Loup Lumineux

He, frighted, to the silent Desart flies;

There howles, and speech with lost indeauour tries.

His selfe-like jawes still grin: more then for food

He slaughters beasts, and yet delights in blood.

His armes to thighs, his clothes to bristles chang'd;

A Wolfe; not much from his first forme estrang'd:

So horie hair'd; his lookes so full of rape;

So fiery ey'd; so terrible his shape.

-- Ovid's "Metamorphoses", book one; a description of Lycaon, translated in 1632 by George Sandys

One minute, she was standing on firm ground on the roadside beyond Severus Snape's home at Spinner's End. The next moment, Ginny Weasley was plummeting out of the sky headfirst, her body tossed carelessly by high winds as she fell, screaming in spite of herself, and collided with the sharp branch of a particularly ruthless pine tree. A piece of ragged bark tore open the skin of her left cheek, but there was hardly time to consider the smarting wound, because Ginny tipped forward again, lost her balance as well as her tremulous hold on the fistful of pine needles, and fell the remaining twenty feet onto the forest floor.

"Mer -- Merlin," she managed, staggering upright after a few moments. As Severus had taught her, she raised Peter's wand and ran it gingerly over her legs, then her arms, and nervously over her torso and stomach, checking for damage with a revealing spell. The white light glowing faintly from the tip of the borrowed wand never flickered red for an instant, and Ginny drew a deep breath. Then, abruptly, her legs gave out and she fell to the ground, dissolving into tears.

For a long while, she remained mostly still and only semi-conscious, her face pressed against the warm, matted carpet of dead pine needles and crunchy old leaves. Underneath them, she could scent the loamy smell of the dirt, and something crisp and green that might have been moss, and the metallic, earthy sensation of the leaves as they crumbled into dust. It was comforting, despite the fact that the wind flew over her, stealing her bodily warmth. Ginny knew, of course, how to create fire from nothingness, and how to cast a decent warming spell even without the potion Severus had preferred, but she could not be bothered. All she could manage was to rein in her frenetic breathing and try to get some control over her flailing heart.

After some time, during which she might have dozed, Ginny sat up, blinking in the semi-darkness. It had been pitch night when she had taken hold of the wand -- a Portkey, she realized now, marvelling both at the fact Pettigrew had managed such a complicated spell, and that he had done it for her. However, the darkness was on the run, chased away by a silvery-blue edging on the horizon that indicated impending dawn. Her surroundings were too clogged with trees for Ginny to see properly, but a hint of bluish light managed to filter through the canopy, and she allowed the sight of it to strengthen her.

"Where am I?" Ginny asked aloud, giving over to the mad hope that Severus might be there by her side. She knew better, of course; she was nearly of age now, and certainly an independent-minded witch even at the worst of times, but for an instant she clung desperately to the notion that he was wandering through the trees, his black robes flapping eagerly, his dark eyes narrowed and searching. She even managed a tremulous "Severus?" before deciding to accept the reality of her situation, which meant determining where she was, ensuring that she was safe, and deciding what to do next.

The rusty door groaned in protest as it was dragged open, and Remus, glancing over his shoulder, felt his heart sink as his solemn golden eyes met Bellatrix Lestrange's haughty dark ones. The witch seemed in particularly good cheer, her thin lips forced into a smirking smile. Holding out her wand, she spoke the spell for light and sent a thin circle of glowing white to rise within the room. Severus, waking from a doze, shielded his eyes at the sight of it, wondering what was going on, but Remus recognised it instantly; an imitation of the moon. Trailing his glance upwards, he followed the miniature orbit of the shining sphere, sickened by the sight of it, but unable to tear his eyes away.

"Have a nice morning?" Bellatrix hissed, waving her wand so that the sphere dissolved back into nothingness, returning the room to darkness. Her sneer was a bit too knowing, and she stabbed a finger in Severus' direction. "Traitor -- defiling yourself with a werewolf. You disgust me. Oh yes, the Dark Lord knows," she added with a sharp look at Remus. "Can you feel him, exploring your mind even now, Lupin? Your eyes give him vision, and he can read your thoughts like today's issue of the Daily Prophet. Don't try and fight," Bellatrix advised as Remus pressed a hand to his forehead and closed his eyes in concentration. "You are nowhere near as powerful armed, and nothing without your wand."

Biting his lip to avoid responding to her taunts, for he knew it would only earn him increased punishment to reply, Remus slunk backwards slightly, his eyes narrowed as he glared silently in her direction. He came to rest a bit behind Severus, who had risen to his feet and staggered towards Bellatrix.

"Come to play, Bella?" Severus inquired. His words were mild, but his tone was cruel. "Voldemort has no better use for you, I see."

In response, her face whitened, and she stabbed her wand at Severus. "Sectumsempra!" she screamed at the top of her voice, and Severus had a moment to stare at her, startled by the sound of his own invented curse ringing in his ears, before the spell hit him. A dozen blades opened his mending flesh, leaving deep gouges in his skin. Blood flowed freely from his shocked face as he sank down to the ground, unable to bear his own weight on his right leg, which had faced a gruesome attack that had severed the tendon of his ankle. Bellatrix' laughter rang coldly in Severus' ears. "You think you can insult me, Snape? You, wandless, powerless -- there is nothing more you can accomplish." Her facial expression changed to one of pure hatred. "Your betrayal will be the death of you, and the destruction of the werewolf's soul!" she shouted. "How could you have been so stupid? Did you think you would never be found out?"

With shaking hands, Severus examined his injured leg. He could feel the sting of sweat dripping into the wound on his face, but he had no time to pay it any mind. Blood was seeping through his trousers, and he realised they had been torn; Bellatrix had not only hurt his ankle, but her curse had torn open his thigh, severing an artery. He covered the wound, but blood poured through his fingers, unwilling to be staunched. "What --" he began, but the words failed him, and he wondered if she intended him to bleed to death.

"Just a little paper cut, Snape," she teased, remembering her words to him in his house. "Enough to spill a drop of blood, to give the werewolf the scent." Her smile was pristine; in another lifetime, she might have been beautiful, standing there tall and confident, her robes falling over her curves, dark hair trailing down her back. However, there was too much cruelty in her face for her to ever be considered lovely. "They can detect it from miles away, you know, just the scent on the wind, though of course, that won't be necessary tonight. It's such a small hall, really. Consummate predators, werewolves," she added, with a respectful glance at Remus, who was ashen. "Skilful hunters, whatever their reputation. They can tell when their prey is wounded; according to the Department for the Regulation of Magical Creatures, they prefer to attack when they know the prey had been injured."

Remus shook, his eyes beseeching. "No, please --"

However, Severus interrupted him. His voice was weak, but steady. "Your plan is to have Lupin kill me, is that it?" There was an edge of distain in his voice. "How predictable."

Bellatrix snickered. "Oh, we shall see, won't we. You're strong, but not strong enough, Snape. You will die."

Remus looked horrified, but Severus merely shrugged, continuing to press down on the gaping cut on his leg. "There are worse things," he said, his voice decidedly strong as he considered the possible fate. Noting the ugly look on Bellatrix' face, he smiled slightly, affecting ease. "So it's intended for me to die by a werewolf's hands? Inform your lord," he went on, rage in his voice, though the volume did not increase, "that I have already suffered the worst torture imaginable. Nothing he can do to me now will compare to the death of Lily Evans." Sneering, he released his leg; the blood had begun to clot, though his trousers were soaked with it. "Tell him," he added forcefully. "And tell him I welcome death, whether it comes from his wand or is delivered to me via Lupin's teeth."

Furious with her game being spoiled, Bellatrix crossed her arms angrily over her chest. "It'll devastate him," she said pointedly, her eyes flicking towards Remus.

"I give him permission," Severus retorted coldly. "Let him do what he will, with no regrets. It wouldn't be his fault anyway, nor anything he could control. He'll still be guiltless in that respect."

Glowering at the two of them for a moment, Bellatrix then turned away, beckoning Lucius Malfoy over to her side. He came, and she smiled, evil lighting her eyes with renewed bliss. "Well, then, perhaps you feel no concern over the state of your soul, Lupin," she said crisply, "not that you should, over the death of one such as Snape. However, I'm sure you, at least, would be tormented by the thought of an innocent ripping apart their soul with murder? Yes?" she prompted.

"Oh Bellatrix," Remus said softly. "Don't you ever tire of this? We know Ginevra escaped."

Instead of grimacing with disappointment at his reaction, Bellatrix' smile widened. "So, you think you know the game, do you? Well, Lupin, permit me to shock you. I was going to wait until later, but evening is fast on the rise and the moon will be full and shining in little more than an hour, so I'll go ahead and ruin the surprise now. Lucius, bring him."

Severus and Remus exchanged a nervous, questioning glance as Bellatrix stepped back from the door, leaving only her shadow. Lucius Malfoy appeared in the doorway, but neither man paid him any heed. They were both staring at the small, snarling child, his wrists bound and attached to a leash that Lucius held tightly in his hands. The boy's eyes were shining like platinum in the dimness, and his mouth was open, exposing white teeth filed down to perfect points. He was feral, his hair matted, his skin dirty, the few scraps of fabric that had once been neat robes hand-made by Nymphadora ragged and hanging off his shoulders and hips.

"If that Lupin doesn't get you," Bellatrix laughed at Severus as she pointed at Remus, "this one will. And thanks to Fenrir's training, you might not even have to wait for night to fall." With that, she nodded to Lucius, who managed a distasteful grimace as he pushed the filthy boy through the doorway and slammed the door.

The undergrowth was thick, blocking out most of the pearly sheen of the dewy sunlight that bravely attempted to penetrate the dense foliage, but there was enough light for Ginny to see by, at any rate, and she moved forward as quickly as she could. She had forgotten the spell that indicated the direction, and cursed herself under her breath for it, remembering how easily the charm had come to her when she had trained at Quidditch and how she'd found virtually no trouble at all in casting it during various summer afternoons out exploring with Ron or the twins.

Thinking of her brothers, she cringed, futile anger and sadness threatening to trouble her, but Ginny managed, with some difficulty, to force her thoughts to more direct matters pertaining to her survival. As she walked, she gave herself a brief assessment. Her nightgown was in shambles, but at least it was still there; though dirt-streaked, it had clung to her shoulders, and was only a bit torn and sullied with muck. She had some scratches on her legs and face, and a stinging cut on her arm which she supposed would bother her eventually, but nothing life-threatening. Her feet were bare, and injured from running up the street at Spinner's End, but they felt all right walking upon the soft blanket of pine needles and furry moss. There was nothing to eat, no one to help her, but at least she had the wand, if any spells would occur to her. She wondered if she had bumped her head when she had fallen out of the sky clinging to Peter's Portkey wand. If so, there was no pain, and Ginny was reasonably certain she would recall useful magic soon enough. In any case, she mused, all I have to do now is keep walking.

After a time -- it might have been several hours, based on the soreness of Ginny's feet and her exhaustion, and the way the sun had swelled brighter bronze above her -- Ginny realised that she was hearing voices. She froze, instantly crouching down as if to hide behind a scraggly white pine sticky with sap, her head ducked behind some tall weeds. There were voices, definitely, but they did not sound like Death Eaters. In fact, Ginny realised as she hovered there, arms over her head as though expecting to be hit with a bludger at any moment, the voices seemed to belong to children.

"I bet not even you can trump that, Foley," chided one, a young boy who sounded, to Ginny's curious ears, both stuck-up and Slytherin. "Six Gryffindors and a Hufflepuff, all wasting a perfectly good Saturday in detention thanks to me."

"Big deal," said his companion, another young male voice, with a tone of disappointment. Ginny could hear the muffled thump where he kicked the ground unhappily with the toe of his trainer.

"Professor Carrow certainly thought I did well," came the reply. "Said I showed right proper loyalty to the Dark Lord, and that Headmaster Snape would have been proud to see such a show of bravery from his favourite house."

Sniffing, the second boy wondered, "where is the headmaster, anyway? He's not been in his office lately, so I've heard. My brother's the Head Boy now, you know, and he's supposed to meet with Snape regularly for reports." It was obvious the boy was trying to bolster his credentials and make himself important, for he added, "You know he's considering me for prefect next year, when Draco Malfoy leaves school, don't you? Said himself I'm the reliable sort, and me only a third year."

"He's gone on the Dark Lord's orders, I guess," was the answer. "Doesn't have time to sit in that office all day I suppose. Blimey, but I wish he would come back. I can't stand that old wretch they have for Deputy, nasty old McGonagall." His voice went low. "I wish they'd interrogate her on her family tree. If you ask me, she's entirely too lenient on half-bloods. It shows an inappropriate love for filthy Mudbloods, according to my father." Snorting in disgust, he added "Nasty blood traitors, they're just a bad as Mudblood filth themselves."

"Worse!"

"There are so many of them around these days, it's just a disgrace. Longbottom, for one. Did you see him the other day, telling off Professor Carrow when she said we ought to round up Muggles and burn them, like they tried to do to us in the old days? He said she was off her rocker and that he'd be more proud to have sullied Muggle blood in those veins of his than the pure blood he's got!"

"He didn't dare! Really? That's where he got those scars across his face then, isn't it?"

"Most likely. Course, it didn't shut him up, he's either stupid or suicidal, but he kept it up until Professor Carrow gave him the Cruciatus. I suppose he's left school now and gone into hiding, if he's got any brains at all. She's out for his blood now. Apparently she's decided that pureblood or not, Longbottom is a liability. Well, she's right, naturally. Can't have blood traitors like that spreading that madness around for people to hear!"

After a while, the sound of the boys' conversation drifted away, and Ginny righted herself, dusting off bits of dried leaves as she marvelled at the place in which she had found herself. Hogwarts! He sent me to the Forbidden Forest! She had heard Remus speak at length about his exploits in his youth, and he had mentioned patrolling the forest on enchanted nights in his werewolf state alongside his closest friends, among which Peter had counted himself. She was surprised, but pleasantly so, that Hogwarts was the destination to which Peter had sent her. He had sent her as close as he could to the school, probably assuming she could find her bearings from there, and Ginny was grateful as she crept cautiously forward, taking care not to trod upon and snap any twigs, lest someone be alerted to her presence.

The grounds were as manicured as usual, the grass dark green and vibrant, though obscured with a low level of chill fog. The presence of the murky, dense fog was easily explained as Ginny looked westward, to the place where black-garbed Dementors floated, seeking shade. Their cloaks ruffled as though in the wind, though Ginny felt only the mildest breeze here, hidden near the copse of trees. Hogwarts castle stood tall and imposing, and Ginny was struck by the memory of the first night she had laid eyes upon it. How majestic the spires had seemed, how menacing the dark façade, and the lapping, chilly waters as they sailed in rickety boats. It was frightening now, because she knew it was no longer home, no longer safe. If she entered, she would not be ushered into a warm hall with tables laid with feast, nor invited to settle down in her warm bed, the hangings closed around her. There would be no treacle tart, nor pumpkin juice, nor Harry Potter over which to fawn with that tiresome, childish crush. Not even Snape's cold, dungeon classroom -- she started a little, remembering the Snape she had detested, so different from the Severus she missed -- was open to her now.

Apparition was impossible on Hogwarts grounds, but Ginny knew the Forest had no boundaries or rules. It resisted magic and control, growing wild and untamed in defiance of wizard kind and the laws they set. Smiling, Ginny took out her wand and clutched it with both hands. She had been too young to learn how to Apparate during her Hogwarts days, though Fred and George, either out of kindness or, more likely, a desire to tease her if she got splinched, had often given in to the temptation to grab her elbow and pull her Side-Along. Severus, a better teacher, had gone further, giving her not only the theory but his advice on technique. She had never managed it before, but she was prepared to try again. Screwing up her concentration and courage, Ginny took a deep breath and whispered to herself, "the Burrow!"

"Teddy!" Remus cried, trying to grasp the shoulders of the small boy who struggled in his arms. In the light of a flickering candle -- Lucius Malfoy's parting gift to Severus, to chase away the darkness -- the boy's features were a mass of rage. His eyes shone wildly, a pinkish sheen across his irises. There were cuts along his lips and chin, and -- Remus swallowed, feeling nauseated -- the lingering, angry purple of a fairly recent scar winding it's way across the boy's forehead, down his cheek and over the bridge of his nose. Fenrir had not been kindly, but had gone far beyond what was necessary to convert the boy to his kind.

"Teddy, stop it!" Remus said as the child snapped his jaws at him. "Teddy, listen to me!" He shook the boy's shoulders a bit roughly, hoping it might snap his young son out of whatever madness consumed him, but it was to no avail. The boy hooked his hands to claws and slapped at his father, scratching and clawing for freedom. Remus took the blow, surprisingly hefty, from his son's fist, feeling his eyes smart with tears at the sharp pain, as well as his rising horror at the beast his little boy had become. "God! Teddy, please!"

From the corner, Severus gripped the candle tightly, ignoring the stinging flow of hot melted wax over his fingers. Already, an inch of the candle had burned down, and he knew it was unlikely to last until the transformation. Anyway, he did not want to see. He had watched Remus change before, his body bending, his spine curving and lengthening, his limbs growing strange and furred, his eyes losing the impassioned humanity and becoming cold and blank and soulless. Severus had no desire to watch that again, nor to see Remus' face in agony as he experienced the pain and terror of becoming a monster out of control, intent on seeking and killing prey.

"Let him go, Lupin," Severus spoke, watching as Remus, on his knees, gave his son a stern shake. The boy's full head of hair faded from blue to pale grey, his teeth grew to canine fangs with sharp points, despite the absence of the moon, and Severus remembered the woman who had been the child's mother, Nymphadora Tonks, Metamorphmagus. Ah, how Greyback would have exploited that, Severus considered. A werewolf child that did not have to wait for the full moon to transform. However, it did not seem that Teddy was completely aware of what he was doing; the transition seemed unconscious, and stopped, leaving him an awkward mixture of human and wolf. "You may as well let him do it now. Go ahead, let him bite; maybe I'll bleed to death before the moon grows full." His eyes glittered menacingly and defiant. "He won't be able to kill me, it'll be you who does it if you wait."

Remus' eyes shone desperate, and he grabbed Teddy's hand as the boy made to wrench himself free of Remus' sweaty hands. "No, I won't. You're hurt badly enough all ready, I don't know if you've survive another wound at this point."

Severus' laugh was dry, joyless. "Does it really matter if I wait an hour for death? I'm not going to leave this room alive, Lupin, we both know that. You must admit, a slow death, falling asleep from lack of blood, is a much kinder end than being torn apart by two werewolves….one of whom is apparently suffering from hydrophobia," he added with a glance toward Teddy, who was foaming slightly at the mouth as he fought his father, wanting to seek out the bleeding man in the corner. As if it was of little interest, Severus considered the boy. "Let him loose, Lupin, or he'll just keep fighting you. That's not your boy anymore, not really."

"He's my son!" For a moment, Remus was hit by the memory of nearly abandoning Nymphadora immediately prior to Teddy's birth, and the guilt shook him. There was nothing he could do about that now, of course, and his desertion had not contributed to their predicament, but still, he felt disgusted with himself, and ashamed.

"No, he's not!" answered Severus sharply. He shuffled to his feet, hating the weakness of his wounded body. His damaged leg tingled, a pins and needles sensation of numbness fading, and his skin felt stretched by the spread of dried blood across him. With one hand, he caught hold of the wall, feeling his head spin with the dizziness that came from a loss of blood. Should have cut me harder, Bella, he thought belligerently, I won't bleed to death like this, or if I do it'll take ages. The thought occurred to him that she had not intended to make his demise so easy, and he grimaced, hating that arrogant, smirking face. He was right on the edge, healthy enough that he would heal in time if allowed, hurt enough to make it virtually impossible to fight off even the child werewolf. Cub, he thought, with a modicum of amusement. "There is nothing left of the boy, Lupin. You can see that as plainly as I can. He's a monster now, a creature, one of Greyback's kind. You don't have to like it," he added, noting the slow, plump tears rolling down Remus' cheeks, "but you will accept it."

Teddy made a savage leap for Severus, who was creeping slowly forth, hoisting the candle overhead with one hand and keeping his balance against the wall with the other. Remus, shocked, felt his boy's hand slide out of his, but he grabbed Teddy in time, forcing him down to the ground. The boy fell harder than Remus had intended, and he winced as his son cried out in pain: a mewling, keening sort of sound that did not belong in a human mouth. Pinning him there, the snarling child's wrists clamped in his own tight grip, Remus pressed one hand firmly down on the boy's back. His voice was deadly, thick with rage and quavering slightly with intensity of feeling. "I will not," he said coldly, "allow my son to kill." He glared fiercely at Severus. "Not anyone. Not even you."

Sensing his legs would not carry him much further, Severus settled for sliding down the wall onto the floor. He slapped his torn thigh impatiently, used to his body functioning according to his desires, not succumbing to pain or exhaustion until he granted himself permission. The tight control was gone now, and he held the candle tightly, glad for the punishment of burning wax.

"You'll have no choice, in an hour," he pointed out.

"A lot can happen in an hour," Remus answered resentfully, though he knew it was extremely unlikely anything would change.

"I want it over with, Lupin. I don't want to wait. This candle won't hold out much longer, and then I won't know what's coming for me, in the darkness. It'll be worse, then."

"Severus --"

"Consider it!" Feebly, Severus made himself sit up straighter. He tilted his chin, proudly, as though it might make him feel better. "How would you feel, alone in the dark, your only company two prowling beasts searching for you?"

Distraught, Remus bowed his head "Don't make me decide what happens to you, Severus. I won't do it. I won't let him go."

"Teddy!" Severus said sharply. "Teddy, here!" He flung out his arm, which had been splattered with his own blood. The blood had dried, but the scent remained. "Come on!"

"Seve --" Remus began, but he did not have time to finish the name.

Beneath him, Teddy scrambled up, exhibiting force completely out of line with the expected strength for a child of his age. He opened his mouth, exposing a full line of jagged, razor-sharp teeth. His nose elongated, twisting into a wolfish snout, and his back curved, resembling the posture of a dog ready to leap and bite. On all fours, he hurried forth, his body bristling with white fur as he went, a strangled sound which might have been howling emerging from his throat.

"Teddy -- no!" Remus cried, jumping up and throwing himself in the direction the boy had taken, but Teddy was already running full-tilt towards Severus, who had paled considerably but who still held his bruised arm out in offering. "Teddy!"

Remus' words were drowned out as Severus shouted in pain. Teddy's mouth had clamped firmly over his arm, the teeth sunken deep within the flesh, though there was nothing human left on the boy, who no longer resembled a confusing blend of canine and wizard features, but who was simply a small white wolf, growling furiously, shaking the victim grasped in his mouth. A few droplets of blood stained Teddy's muzzle claret, but this did not deter him. He flew forward again, this time biting at Severus' leg despite the wizard's attempt to kick him away. His eyes shone inhumanly bronze; they were pupil-less, Severus had time to note before Remus grasped the snapping, flailing wolf cub and flung it from him in the opposite direction, a look of pure horror on his face.

"Severus!" Remus screamed, beside himself with shock and dismay. He looked at the white wolf that had been his son, which had curled defensively in the corner. Teddy growled, licking his leg, which had been bruised by Severus' sharp kick, but he made no move to rise and attack again, instinctively feeling two wizards were his match, even if one of them was bleeding freely.

Pulling his own hair, Remus shook his head frantically. "Severus! What were you -- how could you --" His voice gave out and he crumpled to the ground, utterly devoid of energy, unable to articulate the anger and misery he felt inside. "He -- you --" he managed finally, stammering incoherently. "How did you -- what were you thinking? What have you accomplished now?" He stabbed a finger in the direction of Severus' arm, which the other man was gingerly prodding with a look of resolution and acceptance on his face. "You won't die from that, it's not deep enough, but you'll not heal properly either. Don't you know what happens when you're bitten by a non-transformed werewolf? Didn't you see what happened to Bill Weasley, when he was bitten by Greyback? Scarred -- changed -- never wholly human again --"

"But he was," Severus pointed out gravely, sucking in his breath as he probed a particularly painful bite. "Transformed," he added, at Remus' confusion. "Not by the moon, Lupin, but look at him!" Pointing towards Teddy, who had given over to the wolf inside and remained solidly, undoubtedly lupine, Severus nodded with some satisfaction despite the pain. "They," he began, utterly a low laugh. "They thought that would be the worst thing, worse than death. Bellatrix, Rookwood -- you've seen the way they look when they mention your…affliction. They thought I'd rather die than be a werewolf." His features contorted in pain, but he smiled faintly. "They'd be wrong."

"And you think --" Remus said, shocked.

"I think it worked, yes," said Severus, running his tongue experimentally over his teeth. They seemed sharper, though it was still fifteen minutes from full night. He could feel shooting pains in his stomach, and a strange thick, slow flow of something mysterious in his veins, that poured through him like honey. His heartbeat was rapid, anxious, and he thought, as he stared into the dying light of the guttering candle, of how beautiful it would be to see the moon.