? Eyes darting frantically among the squabbling group, she couldn't see him.

'Where's Remus?' she cried, darting forward and grabbing Tyler's arm. 'Where's my son?'

'What?' Tyler seemed about to faint, staring blankly at her.

'My son! Light brown hair, this high – where is he?'

'Back there,' Tyler finally croaked, sinking to his knees and gesturing limply towards the woods.

Diane's eyes widened. The air went ice cold and vanished from her lungs. Julian too was struck dumb for a moment. All around, people were starting to panic. Some of the wizards were trying to organise a group to go down and investigate, others insisting on calling the Ministry. All the while, Patricia Ottoman was looking positively scandalised and trying to restore calm, claiming there was nothing to be concerned about. Mothers hastily gathered their children and ran for the safety of the house.

But not Diane.

'Remus!' she shouted. 'REMUS!'

Taking off at a run, Diane sprinted down the garden, pulling her wand from her pocket as she ran. Julian raced after her.

'No! Diane, don't!'

She ignored him. Legs pumping, one of her shoes flew off but she didn't falter. Several other wizards had grabbed their wands and followed, but they were several paces back.

Reaching the fence, Diane screamed hoarsely into the night.

'REMUS! WHERE ARE YOU?'

A vicious snarl from beyond the fence was her only answer. Julian raced past her and vaulted over the fence. He slid down the earthy slope and staggered at the bottom, splashing into the water running through the ditch.

'REMUS!' he bellowed, eyes frantically searching the darkness but seeing nothing but shadows.

Then he spotted it. Two gleaming eyes, low to the ground and twenty feet away up the creak, was the beast. Heart pounding, Julian swung his wand round and cast a shield over himself in case the animal charged.

It was a werewolf, and it was enormous. It was bigger than Julian had imagined they would be. At least the size of a small horse if it stood up tall, the monster was hunched over in the water, holding something in its jaws. Snarling, the beast shook what looked like nothing more than a limp sack, flopping about in the clutches of the animal.

Julian's entire body seemed to freeze … he couldn't breathe … this wasn't happening … it couldn't be …

The wolf unceremoniously dropped what it was carrying. It splashed into the water and a shaft of moonlight caught the bloodstained honey-brown head.

The world had stopped spinning. The ground was falling away.

Then a faint whimper reached Julian's ears and a mixture of horror and hope filled his heart.

His son was still alive.

The wolf moved to stand over the small body, growling menacingly. The eyes were rolling and mad with the bloodlust. Quivering, the wolf held its ground, determined to defend its kill.

Anger, horror, a boiling rage surged through Julian's blood, fuelled by the horrific scream of his wife behind him. Diane had followed him. Raising his wand, Julian bellowed a curse. A streak of silver-white light cracked through the air like a bolt of lightning. It hit the water in front of the wolf, sending a great splash of water up in its face. It snapped its jaws and took a step forward. Julian bellowed again, and this time the spell struck the werewolf across the face. With a primal scream of pain, the wolf lurched backwards, shaking its head. Blood poured from the wound. Blinded, the werewolf spun, confused and disorientated. Julian shouted the spell a third time, taking a huge risk in running towards it. He missed, but the wolf, wounded and under attack, suddenly fled into the darkness. With a huge leap, the wolf was up the slope and into the woods. In the blink of an eye, it was gone.

'REMUS!'

Hysterical, Diane threw herself down into the water and scrambled over to her son. He wasn't moving. Blood was flowing with the bubbling water, pumping from a horrendous wound spanning the boy's entire chest.

Blinded by tears and screaming hoarsely, Diane drew Remus into her lap and cradled him, calling his name over and over. Julian dropped into the shallow water beside them.

'Remus?' he called, feeling the child's neck for a pulse. 'Remus, can you hear me?' Struggling to breathe, he raised his head and shouted to the wizards who had reached the fence and had frozen out of fear at the sight of the werewolf. 'We need some help! Someone get a Healer! NOW!'

'Mummy,' came a frightened whimper from Diane's lap, barely audible. She let out a cry, half joy and half grief, as Remus opened his eyes. He couldn't seem to focus them on anything.

'Shh,' said Diane, stroking his hair with a violently trembling hand. 'It's okay, sweetheart, you're okay, mummy's here …'

There was blood everywhere. Remus' skin was deathly pale and cold to the touch. He opened his mouth to try and speak again, but the last of his strength left him. He let out a shallow breath, his eyes rolled back into his head and he went limp in her arms.

'Remus?' Diane called, panic swelling in her chest once more in a searing wave. 'REMUS!'

Breaking down in tears, Diane Lupin screamed incoherently into the night, her husband Julian at her side, tears streaming down his face and shaking uncontrollably.

High above them, the full moon glowed red, and a distant, wounded howl sounded on the wind.

-o-

To Be Continued …

-o-

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