Despite the explosive arrival Remus had made his entrance with, he quickly found that the manor was generally a very quiet place that only hummed with ominous foreboding. The hum was omnipresent however, and you could hear it buzzing all the time, in every room. From what Remus had been able to gather, it seemed that many of the people living in the manor were undecided. He didn't blame them, the promises themselves were tempting. As to whether or not they'd be kept was the question that should be pondered, but as always that would be ignored by those who would cling desperately to the charismatic promises out of hope.
It was a large enough place so that you didn't run into people too badly and there were plenty of ways to excuse yourself unceremoniously from a room and not return. He noticed that this was often done when Hati or Skoll entered a room, though it was only with Skoll that he could understand why. He'd been in the manor for two weeks now, and could count on one hand the amount of times that Hati had spoken and one the same hand the times he seemed to pose any real threat. While he was an intimidating sight, nearly seven feet Remus would guess, he was otherwise a very quiet person. He followed Skoll like a shadow, and from what Remus could tell, he didn't engage in conversation with him either. So it was very surprising when he approached Remus one evening in the sitting room.
"Good evening, Hati," Remus said pleasantly, setting down his book. In the last two days alone he'd ploughed through three rather hefty books from Abbatia's extensive and impressive collection. It was a comforting thing and from sitting ubiquitously in some of the more trafficked areas of the manor he'd been able to adequately gather information to pass along to the Order.
Hati nodded and sat down across from him, turning his gaze to the fireplace, apparently entranced by the flames. Remus pretended to return to his book, presenting a non-threatening front, waiting for Hati to speak.
"You were a professor," Hati stated plainly into the flames. His speech was like a thick liquid, slow and the words flowed into each other gently. Hardly the voice of a tyrant, Remus thought.
"Yes, I taught at Hogwarts for a year."
Hati shifted uncomfortably, embarrassed about something. Remus put a sheaf of parchment to mark his page and set his book on the coffee table. He looked Hati on directly, making sure that he knew that he had his complete attention. This seemed to encourage him; Remus could see the words gathering like a pool of water. Hati fidgeted with the pockets of his sweater.
"I can't read," Hati admitted. Remus smiled gently.
"Would you like to learn?"
For the first time since he'd been there, Hati smiled and Remus saw a person instead of a shadow.
Preparing lessons again felt very agreeable to Remus, even if it wasn't for Defence Against the Dark Arts. In fact, he'd always found it very comfortable to prepare lessons for others, glad to offer himself as more then an extra wand. He'd always found a great satisfaction in teaching others, especially when they'd become legitimately interested in what they were learning. He'd made ends meet more then once with emergency tutoring lessons for homeschooled students.
He was caught a bit off guard with teaching a grown man something as basic as reading, particularly a grown mad who could, given the opportunity, snap him in half. He wasn't so much concerned with that so much as with Skoll however. He'd been told that they were brothers, and they looked as though they could be, but Abbatia mentioned that they weren't related in a technical sense. They'd been "adopted" by Fenrir, which explained Skoll's undying loyalty and Hati's undying fear.
Remus collected some parchment and began to layout a lesson plan for Hati, quickly consumed by the logistics of it and seeking out the materials necessary. Hati confessed that he could only read a few very basic words, but the willingness to learn proved his capacity to expand his expertise. This connection was obviously going to be for the benefit of the Order, but Remus felt genuinely concerned over Hati's illiteracy. Having an innate love for books him self, it was baffling that someone would actually repress someone's education. It only made sense when it came to control, but where was the sense in completely dominating someone's life?
Looking through Abbatia's well-lit, immaculately kept library gave a deep sense of comfort to Remus. He was glad to run his fingers along the spines of books that weren't chock full of dark spells and curses that made your ears erupt with deafening sound or your skin in boils and fanatic manifestos of pureblood lineage. This collection was friendly, and steeped in variety. On a whim he looked to see if Abbatia had any of the books that McInnis had written and sure enough he found several thick collections of short stories of with titles such as "Downing Street Gutters" and "Fifteen Wrights". He added Fifteen Wrights to his stack of book and decided to scoot out before he'd require a wheelbarrow.
Remus went back to the library several times to revise his choices for his lesson with Hati the next evening. He wasn't ever really certain until he did something, often over preparing, which he assured himself was a better way to go about it then going in without a clue. Asides from Sirius lurking around the grounds at Hogwarts the year that he'd taught there, that had been the most exhaustive routine to tend to. He set the sizeable stack of books on the dresser in his cramped quarters (plenty of reading to do, I see) and left the modified bomb shelter. As he stepped out, Violet was just leaving but stopped when she spotted him. She was wrestling for control over three large dogs.
"Help, please," she said breathlessly, thrusting out an arm holding to a thick black leash. Three handsome dogs were tumbling over each other, entangling the leashes in their excitement. He tried to ignore the nagging reorganization of the largest of the three and it's similarity to Sirius' Animagus shape. That was likely the one he'd seen during the last moon. He took the leash of the trim hunting hound that had gotten its leg caught up badly.
"Thank-you," Violet said, looking relieved.
"You're welcome," Remus said, untangling the dogs for her.
"They remind me of my parent's dogs, always all up and over each other. They want me to take care of them next weekend you know."
Remus eyed her suspiciously. The morning after the confrontation with Skoll, Remus had discovered that Violet delighted and prized herself as a compulsive liar. She was completely aware of what she was doing, McInnis told him, and that to her it was just story telling. Remus hadn't entirely believed McInnis for the first few days, but it was only a matter of time before the stories began to overlap and contradict each other. Yesterday, her mother was a souse chef in an Italian restaurant in Aberdeen. They happened to be having pasta for dinner. She took things from whatever environment happened to be present at the time to build stories, although sometimes you couldn't follow what in the surroundings had triggered the idea. He waited for the one about her father being a dog breeder to begin.
"I said no of course, I mean, what do they take me for? They're the bloody dog breeders. Me, I'm more of a cat person. Thought about being a vet for the longest time, even took a few courses in biology, but once I became a werewolf it just seemed strange. Can you imagine that? A werewolf veterinarian? Bloody James Herriot, bloody hell."
Remus listened loosely, keeping a firm hold at the hound as they headed down the drive way. He didn't mind Violet's litanies, something he seemed to have become impervious to through his exposure to James and Sirius during Hogwarts. They were more entertaining then anything if you allowed them to be, an unrestrained stream of consciousness. He wondered what would be produced if Violet tried her hand at writing. It'd either be a thousand pages of viciously contradictory verbiage or she'd surprise them all and bring forth a phenomenal piece of literature. Or maybe a viciously contradictory verbiage would be hailed as a phenomenal piece of literature anyways and maybe it would be.
"Do you like animals?" she said suddenly after her grossly exaggerated tale had come to an end.
"They're fair enough," Remus answered, doing his best to restrain the creature that threatened to bring him careening down the slick road.
"They're fair enough? What kind do you like?" she pressed. Remus wondered if she was incapable of proper conversation.
"I don't know. I like all sorts."
Violet groaned.
"I like Bowtruckles."
"There we go."
They walked along quietly, the dogs making strained noises as their throats pressed on their collars and they struggled to walk forwards. Remus didn't like their noises, and tried to look over the black dog. In the quick descending night that comes with winter however, he was forced to watch his feet to avoid falling. The pair of dogs that Violet had taken hold of seemed to have calmed, walking obediently with only the occasional horse play.
Suddenly, Remus felt himself falling backwards, as though an anchor had been thrown down behind him. Violet braced his fall, dropping down the leashes of the two dogs but there seemed to be no danger of them running away. They'd all sat down and were sniffing at the air, their heads going from to side to side.
"There's something wrong," Violet muttered, helping him up. Remus believed her, watching her body tense as the dogs and his own did. He slipped his hand into his pocket onto the handle of his wand. The wood seemed to radiate a reassuring heat and hummed in his palm.
"Hush, Maera," Violet hissed to the black dog, who had begun whimpering. The energetic hound he'd been clinging on to began to growl, upholding his loyalty even in fear. The other two dared several steps forward but could go no further.
"What animals are in the woods?" Remus asked evenly, trying to peer into the trees.
"Bears, birds, mice...maybe some wolves...there's a centaur tribe that comes through now and then. I've heard a Welsh Green came through one year..." Violet replied delicately. Remus wondered why it was that she didn't look as through she were ready to draw her own wand. Regarding her for a moment, he decided that she was doing the best to her abilities to help and wasn't currently in the temptation to lie. It couldn't be a non-magical beast; Remus noted as the agitation of the dogs grew, they should be used to that having lived with wizards. It wasn't anything mechanical either, remembering that there were Muggles nearby. That wouldn't put this sort of fear in them. He didn't know what that left though.
"Show yourself," Remus ventured, his voice sounding steely on his ears. The air had gone still and the dogs covered any sounds he might be able to pick up from either side of the road.
"We have to go," Violet said, beginning to tug on the dog's leashes. Remus nodded, and began to make efforts to help Violet with the dogs. It'd have been easy if one of the dogs hadn't started having a fit and begun trying to loose itself from its collar.
"Maera!" Violet cried out as the dog set itself free and went off running. Its dark fur was quickly consumed by the shadows and dark in the trees. It was clear that there'd be no finding it tonight. The remaining dogs began to howl after their mate. Violet stood a moment, trying to decide whether or not to go after the dog, but settled on scooping up one in her arms. She wavered as she began to walk up the icy drive, and Remus could hear her sniffling. It could have been the cold, but he was sure that she was crying.
With a last look into the trees where Maera had just disappeared, Remus sighed and followed after Violet, feeling the dog in his arms shiver and the snow melting and soaking them both.
Abbatia was pacing and Remus wanted to tell her to stop because it made him want to do it too. His foot flicked and he sat in the chair to resist the movement.
"You saw nothing?"
"No, there was no one."
"This is ridiculous, we know who we should be asking," Violet said angrily and began to leave the room.
"Violet, stop," Abbatia said sternly. Violet obliged, but only after shooting a dirty look at Abbatia. It really showed her age, Remus thought mildly.
"If anyone is to do that, it'll be me."
Violet's expression fell from a look of disdain quickly softened.
"It's probably some of Fenrir's lookouts. They've put us in quarantine before. Until we know what's happening, I don't want anyone to leave the grounds. Can you leave us a moment Violet?"
Violet nodded and slipped out of the study quietly, casting one last look between Abbatia and Remus. Remus could guess what Abbatia was intending to ask. He was glad that she stopped pacing and had settled herself behind her desk. While the setting reminded him much of seeing the headmaster, he could feel equal to Abbatia rather then a pupil. Even when he'd been teaching at Hogwarts, he'd never felt to be in such a position even with the other professors. Many of them had taught him during his attendance at the school.
"Is there anything that you haven't told me that might be important to our security? I don't want whatever that is, if there is anything, putting these people at risk. With Hati and Skoll we're doing badly enough without you bringing on more," she says wearily. He was comforted that it was without any hurtful accusation. Looking him straight in the eye, Remus is reminded of his escapade into memory obliteration and considered telling her. Would it compromise the Order?
He couldn't afford the honesty, he settled, no matter how much he felt that he could trust this woman.
"No, there's nothing. I can't think of anyone."
Disappointed, Abbatia nodded and settled into her chair.
Sirius came and made room for himself beside Remus, exhausted. Mostly he just ended up sitting on him, which would be fine once Remus could sort out his mug of tea and the paper.
More disappearances; it was the most dangerous times of their lives, and the paper still couldn't admit that these people were being murdered. Everyone knew of course that the missing people were in all likelihood killed by Voldemort's Death Eaters, but they still insisted on breeding some false hope. It wasn't right.
Remus set the paper down, and tried to shift Sirius enough so that he didn't feel as though he were being impaled in about four or five places by the metal on his belt. Everything about Sirius' attire seemed designed to inflict pain on whomever he came near. Or sat on.
"Hang on, quit squirming," Sirius groaned, shifting his hips upwards and undoing the belt. The record from the kitchen blared in indiscernible guitar thrashes and pounding drum kits. As the belt hit the floor, Remus wondered if that could be considered music too, seeing as it sounded so similar to the clattering defiling the honour of his gramophone.
"Did you check the charms?" Remus asked, the "missing" people from the paper still nagging at him.
"Of course," Sirius muttered sleepily, settling back into their beaten and threadbare couch. Since James and Lily had gone into hiding, they'd moved into their own flat. As with everyone who was capable of performing them, there were wards and charms and spells all culminating to some small pinnacle of hope that you weren't going to get attacked by Voldemort's followers and if you did, you'd have enough time to get yourself and anyone you cared about out in time. Thinking about it made his skin crawl. Or maybe it was the music or how it played like a soundtrack to his fears.
Remus tried to relax, rearranging his arms so he's got a hold of Sirius, who he is pretty sure is already sleeping. He's trying to remember how much he likes this, and how no matter what's going on he can still remember how he likes it, this closeness. He tries to remember how Sirius has and probably always will be able to fall asleep despite how loud the music is. Remus never stops Sirius from playing what he likes, and he tries to remember that, doing his best to capture all the little things of the moment not so much so that he can visit them later but so that he can appreciate it as much as he could, right now, until he fell asleep too.
Extra: The Hero of McInnis' Next Novel
"You're like a hero," McInnis said, smoking in a chair behind Remus. Remus dropped his hands from overtop the fire, turning to face McInnis.
"Oh?" It was the only thing that came out, and Remus wanted to kick himself for not stating that he thought that the notion was ridiculous, that McInnis was thinking of someone else and that it was probably one of his friends. Only McInnis didn't know his friends, but that was a minor detail he could overlook. He was not a hero, or a villain, or really even a sidekick. In the grand scheme of things, he was a grunt.
"Yeah. You come here, save me from being completely beaten to a pulp by Skoll, you kept it together and kept Violet safe today, and you're full of intrigue. Abbatia doesn't talk to us much, but you've been into her little lair for tea almost every other day. You're a hero, you must be."
Remus gave a scoff. A hero, right. And those tea times were exactly just that. Tea times, not secret meetings. Not much intrigue there. There wasn't any thing special that they chatted about but he knew that McInnis was right, Abbatia didn't often talk to the others.
"I'm not a hero," Remus said flatly.
"Okay," McInnis said, but he was grinning, "but I like you're work. Just thought I'd let you know that. There aren't many real gentlemen left nowadays."
"I'll settle for being a gentleman, but I'm definitely not a hero."
"Exactly what a hero would say."
Remus frowned and returned to warming his hands. He really didn't know why they were always so cold.