AN: This is Technically the First Chapter of this story but I like to think of it a Prologue as it barely scrapes what I have in mind for the first act and doesn't yet follow the format I'm planning to use for the rest of the fic. This is a BARELY planned Novel length story so be warned, I might not be very quick on the update, and although I do have a loose story plan, it's tentative and subject to MAJOR changes.
'thinking' "talking" *wolfspeak/thought* *parseltongue*
The Wizarding world is saved, Voldemort has been vanquished, but not all is right in the world. The Marauders are broken apart and the Order of the Phoenix is in shambles. Families are licking their wounds, mourning their dead, and in the wake of the bloodshed and death many have fallen to cheating and corruption. Man's greed is brought out from within and even the Ministry of Magic has been corrupted; Pureblood Elite run the country, an innocent man has been incarcerated in Hell on Earth, Non-Human magicals are being degraded, and in some cases hunted down, and what of Harry Potter, the savior of the Magical world?
Prologue
In which the Dursleys ignore, the Order sleeps, Sirius Black suffers and Remus Lupin mourns for his pack.
Silent Night
One week after the fall of Voldemort
The baby, whose very name wizards of all ages both shouted and whispered through the streets of Diagon Alley and all of Wizarding England, lay on a small lumpy cot of the unpleasantly scratchy sort in a musty cupboard under some stairs, all but forgotten by the family that refused to love him like they should've. His diaper is soiled, lumpy and altogether uncomfortable. He would have cried for it to be changed, if he had not already known that it would bring no help at all.
Young Harry learned, soon enough after being left on the doorstep of number 4 Privet Drive, not to cry lest the aggravated shouting and hostile growls start again. Sometimes he would hear another one's cries but instead of the shouts and growls he'd get, there were gentle sounds of soothing. These were oddly familiar, as if he'd had the same sounds directed at him; the same, but entirely different. At first he couldn't help it, he was used to crying; felt the urge to cry, because it is in a baby's nature to cry, but then barely muffled thumping would come from overhead, causing dust from the ceiling to fall on him followed by the opening of his small door and so the darkness of his solitude would be overcome by a harsh light and just like that the gentle silence of the cupboard would be unceremoniously shattered with grunts and growls of, in what was the baby's capacity to detect, hostility.
Tonight was different though, because tonight he knew better. 'The other one is soothed, I am shouted at.' He did not cry, not anymore. All was quiet in Surrey.
In the dining room of a small and isolated house, on a block of unplottable land just south of Devon, a group made up of wizards, witches and a half-giant sit around a large rectangular table. Their dinner remains untouched though, and any conversations are quiet, simple and short. They were just too well reminded of the steep price of victory by the many empty seats of fallen friends and allies to have the celebration they meant to have.
Sensing that the time was right to give his speech, Albus Dumbledore clears his throat and begins. One woman hears just enough to surmise that their Order, being of no more use at this time, had just disbanded. She searches the room for the one other man she wanted to talk to that night and isn't surprised when she finds that he's absent too. She says her goodbyes just as Albus finishes his speech, and leaves her seat; the first of the group out the door. As she steps through the door and gets outside she gives her eyes a moment to adjust to the pale light of the night and notices the moon. She stops and for the first time in a long time, the coldness in her eyes is replaced by sadness. Her hair is silver in the moonlight. She feels stupid for forgetting.
Amidst the screaming wails and daft mutterings of the insane, criminal, and criminally insane, one man waits for a trial that will never come, clinging desperately to his sanity. By all accounts his situation would be hopeless, but the man does not care; he knows he is innocent. 'And so is little Harry'
He stares at the four silver bars of moonlight on his wall created by the three barred iron window of his prison cell. He sits for a while, just staring at the silver pillars of light. For a few seconds his mind is away from this place and unhearing of the cacophony of animal like noise, but then his head snaps down as if ashamed and his chest hurts as he takes a few shuddering breathes. He's taking a deep breath to steady himself when the air grows cold and stabs a pain in his lungs rivaled only by the one in his heart. He quickly tries to repress his memories, all the important ones at least, but he quickly realizes that he is much too late to try a feat of Occlumency as difficult as that in the time he has. Panicked his eyes scan his cell and almost immediately focus once more on the bars of silver moonlight. Suddenly he knows what he has to do and where Sirius Black was sits a large black dog.
The wailings stop. The mutterings cease. All but one are overcome by an intense feeling of hopelessness and smothering depression. The Dementors have come. Azkaban is silent again.
Moonlight slipped through the trees that covered the ground for miles without end and over mountains and hills. The lights dance through grass and thick fauna and over the surface of the softly trickling stream, creating a stunning contrast to the darkness of the night sky. Among the dancing lights and along the little stream walks a silver wolf. Every now and then, the silver wolf would stretch out its great hind legs and take a drink from the stream. It is mid drink when its ears pick up another wolf's howl. The silver wolf stares upward in the direction of the howling sound just as it ends. For a moment, the silver wolf stops and continues to stare unmoving until the howl picks up again. It is louder this time, and if possible, even more sorrowful then the last. The silver wolf takes off, presumably to check on the other wolf.
*Can't I get one night to myself without any disturbances?* Delta the FarScout thought to himself as he bounded in the direction of the howler.
It had been this silver wolf's turn to prowl the perimeter along the north-west end of his pack's territory and he was downright annoyed by the sudden appearance of a wolf from another pack. The reason why he was so annoyed was that the north-west job was usually the quietest and overall safest job you could get as a FarScout, and as the highest ranked member of the four FarScouts, only gave himself the position once in a blue moon. *Actually, I guess i should say 'full moon' considering what tonight is.*
Delta gives a short shivering movement and sways its head back in the wolf's equivalent of a chuckle, but the grin on its face quickly disappears and becomes deadly focused. He had just reached a small clearing in the trees where his little stream joins a smallish river and dips down 30 ft into a lake, marking the end of their territory, and just west of where he agreed to meet Epsilon and the rookie Lambda. The mini waterfall was not what bothered him though. What was bothering him was the big gray werewolf that sat on a rock 5 ft from the edge of the waterfall. *and 5 ft too far into our territory!*
Delta appraised the great halfwolf for a few tense moments. The werewolf was hunch backed with disproportionate shoulders and long sinewy-muscled legs. Its skin was a dirty greyish color with tufts of brown fur in odd places and was a frightening sight, easily being 7ft tall. Delta of course, was also very large, being magical and not just a mundane wolf and then was also above average in size for at just over 5ft tall. Luckily, it was facing towards the cliff and so, had its back turned to him.
The werewolf continues to sound its sorrowful howl as Delta tries to decide what to do next. Sounding the call to his pack mates was out because if he did the werewolf would hear and he'd be dead before they got here... if it was hostile.
*IF it was hostile?! Of course it's hostile, it's a bloody werewolf!* he thought. Then he brings his attention back to the howling were and his ears pick up just a bit more from the howls of the outsider. The tone and feelings radiating from the sounds were unmistakable and Delta had to bite down a whimper of pity for the mourning halfwolf.
*He...just lost his pack. Shit, that's rough.* Delta knew what happened to magical wolves who'd lost their pack. Much like a caged wolf, a pack less wolf quickly falls into madness, falling clumsily down the pit of feral rage. It was even worse for magical wolves, whose magic were directly related to the state of one's pack.
Delta's thoughts were interrupted when he finally noticed the pulsating silver light in front of him. He stared in shock at what was happening before him as the light grew closer and closer towards him- no wait, towards the werewolf. *Okaaay...this is confusing*
His eyes were transfixed; he couldn't even look away from the sudden blinding flash of power. He could feel the magic in the air. It felt primal, more archaic than wizard's magic or even goblin and elven magiks. This power felt much more like his own magic.
As the light dims slightly, Delta's eyes slowly adjust and he shakes his head and blinks in confusion at the sight that meets him.
Before him was a figure on four legs. It had a thick dark brown coat of fur, and instead of the deformed and disproportionate shoulders, its body looked natural and lean from snout to tail. In place of the mourning werewolf was another true wolf like himself.
The other wolf must have sensed his presence because it turned around to face him. Their eyes meet for just a second and Delta sees the look of utter confusion in its eyes before the brown wolf collapses. Delta slowly makes his way towards the brown wolf. Cautious and still totally confused, he nudges the wolf's body, but the brown wolf stays unconscious.
Moments later, Delta sounds the call for his pack with only one thought running through his mind, *what the hell just happened?*
AN: 'What the hell just happened?' indeed. Find out it the next chapter! :D
In which Remus is a wolf, we get some backstory as to just how he got that way, we meet some more of Delta's pack, and we get to find out the name of the silver-haired girl. The next chapter will be in Remus' POV and might remain that way for a while. Reviews will be much appreciated.