WARNING
A story about very graphic violence, torture and self-mutilation is told in this chapter. I have of course kept the chapter within the rules of the M rating, but if you don't want to read it anyway, PM me and I can send you a summary of the chapter that does not contain any violence.
EDIT June 2012: Because FFNet is now reinforcing their ambiguous ratings, I am now giving you all the HPFF safe version of this chapter. If you want to read the original version, PM me and I will guide you the right way.
Chapter 14
The Cure for Werewolves
The first couple of weeks of the summer holidays were delightful. Myra had pushed Remus' avoidance of her out of her mind. Instead, she focused on enjoying the warm weather, spending time with the family, and life in general. Robert spent time playing and having fun with his girls, while Chelsie ordered them to do their summer work and continue their studies. Myra didn't complain either way, because she had missed her parents.
Everything was perfect; until July 1st. That was the day of the full moon, and of course Myra was reminded of Remus. She didn't stay happy for long.
On the day of the full moon, she was sitting out in the back garden, watching the sun; the sun that would set much too soon. She wondered how Remus was doing at home. How were his transformations there? It was probably a lot nicer for him to have his mother and father take care of him afterwards, instead of Madam Pomfrey. From what Myra had seen on Platform 9 ¾, they were a close and loving family.
A certified Healer would probably have to take a look at him, though. Maybe he was taken to St. Mungo's in order to heal after his transformation. Myra hoped not. She hoped it was enough for him to just stay at home, where people who loved him could take care of him and nurse him back to health.
Thinking about what happened to Remus at home only brought up more unanswerable questions. It occurred to her that she had no idea where he went during the full moon while at Hogwarts, either. Of course, it had to be somewhere safe; Professor Dumbledore had been adamant about safety, especially Remus'.
An image of Remus being walked down into the dungeons and placed in a cage that was magically locked from the outside popped unwanted into her thoughts. She saw him staring at foot-thick stone walls, waiting to turn into a monster. She saw him waking up all alone, on a cold stone floor, shivering with fever and covered in cuts and bruises. Helpless.
Professor Dumbledore would never do that, she told herself firmly, wiping away tears. The Headmaster could never be so heartless.
"Is something wrong, sweetheart?" Her mum sounded worried, as her body leaned over hers, blocking out the sun.
Myra shook her head. She wasn't certain she could trust her voice not to crack.
Chelsie crouched down and put a hand on her shoulder. "Myra, honey, you're crying! What's wrong?"
Myra breathed in deeply, calming herself down. "Nothing's wrong, mum. The sun's stinging my eyes."
"Are you sure? You look upset."
"I'm sure."
"Okay, then stop looking at the sky. Dinner will be ready in a few minutes."
Myra nodded, and watched her mother go back inside before continuing.
Some evidence pointed towards Remus being in the Forbidden Forest during his transformations. Myra remembered how she had followed Sirius, James and Peter outside one of the nights Remus had gone missing. They must have been going to him. But how could they get close to him, when he was going to transform? Sure, they were brave, but they wouldn't be reckless enough to venture into a dangerous forest when they knew a werewolf was going to be on the prowl. Would they?
Throughout the rest of the day Myra was unnaturally quiet, thinking. Robert and Chelsie continued to ask if there was something wrong, but Myra continued lying, telling them that everything was fine. That she was just nervous about the O.W.L. results. They immediately launched into a speech about how clever Myra was, but of course she didn't listen. Instead, she picked at her food, purposely avoiding looking out the window at the setting sun. It felt like her heart was pounding in her chest at twice its normal speed.
She went to bed early that night, but couldn't sleep. She laid awake, gazing out at the night sky. At least she wouldn't be able to hear the ghosts in the Shrieking Shack and its extra loud rampage. She tried to keep her focus on that one happy thought. It was around four or five in the morning that she finally fell asleep.
...
It was Saturday, and both parents were home from work. The entire family was there for breakfast out in their garden.
"You're staring at the sun again, Myra," Chelsie chastised.
"Sorry." Myra blinked furiously as stars flashed across her eyes. Rubbing them hard only made her see more. "Hey, mum." Blinking, she tried to focus on her mother. "Are there any potions or herbs that prevent werewolves from changing at the full moon?"
Chelsie frowned. "Well that's a strange question."
"Why do you want to know?" Robert asked.
"No particular reason," Myra answered. "Just curious."
"I want to know too," Marie added.
Both girls looked expectantly at their mother.
"Well, there have been many experiments over the last two centuries. Most with no results at all. But some had very... gruesome side effects. You know the plant called aconite?" The girls nodded. "Then you'd know that that plant is also known as wolfsbane. Potions Master and Herbologists believe that particular plant will one day cure lycanthropy, but the problem is finding the correct plant among the 250 different aconitum species. It's been used in a few noteworthy experiments, but none of them have been remotely successful. In fact, they tend to have quite inhumane results."
"What was it that went wrong in the experiments?" Myra wanted to know.
Chelsie hesitated with a glance at Marie. "It's a rather dark breakfast conversation, Myra."
"I want to know, mum."
"Me too, mum," Marie piped in once more.
"Later, Myra. And we can talk when you're older, Marie. Okay?"
Marie pouted. Myra nodded, though her apprehension was growing. If they couldn't talk in front of her little sister, it had to be terrible. Was she sure she wanted to know?
Yes. If there was even a remote possibility that something could be done, she wanted to know. Maybe she could help. She might have been dreadful with Potions, but she was very good in Herbology. She needed to know if there was anything she could do.
...
Once Marie had gone to bed that night, Chelsie sat down with her eldest daughter in the sitting room. She had chased Robert away with the task of changing the sheets on their bed.
"He'll take forever with that," Chelsie laughed. "He doesn't know the spells to do it, so he'll have to do it by hand. Housework has never been one of your father's strong suites."
Myra laughed at the image of her dad wrestling with the sheets, but the humorous moment was short lived.
"Do you really want to know the horrible details of the werewolf experiments?" her mother asked again, growing serious.
Myra only hesitated for a second. "Yes."
"Alright then. You won't find anything about this in your schoolbooks. It's something I only learned about in the process of studying to become a Master Apothecary Technician."
"I understand, mum. I want to know."
"I suppose you won't tell me why you want to know?"
Myra shook her head.
Her mum sighed, sounding suddenly much older. "Whatever your motivation is, I hope it's worth it." She took out her wand, summoning a bottle of Firewhiskey and a glass from a cabinet by the window. She filled the glass, and sent the bottle back. Tossing her head back, she downed the drink before finally starting her story.
...
Two centuries ago, it was decided by the Ministry of Magic that something had to be done with werewolves. They couldn't be killed outright because of their half-breed classification: They were half human, therefore their deaths would be considered murder. But their existence caused so many problems that they couldn't continue to run unchecked. Somehow, something needed to be done.
Potions Masters, Herbologists and Healers, the best of their professions, were then employed to work on the case. They would become the very first Unspeakables, and the Department of Mysteries was formed, then known as the Department of Unknown Magic.
They researched for several years, but theory only goes so far. They appealed to those in the Werewolf Registry, promising galleons and the possibility of a cure in exchange for anyone willing to be a participant. Since it was just as hard then for the infected to find employment, several of them stepped forward. Ten participants were eventually accepted for the first round of tests.
The aconitum plant was known to treat symptoms similar to those a werewolf experiences, and that was the basis of the testing. The Unspeakables had created an aconite salve, which the werewolves rubbed into their skin before the full moon. It was supposed to ease the pain and prevent the joints from taking part in the transformation, forcing the body to remain human.
The salve didn't work. In fact, it ate away at the skin. Rather than ease the pain, it increased tenfold. By moonrise, it did nothing to stop the transformation. A gross oversight saw the werewolves locked together in the same room, and with nowhere else to turn they attacked themselves. It was a massacre. Not one of them survived. It was all recorded for Pensieve use, of course. Those whose job it had been to act as witnesses claimed it was unbearable to watch.
The entire experiment was reported as unsuccessful. Months were spent on different areas of research. A series of potions were the result. Twenty in all, utilising ten different species of aconite in two separate variations.
New werewolves were called in for testing on the day before the full moon. They were locked in private rooms, and told to drink from their designated potion once every two hours during the twenty-four hours prior to moonrise. They would report everything they felt even if it was nothing out of the ordinary.
And nothing did happen; until the moon rose. Four werewolves were stuck in mid-transformation, lying on the floor in horribly twisted positions. One werewolf dropped dead the moment his transformation was complete. Seven became more violent than previously recorded. Another ripped himself to pieces. Two had completely normal transformations, and five wolves also seemed to be behaving normally. The only problem was that they never changed back. They were put down the moment the moon set.
The Unspeakables spent seven years re-evaluating their calculations before renewing their experiments. The potions that had caused only half-transformations and the potions that didn't change the wolves back to humans were the ones focused on. Something had gone right with them; just not completely. They were certain that in combining the two with more of the ingredient that halted the transformation, they were sure they would succeed.
Another test group was hired, all given the same potion, administered in the same intervals as the last experiment. Since the Unspeakables were so sure they would succeed, the test subjects were not given private rooms, but were allowed to socialise with each other. An hour before moonrise, their room was locked and secured. The moon rose, and they didn't change.
For one short-lived moment, the Unspeakables rejoiced. They unlocked the room before noticing that the subjects' eyes had changed into those of the wolves'. While the physical transformation had been stopped, they retained the mentality of monsters. The Unspeakables were murdered. Those manic souls managed to break into the higher Ministry levels before all twenty 'werehumans' were brought down by Ministry workers brave enough to face them.
The bloodshed was too great this time to be ignored. Finally the incident, or at least its most significant details, was reported to the public. Those who would normally join the mob chasing werewolves from the country suddenly stood up for the rights of the inflicted, rallying for their right to be treated humanely.
It took a long time for someone to imagine attempting a cure for lycanthropy again, or anything targeting the particular pains of werewolves. Combining treatments into one remedy is not an art, but when you try to repress half of what makes a human being, you need more finesse and skill.
The Ministry of Magic kept the Department of Unknown Magic, but they weren't the ones in charge of these latest experiments. It was a Potions Master in China. The Chinese are more open and accepting than the European community, in regards to those who aren't all human. Their approach was quite different.
This Potions Master tested the ingredients by exposing them to many variables, such as the blood of humans, untransformed and transformed werewolves, Veelas, any kind of blood he could think of that had a similarity to lycanthropy. Of course, he obtained the blood legally and voluntarily by asking for samples.
He put these ingredients together in several different combinations, testing with the different blood samples again. After nearly ten years of the same slow back and forth process, he felt he had enough information to safely make a remedy that could cure a werewolf. It took another three years to develop the potion, and when those who had provided blood samples volunteered to act as test subjects, they were ready to begin.
His potion was supposed to put the subjects into a euphoric state for twelve hours before moonrise. The wolf was known to be terribly aggressive and unreasonable, and this euphoria would supposedly overpower it. By the time this happiness had settled into the mind, the subject would be put in a sleep so deep it resembled death. During the hour before moonrise, when the wolf started to let itself be known, the aconite, or wolfsbane, would kill the wolf from the inside. Certain herbs worked with the wolfsbane to protect the human. The transformation would occur as normal, but the wolf would be in the same deep sleep as the human, and be unable to do anything about its own unavoidable death.
Everything went according to plan, up until a certain point. Halfway through the night, the werewolves started writhing in pain and began transforming back. The Potions Master thought the process was over and the wolves were dead, but when he entered the room to administer the Wakening Potion, they started transforming back into wolves. Back and forth this cycle continued for the remainder of the full moon. By the time it set, they were dead.
...
"No reported attempts have been made since. I don't think there have been any attempts to create something to make the transformations more bearable either," Chelsie finished, watching her daughter carefully for her reaction.
Myra was on the verge of crying. She could feel tears sting in her eyes, threatening to escape at any moment. How was it possible to fail so badly? To mistreat men and women so horribly? To continue treating people that way? She felt sick to her stomach, imagining everything her mother had just told her. She was now sure that Remus was better off without any cure.
"You're a little bit pale there, sweetheart."
"What did you expect? That I would be dancing and singing songs of love and fluff?" Myra swallowed a lump in her throat.
"Do you need something? Something to drink, or something to settle your stomach with?"
Myra shook her head, and forced her voice to be steady. "I'll be fine; I just need to process this. I think I'm going to bed. Night, mum."
But Chelsie stopped her. "Are you sure you don't want to tell me why you wanted to know this?" she asked, seeing her daughter's tearful gaze.
"I'm sure." Her voice was thick.
"Why this sudden interest in werewolves?" Chelsie asked suspiciously.
Myra took a moment to think through her answer. "It's just something I thought about when revising for the Defence O.W.L. I feel bad for them."
Chelsie seemed to accept this answer. "Okay then. Good night, sweetheart."
"Good night, mum."
As Myra walked down the hall to the bedrooms, her father came out of his room, having finished wrestling with the sheets. "Are you alright, Myra dear?"
"Fine, dad. I'm going to bed. Good night."
He didn't stop her, but Myra could just hear him addressing her mother once she'd reached the sitting room. "What did you say to her?"
Myra didn't want to hear the answer, instead she stepped quietly past Marie's open door and into her own room. Once she had shut the door, she fell onto her bed and buried her face in the pillow. She struggled to force out the images of werewolves and humans in various horrible situations.
It had all been so terrible; the experiments on werewolves. The Ministry thought they were doing some great thing, helping these inflicted people, when really all they had done was make it worse. No wonder there were packs who decided to live far away from civilisation. Still, the Ministry had tried to do something. As misguided as their actions were, they had tried to help. Was it really their fault if all their attempts had turned out hopeless? Maybe there really wasn't anything they could do.
Oh, it was all so frustrating! Myra rolled herself across the bed, until she was facing the ceiling. It was so wrong what they had done; but maybe they right to at least try.
She imagined Remus, good, quiet Remus, raging around in his human body, behaving like a rabid wolf. "Merlin, Remus," she croaked, and began to really cry.
As Remus' face floated in front of her, she fell asleep. She hadn't changed out of her clothes or done any of her usual night-time routines. Her dreams were wild and violent; her imagination painting colourful pictures of what her mother had told her. In every scene and every situation, Remus had a starring role. Sometimes he was the raging monster. Sometimes the ghoulish victim.
It was one of the worst nights Myra had had in a long, long time.
Author Notes
It's suddenly been decided that I'll be going away this weekend, so you get this two days before my plans!
I finally got a second beta, and possibly a backup beta! Yay! The new beta broadwaykat over at HPFF and she betaed this chapter, both the version you're reading now, and the HPFF safe version of the story Chelsie told.
I've decided to participate in Camp NaNoWriMo in June and August. This should not affect the posting like it did in November, since it's a more relaxed event that the regular NaNoWriMo. You can watch the progress on my profile page, or on my blog!
Next chapter is scheduled for the weekend 15-17 of June. Please review if you have anything to say!
EDIT June 2012: Because FFNet is now reinforcing their ambiguous ratings, I am now giving you all the HPFF safe version of this chapter. If you want to read the original version, PM me and I will guide you the right way.
Coming: Chapter 15 - Title in desperate need of work
Chelsie explained. (...) "It's been said that certain spells will be more powerful if performed during the full moon, but I I've also heard somewhere that magic is less powerful during the full moons."