Chapter 7

August 1, 1982, The Hog's Head Inn

He was dreaming an old dream.

It was a dream of moonlight and blood, of fear and pain.

In the dream, he was still a boy. Not the man he had become, nor the wolf that howled at the full moon, but the boy that he used to be.

He always dreamt of the same night, the night when that boy had died.

As it had happened in life, he dreamt of a child's bedroom and a window creaking sharply as it was forced open. He dreamt of slow, purposeful footsteps, each of them echoing closer and closer. He dreamt of the low, beastly growl that had made him wet the bed and the cruel chortle that had followed. He dreamt of the way his bed had sunken when the man had climbed on top of him, of the malicious glint in the pair of blue eyes that had stared coldly down at him. He dreamt of the grinning mouth full of fangs and the big, strong, calloused hand that had pressed into his mouth and nose, choking him and taking away any chance for him to cry out for his parents. He dreamt of the way he smelled as he had leaned his huge body over him until their foreheads had almost touched; earth and sweat, and something else that he hadn't recognized but had learned later what that coppery scent meant. Blood.

He dreamt of his words, memorized as clearly as if it had all happened yesterday.

"Yes," the man had rasped, taking a sniff at his hair and neck. "You'll do nicely. I'm gonna teach your fool of a father a lesson."

He dreamt of the moonlight slowly spilling into the bedroom like a silvery tide, pouring over the figure of the man hunched over him. He dreamt how the man had turned into a monster then, his body contorting and bulging in short, violent bursts beneath his dirt-covered clothes, his skin turning into a coarse, hairy hide, his face no longer human but the scarred muzzle of a wolf-like creature. Only his eyes had remained the same, blue and pitiless.

He dreamt of the bite too, though sometimes he awoke panting and trembling before it would come to it. This night was not as merciful. He felt every stab of the pain and the terror as the fangs dug into his forearm. He was thrashing, pinned under the massive weight. Somehow he managed to pull his face out from under the hairy half-hand, half-paw that was silencing him and he screamed. Merlin, how he had screamed... And then his father had rushed into the bedroom, wand in hand, bare-chested, his hazel eyes wide with horror.

"REMUS!" His father had roared in anguish before showering the monster with curses and battle hexes as it dove into the moonlight through the gaping window.

"Remus!" He heard the voice again. It was strange, but this time it did not sound very mich like Lyall Lupin. It sounded gruffer and... older?

Then he felt a hand shaking him, and the wolf snarled in anger and terror.

Remus Lupin snapped his eyes open and launched himself at the intruder, his fists swinging madly in the darkness, trying to rend and claw. He glimpsed strands of long white hair waving around a wrinkled, craggy face as both of them stumbled back in a heap of tangled limbs, bedsheets and animalistic growls.

A fist connected with his jaw, sending him to the hard, wooden floor.

"Bloody Hell!" a panting voice exclaimed. "What were you dreaming of, boy?!"

Remus took a deep breath, rational thought slowly dawning inside his spinning mind. The inn, I'm at the inn. It was just a dream. Not that it mattered to the wolf. He could feel it, coiled inside, tense and desperate to lash out against the threat. There's no threat. Greyback is dead. I killed him. I killed him. I killed him. And then he could almost feel the meaning behind the inward growl that rumbled in his bones. Want to kill him again. Foe. Threat. Killed our dog brother. Hate. Must kill him again.

He took a deep breath, forcing the wolf down into the dark depths of his subconsciousness. The full moon was coming in a few days. He always dreamt that old dream when it drew near.

Still on the floor, Remus blinked, his eyes adjusting to the dark room. He sat up, his back touching the bed.

"You better now?"

Lupin looked up at Aberforth. The old man was staring almost accusingly at him, shaking lightly the hand with which he had felled him. Remus' stomach sunk. I could have killed him.

"Aberforth," Remus said, "I'm so sorry. It's just... you startled me."

The old man snorted loudly. "I'll say. If that's you startled, then I don't fancy seeing you in panic."

Remus stared at him, then he leaned his head back on the bed and chuckled quietly. "What are you doing here?" he asked.

Aberforth strode to the chair where Remus had left his clothes, picked up his trousers and threw them at the werewolf.

"Put some pants on, Lupin," the old man said in a wry voice. As Remus was doing so, the innkeeper turned to the fireplace and lit it with a snap of his gnarled fingers. Warm light filled the room, chasing the shadows away. "Lily's Patronus came by. That glowing doe scared me out of my bloody wits, it did. She says she needs you to come to her house, as quick as possible."

Worry gripped Remus' heart. "Is she alright?" he blurted out, frantically pulling a shirt over his torso. "What's happened? Is Harry…"

"Listen, boy," Aberforth interrupted him and sighed as he threw some Floo powder into the flickering flames. "We've wasted enough minutes already. If the lady says she needs you quick, quick you go. Ask her what's going on yourself. The doe didn't fancy explaining much to me anyway." The green glow of the enchanted fire made Aberforth's face seem even more rugged and harder than usual. "Come on, mate," he gestured to the fireplace.

Remus nodded and stepped into the flames, bending his back in order to enter into the inn's small, stony fireplace.


Nearly an hour later everyone had gathered in Lily's house. It had taken some time for Remus to catch up on what had happened as he had wadded through his nightmare. Someone had broken into Malfoy Manor, wrecking Narcissa's bedchamber and vanishing before she could confront them. Lily had needed Remus to watch over Harry as she and the Auror had hurried to the Manor to help Narcissa. He glanced at the blonde witch. She was sitting on the couch, her son sleeping nestled in her arms and her sister Andromeda rubbing her shoulders comfortingly. Andromeda's husband had taken their daughter home. As far as Remus understood, the child had been in the Manor at the time when the break-in had happened. Narcissa herself had not said much, looking uncharacteristically dejected and leaving most of the talking to Lily. Remus supposed it was normal for her to be shaken and scared. A lone woman with a baby and a little girl, everyone would have been scared. Then the wolf snarled inside his mind, reminding him that Narcissa was more than just a woman. Padfoot's pack. His blood. Protect. Must find the attacker. Must kill. He shook his head, trying to wrestle the beast down. The wolf cared little for human inhibitions and the labyrinthine web of their relationships. To it, the fact that there had never been any love lost between Padfoot and his family was irrelevant. To it, the fact that a less than a year ago, Narcissa had been on the side of their enemies, meant nothing. To it, she was of Padfoot's blood and it wanted to protect her… preferably, by ripping the mysterious assailant apart. Then the wolf would have probably ripped Narcissa apart too, because that was the only thing it truly wanted – to kill, indiscriminately and savagely. He pinched the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes for a brief second. Thank Merlin I still have some of that Wolfsbane potion I bought in Spain. The concoction was difficult to brew and so costly that Lupin had exhausted nearly all his savings for a few months worth of supply. It will have to do until September. When Lily had written to him during his travels in Europe to tell him how she had accepted Dumbledore's proposition to start teaching Potions in Hogwarts, she had promised that she had gotten the Headmaster's leave to brew the potion for him every month. Remus did not know how he would ever be able to repay that kindness. He shoved a hand in his pocket, palming the pack of cigarettes. Merlin, I need a smoke.

"Do we suspect who it might have been?" he asked out loud, mostly to distract himself from his own thoughts.

He saw Lily exchanging a quick glance with the Auror that was standing aside from their group. What is that about? The man shrugged, and Lily said, "I think the news have not gotten out yet. Sev came by today," she hesitated for a moment, "There was a breakout in Azkaban."

"In Az…" Andromeda sounded genuinely shocked. "Who has escaped?"

"A band of Death Eaters," Lily answered, "Sev did not tell me any names. Care to share them with us, Mr. Robards?" she looked at the Auror.

The man grimaced. "The boss won't like it," he warned.

Lily scowled at him. "The boss," she put a heavy emphasis on the word, "will answer to me if any harm comes to my friends because you're all too busy playing self-important coppers."

The Auror's bearded jaw clenched as he glared at Lily.

"Fine," he said, "The ones that didn't die in the chaos and were confirmed as disappeared are Antonin Dolohov, Augustus Rookwood, Evan Rosier, Cantankerus Nott II, Amantia Selwyn, Thorfin Rowle and Peter Pettigrew. You see any of them in your house, Ma'am?" he asked, turning his eyes to Narcissa.

Absently, Remus noticed the unspoken words in the Auror's voice. Lucius Malfoy's involvement with the cause of You-Know-Who and the Death Eaters had not been exactly a secret in the Ministry of Magic. After the war Narcissa had not been prosecuted for any suspected affiliation with her late husband's crimes, but in large part that was thanks to the insistence of Dumbledore and Lily – otherwise not even her vast fortune would have been able to buy her a reprieve.

But in reality the only thing Remus really heard when the Auror listed the escaped prisoners was Wormtail's name. Suddenly his vision swam and he had to stand up in order to clear his head. All eyes turned to him. Only Lily's reflected a turmoil and understanding similar to what he had felt.

"Peter Pettigrew," Remus stared intently at the fair-haired Auror. "Are you sure it's Peter Pettigrew?"

"That's what the Warden's register said," the man shrugged. "Why? He a big shot?"

"No, he..." Remus hesitated.

"He's the one who got my husband killed," Lily said softly, her gaze growing distant.

The Auror blinked slowly. "Oh..." he muttered and didn't speak again, avoiding everyone's eyes.

I have to get out of here, Remus swallowed heavily. I need a smoke.

I need a kill, the wolf growled silently.

"I'll be... uh, in the yard," he murmured lamely and half-walked, half-stumbled out into the garden through the large French doors.

He patted the pockets of his trousers, searching for his lighter, as his gaze wandered up, towards the night sky. Bright constellations glimmered in the blackness, broken apart here and there by grey clouds. Hogsmeade was remote enough for its sky not to be besmirched by the fumes and the light pollution of the large muggle cities. But Remus' eyes always ignored the stars, forever searching for the moon. It's almost full, he thought and then almost groaned in frustration when he realized that in the commotion earlier he had forgotten his lighter in the inn.

Then a small, pale hand appeared in front of his face and snapped its delicate fingers, producing a small flame that momentarily lit the cigarette that was wobbling lightly between his lips.

As Remus breathed the warm smoke in, he turned sideways and, to his surprise, saw Narcissa.

She studied him with a pensive expression on her face. Remus couldn't deny that she looked lovely under the moonlight. She has the face of a veela, he thought, but the look in her eyes is pure Padfoot. He wondered if either of the Blacks had ever noticed this resemblance. Remus doubted it.

"This is a bad habit, Mr. Lupin," she told him, raising an eyebrow at the cigarette in his mouth.

He turned his head sideways and exhaled the smoke so a gust of wind wouldn't blow it in her face.

"Don't worry about me, Mrs. Malfoy," he said, then hesitated before he asked, "How are you?"

She shrugged, looking up at the moon as Remus had did a moment ago. "I've been better," Narcissa fixed him with her grey eyes. "But I've been worse too."

"I suppose that's true, isn't it?"

They were silent for a few moments as Remus smoked, the only sounds in the summer night his almost rhythmic puffing and the music of countless crickets.

"It wasn't them," Narcissa said suddenly. Remus turned to look at her, awaiting for the blonde witch to say more. "The prisoners Lily spoke of," she clarified. "It's all they talk about inside... but it wasn't them."

"What makes you think so?"

"Mr. Lupin, if the inner circle had targeted me as a reprisal, I wouldn't have been here, speaking with you tonight." Remus knew what she meant. Death Eater attacks had been devastating during the war, wiping out whole families with wanton brutality and callousness. Even now, almost a year later, he still remembered the deaths of the whole Bones family, and the murder of the Prewett brothers. For a fleeting second, he imagined the sickly glow of the Dark Mark hovering in the sky above Malfoy Manor, the bodies of Narcissa and her son left inside the huge mansion. The thought made him frown and the wolf snarled angrily at it. Padfoot's blood. "Whoever broke into my home, was not after me or Draco."

"I think you're right," Remus admitted.

Narcissa seemed to hesitate before she asked, "The man you spoke of, Pettigrew. Was he a friend of yours?"

Remus breathed out a last puff of bluish smoke before he threw the butt in the grass.

"Yeah," he said. "Me, and James and your cousin, we were all his friends. As it turned out, he wasn't a friend of ours."

Malfoy shrugged. "Don't underestimate the Dark Lord's ability to cow people into serving him, Mr. Lupin. I doubt your friend had much of a choice."

Remus took a deep breath. He didn't want to talk about Wormtail. That wound still stung. Prongs and Padfoot are gone. You and Wormtail are the only ones left. Somehow, during his journey abroad, Remus had managed to lock the thoughts of Peter away in his mind. Those who went to Azkaban were easily forgotten. Now, though...

Now Wormtail couldn't be ignored anymore.

"You know, Mrs. Malfoy," he said slowly, "You should stop calling me Mr. Lupin."

She eyed him critically. "Should I call you Moony instead?"

He ignored the barb, as well as the irritated gnarl of the wolf. "Remus would do just fine."

"Fine, Remus," she shrugged. "So will Narcissa."

"Fair enough, Narcissa."

They fell silent again as Lupin drew another smoke from his pack.

"Would you?" he asked. "I've never been very good with wandless magic." Narcissa huffed and lit the cigarette for him. "Where will you stay tonight?" he asked, exhaling a cloud of smoke into the night.

"What do you care?" Narcissa snapped at him, raising a pale eyebrow, before giving him a strange, long look, "Is this... Is this about Sirius?"

"Sirius?"

"Don't play dumb, Remus. It doesn't suit you," Narcissa rolled her grey eyes. "You know we hated each other. So don't play the shining knight either."

Remus sighed. Apparently, she could be every bit as difficult as Padfoot had been during his darker moods.

"I know you did," he said carefully, trying not to provoke more of the blonde's ire. The last thing he wanted was to spark an argument and have the others storm into the yard wondering what was going on. "He never tried to hide from us the fact that he didn't get along with his family." He was quite proud of that, actually. "But – and you're probably going to hate hearing this – I know you've changed for the better, Narcissa. I believe that he would have seen that." He would have, and he also would have rather had his teeth pulled out than admit it. He grimaced, "Listen... Whether you two liked each other or not, you're still my best friend's cousin. And you've been a good friend to Lily. And I've seen you with Harry, you care about him."

Narcissa glowered at him, then took a deep breath and her shoulders sagged. "I am afraid that you'll have to light your next smoke yourself, Mr. Lupin," she said quietly. "If it will make you sleep easier, I'll be staying here tonight. Good night."

With that she turned and left, stepping back into Lily's house. Remus finished his smoke, lost in thoughts. He had a mind to check on Narcissa when she returned to the Manor. The blonde witch was probably going to bite his bloody head off... but it didn't feel right to leave her to fend for herself, not now, with the fugitive Death Eaters on the run. Padfoot's blood, the wolf rumbled in agreement. Protect.

But before he was going to do that, he had other business he needed to take care of come the morning.


Next morning, as Remus was walking towards his destination, he noticed that news of the escaped Death Eaters had already spread even here, in the Wizardry Quarter of Ipswich. Wanted posters adorned with the faces of the convicts were staring at him from brick walls and wooden sign boards alike. Ipswich was a very old town, but its wizarding population was not that great in number, resembling more a close-knit community than the busy throngs of strangers in places like London or Manchester. Which means that by noon absolutely everyone here will know about her son.

He stopped to light his cigarette (this time blissfully armed with his lighter) before a row of posters. He studied the Death Eaters as he smoked. The six that he didn't know in person had, in one way or another, the looks he expected from people like them, Dolohov with his serious, twisted face, Rookwood pockmarked and smirking almost insolently as he held up the sign that identified his prison number, Selwyn throwing her hair back and snarling angrily at the camera, trying to get out of the restrains she was shackled with, Rosier was handsome, young, self-assured and haughty even in the striped rags he had been forced to wear, the elderly Nott trying to mask his unease with a sneer, Rowle, with eyes that glinted cruelly, resembled a savage, ancient pillager thanks to the unkempt mane and his long beard... and then there was Wormtail. He was nothing like them, trembling and seeming driven near tears by pure terror. What was he thinking? Remus wondered suddenly. These people are going to kill him the first chance they get. If they hadn't already. He could almost feel the wolf moving underneath his skin at that thought. The beast in him had long ago marked Wormtail for death because of Prongs' murder, and the full moon was coming. Perhaps in these last few days of the week, Remus needed to increase the dose of the Wolfsbane potion he drank, just to be sure.

Remus sighed. It wouldn't do to dally. Gazing at the sunrise above the waterfront and listening to the cries of the gulls in the sky, he estimated that he probably wouldn't have a lot of time before she left for work.

Someone had nailed a poster with Wormtail's face on her door. Remus stared at it for a second before he tore it down and crumpled it in his hands. Then he knocked.

He heard faint footsteps and then a voice asked, "Who is it?"

"It's Remus, Margaret. Remus Lupin."

He thought he heard a soft gasp and then a short woman with mousy brown hair opened the door. Her eyes widened at the sight of him.

"Hello, Margaret," Remus said softly, bowing his head lightly.

"R-Remus?" her voice sounded almost choked.

"May I come in?"

Margaret Pettigrew nodded and welcomed him in.

She looked so much older than the last time he had seen her. There were dark circles beneath her eyes, and her face was more lined than he remembered. The house somehow looked shabbier too, as if threatening to fall into a state of disrepair. Remus felt a sudden stab of new anger towards Wormtail. His former friend's betrayal had obviously taken its toll on this woman too. His own mother.

"Would you like some tea or...?" she asked, her body language betraying her anxiety.

"I don't want to impose myself or take too much of your time, Margaret," Remus shook his head. "I just wanted to talk to you for a bit. I'm sure you have to leave for work soon."

Wormtail's mother blinked and looked at him with an odd expression. "Remus, I..." she hesitated, "I lost my job four months ago. I don't have to go anywhere today," the tone of her voice suggested that she didn't venture outside the house very often. "Please, you're a guest and you were Peter's f..."

She couldn't finish the sentence and looked away. If you're alive, Wormtail, I hope you're ashamed of yourself, wherever you are, Remus thought darkly.

Slowly, almost tentatively Lupin reached a hand and gently squeezed Margaret's bony shoulder. Remus himself had never been a physically strong man, Greyback's curse had robbed him of his good health and his ability to sleep peacefully long ago, but even so Mrs. Pettigrew felt almost fragile to the touch.

"I would love a cup of tea, Margaret," he said, trying to hide the pity in his voice.

She seemed pleased and led him to the living room, only to return shortly with a tray that held an old, cracked teapot, a little sugar and milk, and two cups.

"How are you, Remus?" she asked him when she sat down next to him.

She's trying to stall the conversation. Lupin sighed inwardly. He didn't have a right to blame her for that. Merlin alone knew how he would have reacted in Margaret's place.

So he took a small sip of tea and said, "I'm well," he shrugged, "I returned to Britain quite recently, actually. I was in Europe for a while."

"Really? What did you do there?"

"Traveling. Trying to put my mind at rest after... you know," he finished softly.

"After the war," Mrs. Pettigrew nodded, "The Prophet said you fought at Hogwarts in November. I... I'm glad you weren't hurt, Remus."

He sighed. "Margaret, look..."

"You're here about Peter, aren't you?" her voice sounded sad and hopeless.

Remus let his cup down on the tea table. "Margaret, please, listen to me," he said carefully, "I fear he's in trouble, and not only because the Ministry is searching for him. The people he escaped with... they're dangerous."

The woman forced down a sob and averted her eyes from Lupin's. His chest felt constricted, looking at her.

"I don't know anything, Remus," she whispered. "He's not here. I... I haven't heard from him. I don't even know if he's... he's..."

And then she was crying, sobbing silently, a mother crushed by worry about her son. Remus couldn't take it. He reached and embraced her, letting her weep on his shoulder.

"Did he really do it, Remus?" Margaret hiccuped in his arms. "I... I k-know everyone says he did, but... Did he really betray James?"

Remus closed his eyes, cursing himself and Wormtail for what he had to say to this woman.

"He was the secret keeper, Margaret," he answered simply, unwilling to elaborate further.

She understood his meaning because she started crying harder.

"Why did he do it? Why?"

"I don't know," he said, rubbing her back and shoulders, fruitlessly trying to offer whatever comfort he could.

Margaret lifted her head off his shoulder and looked up at him, tears streaking down her hollow cheeks.

"He loved you, Remus. You were his only friends."

"I know, Margaret, I know." And we would have died for him. But was it fair to ask him to die for us in turn?

His heart felt frayed and raw. Looking at Margaret, Remus had no doubt that she was telling the truth. She didn't know where her son was, that much was clear. And then a thought occurred to him.

"Margaret," Remus was loathe to cause further discomfort to her, but he had to ask. "I know my question is going to be strange, but... have you noticed any rats in your house?"

She blinked at him, wiping at her eyes. "Rats?" she sounded confused and slightly hurt. "R-Remus, I know my home has seen better days, b..."

"No, Margaret, no. You misunderstand," Remus took her small hands and squeezed them lightly to take away the perceived sting of his words. "I... You see, we never told anyone about it. It was our secret, only for the four of us. As children we swore never to reveal it as long as we lived." And that was true... but Prongs and Padfoot were already dead, and she needed to know about Wormtail. "We, the four of us, we're Animagi."

"Animagi?" Margaret sounded lost.

"Yes," Remus nodded, "James could turn into a stag, Sirius – a dog, and Peter, well, Peter was..."

"A rat."

"Yes. He could transform into a rat."

"And you, Remus?"

"A wolf," he said with a blank expression.

"Oh Merlin..." Margaret took a deep breath. "So that's what those nicknames meant? The whole time?" Remus nodded, just as she shook her head. "I'm sorry, but I don't believe I have ever seen a rat in this house. Peter's not here, Remus."

Remus lowered his head. "It's alright, Margaret, but I had to ask. I'm so sorry for everything."

Then a sudden, loud knocking thundered through Margaret's home. Intruders. Outside. The wolf growled angrily.

"Wh-who is it?" Margaret asked as she got up and stepped towards the door.

"Auror Office. Open up." A deep voice boomed.

Oh, Merlin, not now... Remus knew that voice all too well.

"Margaret, stay behind me," he said as he moved to stand in front of her and open the door. "I'll take care of this."

He opened the door.

Before him stood Severus Snape, flanked by two Aurors. One was a tall, black-skinned woman, the other – a man with dark hair and a face so cleanly shaven that his cheeks glistened with a greyish hue. The three of them looked menacing in their black leather uniforms and massive longcoats.

Snape's black eyes narrowed when he saw Remus.

"Well, well, look who is here," he said coldly. "Move aside, Lupin. At once."

With that he stepped into the house, forcing his way past Remus' shoulder and focusing his gaze on Margaret. Snape reached into his coat and drew a golden rosette with the sigil of the Ministry.

"Severus Snape, Auror Office," he said to her and put his badge away. "Margaret Pettigrew, I presume?"

"Y-yes? What is this? Has s-something happened with Peter?" She sounded upset, already on the verge of tears once more.

"I don't know. We were hoping you could tell us," he turned to the black Auror. "Search the house. Leave nothing unchecked."

She nodded and rushed past Remus and Margaret, her boots thumping heavily on the floor.

"Severus, listen to me," Remus raised his hands, trying to reason with the man. One look at those angry black eyes, and he knew it was a lost cause. He hates Wormtail. He won't listen. "She doesn't know anything. I just spoke with her about Peter. He's not here."

Snape raised a black eyebrow. "Oh, so you're a private investigator now, is that the way of it, Lupin?" He pursed his lips and leaned closer to Remus. "Stay out of my way," he warned. "This whole mess is bad enough as it is with one of you Marauders involved."

"The house is clean, boss," the voice of the black Auror made Remus turn his head as she appeared from the kitchen.

"Very well," Snape nodded and for a moment Remus thought that this was going to be the end of the whole unpleasantness. He was wrong as Snape then said, "Take her in, John. We'll question her in the afternoon."

Remus felt Margaret clutching at the sleeve of his shirt in fright. "What?!" He couldn't believe his ears. "Severus, what do you think you're doing? Margaret doesn't know anything! Hey! Don't touch her!" Remus raised a warning finger towards the dark-haired Auror who had stepped towards Wormtail's mother.

And then Snape's face was so close that their noses almost touched. "I told you to stay out of my way, Lupin," he bit out the words through clenched teeth.

Remus did not back down. "Is that how you conduct your investigations, Severus?" He scowled at Snape. He had never approved of the way Prongs and Padfoot used to pick on him during their childhood... but in that moment he had to use all his willpower to force himself not to punch the bitter son of a bitch in the face. "By bullying scared women? I wonder what would Lily think if she saw you right now," Remus shook his head. "And to think she swears up and down how much you've changed..."

Snape looked like he wanted to hit him with the Cruciatus. Then he took a deep breath and stepped away from Remus.

"Grow up, Lupin," he said icily. "Look at you, threatening to tattle on me. What are you, twelve?" His lips curled in disgust. "I have no intention of hurting your precious friend's mother, you stupid bastard. But I have a crisis on my hands here. Two days ago we were only one Death Eater short in order to finally end this whole nightmare. Today they are eight. I must make sure she hasn't been in touch with him."

"I told you she hasn't."

"And, oddly enough, I don't give a damn what you've told me," he nodded at the Auror at his side. "Go ahead, John. But don't be rough with her, she's not accused of anything. Yet. As to you," he looked back to Remus as the man grabbed Margaret by the arm and dragged her out of her own home, "If you ever try to meddle with my work again, well... you do know that Azkaban has a special security ward for homicidal halfbreeds and other similar creatures, don't you?"

Snape left the question hanging in the air as he turned and left. The echo of their footsteps and the thuds of Snape's cane on the floor were momentarily silenced by Margaret's faint voice as she called out Remus' name. Then he heard the sound of disapparation and he was suddenly alone in the old house.

Remus hung his head, outraged by the injustice of it all. Margaret did not deserve any of this.

"Where are you, Peter?" he muttered under his breath before he, too, left.