Rating of R
I do not own the characters, JKR does. I simply borrow them.
"...Greyback specializes in children...Bite them young, he says, and raise them away from their parents, raise them to hate normal wizards"
-Remus Lupin, Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince, 334
What if, when Remus Lupin was bitten, Greyback stole him off into the middle of the night. What if he was never found. What if he never went to Hogwarts and never met three people that could change his life forever. What if he met one of them. Six years too late. This is that what if story.
Beta read by ErikaDominica2790.
Blood Chronicles
-
It was another two hours before the door creaked open again and a tired Sirius shuffled in, the corner of the Marauder's Map poking out of his back pocked and the invisibility cloak tucked away from any wandering eyes. James sat up straight on the edge of his four poster, crumbling his parchment of comic book drawings between his fingers and lobbing it in the trashcan. Sirius didn't even acknowledge him as he flopped, face first, onto his own unmade bed.
"Sir-"
"Not a word," he mumbled, his speech handicapped through the pillow.
"What happened? Did you find him? Are you alright?" questions flew from James' mouth at light speed and he felt more then a little guilty that his last question concerned his friend's health. Sirius heaved a long suffering sigh and pulled the pillow over his head. "Sirius?" James sat down on the end of the bed, generally concerned.
"Ikodntlindem," he grumbled into the sheet draped mattress.
"What?"
"I couldn't find him," Sirius said audibly as he lifted his head slightly and then slammed in back onto the mattress. James smirked, patted his best friend on the head, got up, killed the light, and crawled into his own bed.
"Hey Sirius?" he asked after two full minutes of ringing silence, his arms bent behind his head as he gazed knowingly at the ceiling.
"Yeah?"
"I told you so."
"Shaddup, Potter."
-
"It didn't work the first time around, so what makes you so sure it'll work the second time around?"
"Gut feeling."
James scrunched up his nose and twirled his Head Boy badge around between his fingers.
"Your gut feelings aren't famous for being right."
"Well this one's right, I can feel it. How many gut feelings do you have that you really feel?"
"According to you this would be the seventh gut feeling that you can really feel in the past two days. Do you remember what happened to us the last time you had a gut feeling that you could-"
"Just shut up and give me the Goddamn cloak."
-
Padfoot trotted easily down the cluttered side yards of the tiny, but cozy, houses of Hogsmead, with the dieing rays of the sun on his shoulders. The bear like black dog reached the corner and slowed his pace until he was at a stand still.
He wined and looked up and down the main street, silver eyes searching for any sign of the pickpocket he was hoping to bring to justice. No dice, the street was void of all suspicious looking, potential thieves. Great, that was just his luck. The boy turned dog slouched heavily on his haunches and was just starting to think that James was right when it came to his gut feelings, when something caught his attention.
His head snapped swiftly to the side, ears pricked forward, back straight, and body tense like a spring ready to snap. Something had just whipped around the corner at the far end of the cobblestone street, where the outskirts of the town faded into the wild forest. Something that looked vaguely familiar.
Like a bullet, Padfoot tore down the street, nearly knocking over an elderly woman who was laden with shopping bags in the process. He rounded the corner and at the very end of the alleyway, half hidden in shadow, was the very boy he'd been trying to track down for the better part of the past two days.
The canine cocked his head to one side and watched as he poured a seemingly endless waterfall of golden coins into his hand. He snorted the best a dog could manage. So it seemed that his new, cunning friend had a hobby. Padfoot picked his way gradually down the alley, trying his best to look frightening with his pinned ears, raised lips, bared teeth, and bristling fur.
His back foot turned over a stone and the boy froze. Padfoot growled low and threateningly in his throat. The pickpocket turned, but when his eyes landed on Padfoot he let out the breath he'd been holding.
The grim Animagus was taken aback by the non-fazed reaction but advanced none the less, if not more terrifyingly than before. For the most part the thief ignored him. He counted the gold, silver, and bronze coins, pulling a disgusted face whenever he came across a Sickle and pushed them into the bag without touching them. Only when Padfoot was fully upon him did he turn to face the dog again.
"Stupid dog," he muttered, kicking up the rocks beneath his shoes. "Go 'way." Padfoot flinched away from the flying stones.
So it seemed that James' cousin Jordan wasn't the only person alive who would hurt a dog. When all the coins were safely tucked away, he fled down the opposite end of the dirty walled alley. Padfoot cantered lazily after him. He wasn't going to let some petty attack hinder him.
When Remus reached the edge of the forest, he looked over his shoulder, double checking that dusk was providing a good cover for his hurried escape. Golden eyes landed on the happily panting canine and narrowed.
"What do you want?" he snapped, patience thinning at an alarming rate. Padfoot sat down and wagged his tail enthusiastically. "I don't have anything for you." the dog cocked his head to the side and his tail flew like a twig in the core of a tornado. "Mutt."
Remus disappeared into the dense woods with a tongue lolling mutt in his wake.
Twigs, and dead autumn leaves snapped and crackled under Remus' boots as he trudged through the forest to the earth walled den that he'd called home for nearly eleven years. Padfoot followed faithfully, if not a few paces behind for in fear of another blow. His nostrils flared to inhale the mingled dusk sent of the woods and his eyes widened to take in his new surroundings.
The shaggy, midnight black dog sighed and jogged on, wondering all the while where they were actually distended to go. He'd never been in this part of the woods before and took a special notice of how much wilder and darker it seemed compared to the other parts. They must have walked at least two miles when a new reverberation made his ears perk forward.
Laughter. Children's laughter.
Children? Padfoot thought as he strained his ears for more out of the ordinary noises and eyes for any out of the ordinary sights. What would a bunch of kids be doing this far in the middle of nowhere?
Not a moment later did he and his leader emerge into a large clearing that was scattered with wild berry bushes and what looked like a badly managed door into the side of a sloping hillside. Around the vast clearing ran about a dozen or more children, all engaged in some kind of made up game whose winner and rules was uncertain.
Padfoot stopped short of the edge of the wild grass meadow, and for the first time in a half an hour let his prey get more then six feet away from him, and blinked twice. Of all the things in the world he'd expected to find, a group of laughing, running children in the middle of a otherwise lifeless forest was not very high on his list.
His vision refocused and still presented him with the same sight. Same laughing, running, obnoxious brats. He shook his head. Exactly the same result. He pawed at his face. Nope, same.
Padfoot stood perplexed and watched as they all froze mid-play at the approach of the pickpocket. A hot, bubbling, molten fire rage boiled deep within the dog's belly. What if he was here to hurt them? How low could you get to want to hurt a bunch of-
"Smoke!" the tiny voices bellowed in unison and a mob of little bodies formed rapidly.
They tore down the clearing and tackled the boy like a twenty foot storm surge wave. His earlier rage and rancor evaporated quickly and was replaced with something twice as sickening.
Guilt.
What if all of these kids were his family? What if they were all his little brothers and sisters and that the only reason he'd stolen money in the first place was to feed them all? Padfoot was torn between prancing into the field like a harmless puppy and turning tail and running all the way back to his dorm room. He shifted uneasily, feeling very much like he was intruding on something that was never meant to be seen by outside eyes, whether they be human or dog. Thankfully he didn't have to make a decision.
"-a puppy! Smoke brought home a puppy!"
The puppy in question only had enough time to realize that the puppy they were talking about was him before he was drowned in a flurry of hailing hands. He yelped at the sudden, unexpected surge of attention and bolted across the uneven ground to hide behind the person who had brought him home in the first place.
A dozen running, yelling children were right on his tail. Literally. But the moment he paused to take a breath they were on him in an instant, dragging him down to the ground, tugging ruthlessly at his ears, and petting his sleek body. His human shield backed away from them, amused smirk playing on his lips.
Damn him, I bet he's really enjoying this.
"Alright, alright! Don't suffocate him! Whose hungry?"
Those two simple words sent them flocking off of Padfoot and around the amused speaker's knees. Padfoot rolled back onto his feet, thanking his lucky stars that all those brats were too hungry to worry much about smothering him to death. He shook his body, dirt scattering from his shaggy fur that stood up in every direction, rumpled by little hands and trotted with a sulking air over to the foot of the house set into the hillside.
Now seemingly more interested in the promise of food then the thought of a puppy to terrorize, the children filed in nosily through the door. He started to follow them inside with the hopes of scraps on his mind when he was hauled firmly back by the scruff of his neck. The dog growled and whirled around, only to come face to face with the pickpocket.
"You," he jabbed a finger at Padfoot, "Need to stay with me," now he pointed to himself. "At all times. Got that?"
Padfoot rolled his eyes the best a dog could manage and wagged his tail in response. It often slipped his mind that not many others knew the secret that was Sirius Black and Padfoot. Actually, apart from him and James nobody knew. And he intended to keep it that way.
"And whatever you do," he snapped back to reality with that said. "Stay clear, completely clear, of Greyback."
He cocked his head...He'd heard that name before. Greyback...For a few moments he rolled the name over and over in his head and when nothing clicked gave it up as a lost cause and wagged his tail again. The pickpocket sighed and stood up, ran a hand through his uncombed hair.
"God, Remus," he muttered, more to himself then to his canine companion. "You're losing it buddy. First to drag home some stray mutt," here he paused to glare accusingly at the stray mutt that he'd brought home. "And now you're talking to him," he sighed and shook his head sadly. "And now you're talking to yourself about talking to a stupid dog...Great, that's just wonderful."
He went inside and waited until Padfoot followed him in before the door shut out the outside world.
Remus? the dog thought as he trotted at the boy's heels down a steep incline with soil walls. What kind of a name is Remus? Strange...
Padfoot glanced around and easily came to the decision that maybe it wasn't that weird of a name for a guy who made a living off pick pocketing, talking to himself, lived under ground, and it cap it all off he could put up with a heard of dog terrorizing children. No, the name fit just fine.
Around the next bend in the winding passageway more voices bounced off the walls, magnified ten fold by the close proximity. Remus' shoulders tensed and he glanced down at Padfoot before he rounded the final corner and entered into a large, poorly lit, room.
Its walls and floor, like the rest of the tunnel's, were constructed solidly out of dirt and clay. Eight or nine oil lamps hung in iron brackets on the earthy walls, casting flickering shadows across some thirty people and a long, decrepit, wooden table. The voices ceased abruptly as Remus and his canine companion crossed the length of the room.
At his ease Remus avoided their accusing stares and whispers and rested his weight against the far wall, golden eyes gazing back at them coolly, silently challenging. The giant, shaggy dog sat awkwardly at his feet, scarlet tongue lolling and sterling eyes sweeping to take in all of the occupants gathered in the room.
What the...What the hell's going on here? Padfoot mused and laid down on the ground, head resting on his forepaws and suddenly feeling extremely uncomfortable as the crowds' eyes averted to him. Big mistake. This sudden movement brought the children's attention back to the big puppy.
They were all over him in a second, the noise restored completely and he could do little next to noting but attempt to roll away from them. It didn't help when one was outnumbered thirteen to one. He tried fighting them off to the best of his ability, but when his most vicious growl only resulted in a small girl grinning and baring her own teeth in turn, Padfoot sighed and gave it up as one battle he wouldn't be winning anytime soon. He slumped in defeat and let the little monsters tug ruthlessly on his ears.
The conversation started back up until it swelled in volume to a roar again. Padfoot sighed and wondered who all the people were and what they were doing in the middle of a deserted forest, and underground at that.
Either they're all family or a gang of thieves...but even if they are, why are they underground? Oh great, I probably just stumbled upon a goldmine of wanted, highly dangerous criminals. That's just my luck. He thought.
A sudden eerie stillness cut his train of thought off. Padfoot looked around and searched for the source of the silence and for the reason that the brats scrambled away from him and pressed against the walls. The cause seemed to be in the form of a brutal looking, clumsily shaven man that prowled more than walked to the head of the table and seated himself. The others quickly followed suit, equally as quiet.
Padfoot slunk under the table and went to sit at Remus' feet. He nudged at the pickpocket's thigh with his nose and whimpered for a piece of their dinner. Remus' head tilted down and, when his eyes locked onto a happily panting Padfoot, his radiant eyes widened.
He shot a glance to the man next to him at the head of the table. An array of food appeared form the confines of the occupants' clothing. Rolls cart wheeled across the table, chicken legs laid on chipped plates, bottles of root beer set in the center, all in various degrees of fullness, bags of chips, apples, and many other varieties of food were piled onto the table.
It was then that the dog's stomach decided to give a hungry lurch and he pawed again at Remus' knee, hoping to get a bite of their feast.
Remus' hand swatted at his muzzle and Padfoot sulked on down the table, trying to find someone that'd surely take pity on a poor, starving canine like himself. He stopped at the chair next to Remus' and pawed at its occupant's legs instead. The dog yelped and skidded out from under the table when the owner of the legs lashed out and kicked him hard in the ribs.
All the eyes in the room were once again on the black dog that was nursing his injured side. Slowly, painfully slowly, Remus rose form his chair and edged toward the door, head low and hands curling and uncurling into fists. He was almost at the door when a rusty voice made him stop in his tracks.
"Who brought in the mutt?" silence answered the question and Padfoot's head snapped up.
God, he was getting sick of being called a mutt.
I'll have you know that I'm a pureblood, thank-you very much, he thought bitterly as he drew himself to his full height and puffed out his chest courageously.
Silver eyes took in the severe man's profile and all at once the name Greyback fell into place.
Holy shit, what have I gotten myself into? Padfoot contemplated as he backed up against the wall with the terrible images seen on the front page of the Daily Prophet flashing in his mind's eye.
Fenrir Greyback, the most savage and loathsome werewolf known to date, and he was in the same room with him. The dog's eyes swept nervously over every one of the weary faces, realization slowly creeping into the very marrow of his bones and chilling him form the inside out.
He was in a den of werewolves with a full moon that was a few days off. Padfoot wheeled around and made a blind dash for the door. His feet had barley carried him three paces when he was hoisted off the ground by the scruff of his neck.
The Animagus yelped and thrashed helplessly in the air, fearing if this man had the strength to lift a hundred sixty pound dog with one hand then what else he could possibly do.
This is the end, he thought, closing his eyes as his tail tucked itself between his legs. I'm done, I'm finished. I'll never get to see James again, or tell my parents how much I fucking hate them. I'll never sit in another detention with MickyG again or steel food from the kitchens that I'm technically not supposed to know about. I'll never be able to tell Colewood to start acting like a girl ever again. Good bye cruel, cruel world.
A small voice broke though his final musings and the death grip on the back of his neck subsided until he fell to the floor.
"'Moke brought da puppy home."
Padfoot picked himself up and shook the dirt form his ebony coat, cursing his luck of not being able to land on his four feet like his feline counterparts. There was an almighty roar of noise as chairs went flying and the table over turned.
The disgruntled dog just managed to duck out of the way before the corner of the shabby table collided with his head. He slunk into the shadows in the far corner and watched as the surrounding chaos unfolded before him.
All the werewolves flooded toward the door, all wanting to be the first one out. A wild eyed Greyback caught Remus by the wrist and threw him against the wall. Remus cried out imperceptibly and latched his hands around his attacker's shoulders. His fingernails dug into the flesh and left half moon craters filling with blood in their wake. A little boy broke away form the dwindling crowd and started clawing his way up Greyback's leg, screaming at the top of his lungs.
"Leave Smoke alone, you'll kill 'em!"
Greyback shook him off easily as though he were a leaf and backhanded him. The dirty blond haired boy fell to the floor with a strangled scream and that's when all true hell broke out.
Padfoot's sterling eyes were not fast enough to catch the blur that was Remus and Greyback tumbling together to the floor in a tangle of limbs. It didn't take long for their fight to subside. The younger of the two men was shoved face first into the dirt. They fought against one another and the dog's eye caught the glint of a pocket knife as the pickpocket withdrew it from his back pocket.
Someone cleared their throat stridently form the doorway and their to the death battle evaporated.
His head whipped around to see just what had caused the two werewolves to stop quarreling. He felt his jaw drop when he saw the last person on Earth that he'd expected to see in the middle of a werewolves' den. Standing in the doorway, arms crossed across her chest, legs clad in a pair of hip hugging jeans, a short forest green tee shirt, and two toned hair tied back in a low pony tail was none other then one Amelia Colewood.
The very Amelia Colewood who had become like the sister he'd never had. The same Amelia Colewood, who had become a best friend to him over the past seven years that they had shared the house of Gryffindor. Amelia Colewood, Hogwarts' resident tomboy, the one who completely insisted to be addressed by her last name at all times, one of his best friends, and James' cousin, was the very last person he had expected to see standing in the shadow pained doorway.
As they got to their feet, sharp canines bared, her chocolate brown eyes flickered over to him. Slowly, her eyebrow rose as she pivoted to face the duo again.
"A dog? What's a dog doing in here?" she asked and shook her head. "You're a wolf Fenrir, I never pictured you as a dog person."
"I'm not," he snarled, shooting an accusing glare at Remus. Remus matched him with a lethal, death glare of his own. "But 'Moke just had to bring da puppy home!" he shouted, imitating the little girl who had broke the news the first time around.
Colewood uncrossed her arms and walked across the room at her leisure, coming to a halt inches in front of Remus.
"Well, well, well, Smoke," her forefinger brushed along the underside of his chin. "Aren't you a good lad? Now why can't you learn form Smoke, Fenrir?" she asked devilishly, turning on her heel to smirk at him. "You could learn a lot from him, he's such a good dog. Maybe if you ask real nice he'll give you some lessons."
"What are you doing here?" Remus asked breathlessly. Colewood shrugged and withdrew her hand.
"I managed to sneak out of the castle for a bit and it really wasn't that hard to find you," her eyes rolled heaven ward. "All one needs to do is follow the sounds of outraged voices."
"I-" he started, but she over rode him with a heightened volume.
"Now boys, what's all the fuss about this time?"
"That mutt," Greyback growled, jerking his head toward the still too shocked to move dog.
"Oh, please, more like that's just an excuse," Remus muttered and Greyback was on him again in a second.
With a yell Colewood threw herself between the two of them and shoved them apart.
"Can't you finish this later?" she hissed. "I've only got a few hours and I'd rather not waste it by playing mediator for your little wrestling match."
Greyback whirled away and stormed toward the door, mouth working furiously, but no words issued forward, hands clenched into fists, and his face contorted with hardly controlled fury.
"Later," he snarled, pausing in the arch like doorway. "We'll finish this later." He turned around, but turned one last time as if having a second thought. "And get that brute out of here."
They watched him leave in tense silence and Remus let out a long breath when the last hint of thundering footsteps faded.
"You really shouldn't fight with him," Colewood said softly, resting a hand on his shoulder as he slumped against the wall and sluggishly slid down in.
"No shit, but what other choice do I have? If you have one, let me know. I'm open to all suggestions," her fingers danced across his forehead and they sighed in unison.
"I'm fresh out of brilliant plans at the moment, but I've got one for you to try. Very low cost too."
"Yeah?"
"How about not upsetting him for once?"
He grinned sheepishly and bowed his head as her light touches vanished. "Never heard of it."
"Look, I know it's hard. Just-"
"Colewood," a gravely voice called out lowly, the hallway walls carrying the name to their ears.
"Just wait one Goddamn minute!" she yelled irritably over her shoulder. Then she turned to face him one last time. "Just be careful, yeah?"
"I've been doing this all my life, I think I can take care of myself funnily enough."
"You're a very good actor then."
He flicked her off casually, which she returned with a little more vigor.
"You'd best get going, don't want to keep him waiting. You haven't seen anything close to scary unless you've seen a wolf deprived of having someone in their bed."
"Wolves use beds?"
"Haven't you ever heard of little red ridding hood?"
"Smart ass."
"Bitch."
"Bastard."
"Mother-"
"Colewood."
There was a slight pause in their conversation.
"Well, that's interesting," Remus remarked with a flat tone.
"What?"
"Never pictured you as the mothering type."
"Shut it, 'Moke," Colewood punched him in the shoulder, grinned apologetically, mock saluted him and then disappeared into the shadow blanketed hallway were Greyback was waiting for her.
Remus snorted and wondered how one seventeen-year-old girl could control the most feared werewolf of the day when not even a few hundred Auros could. He didn't mind, not by a long shot. He liked what her presence did. At least he could be ensured one night without the threat of a pissed off alpha werewolf looming over his head constantly. He waited until their bickering voices subsided into noting before he too took his leave.
Worse then siblings, those two are, Remus thought as he started for the archway.
"C'mon you," he mumbled to the dog that sat dumbstruck and gazing at the archway with glazed over eyes.
No, no, no, no, no! This is not happening! My best friend is not corresponding with a pack of werewolves! She's not…having any relations with…that…that… Padfoot couldn't even contemplate the thought so he let it hang, open ended in the air.
"Great, not only am I stuck with a dog, but I'm stuck with a dumb dog," Remus sighed after noticing Padfoot's glaze eyed expression.
Padfoot shook himself mentally and glared at his offender. It wasn't his fault that he was shell shocked upon finding out that his fellow Gryffindor was having connections with a bunch of bloodthirsty beasts and therefore seemed a bit out of focus. He huffed and trotted out the door, his head and tail held haughtily high. Behind him his follower rolled his eyes towards the ceiling, but followed suit nonetheless.
They came to a fork in the tunnel and Padfoot hesitated before turning right.
"This way," an amused voice said behind him and he wheeled around and darted in front of Remus again.
He was very determined to stay at the head of their duo. Remus turned again, this time into a smaller, enclosed den. It was dark, unnaturally so and the Animagus froze. A lone oil lamp blazed to life and his sterling eyes took a second to adjust to the sudden light.
"Well," Remus turned to face his canine guest as the dog's gaze flew around the small den that held scarcely more then a mound of blankets in an array of patterns, a black backpack, a worn edged desk and the same dirt walls and floor that were sported throughout the rest of the cavern.
Remus spread his arms wide and sighed. "Welcome to my life."
-
