Chapter 25 ~ August, 1996

Jane Novak watched in concern as her new helper, and the reservation's newest resident, trudged dejectedly through the door of the dining hall. She'd hoped Artemis was making progress settling in, but the news of her pregnancy seemed to set her back. Jane shook her head. It was time for a little tough love.

"Sweetie, come here for a minute," she called to Artemis before the woman could disappear into the kitchen. "You and I need to have a little chat."

Artemis tried to muster up a smile. She liked Jane, really she did. The spicy woman reminded Artemis of Rhoda from the old Mary Tyler Moore Show on TV. While she worked, Jane always wore a bright scarf over the kinky black curls she'd said were a gift from her Jewish family. Away from work the wild hair danced around her face, refusing to be tamed, even with Sleekeazy's Hair Potion.

"What's up, Jane?" Artemis asked.

"I'm worried about you, and I thought it might help if we talked a little," Jane said bluntly.

Artemis hesitated. "I'm trying…I really am. But I just feel so numb about everything."

Jane's face softened. "You're depressed. It's completely understandable with the shock of the situation on top of the hormones. But, please know we've all been in your shoes, honey. We've all been the new kid, completely overwhelmed with what's happened to us. And we've all had to come to terms with an undesirable situation. We can help you if you'll let us."

Artemis closed her eyes and let out a small sigh. Great. Now she felt selfish on top of all the other emotions. Of course these people had gone through just as much pain and loss as she had – more even.

Jane smiled and patted her hand. "Now, before we do anything else, you are going to have something to eat. I knew you weren't eating much here, but then Oscar told Kieran you hadn't been coming to the storehouse for food either, so Kieran was harping on me to look after you better. Have you been having any morning sickness?"

"Just first thing when I wake up in the morning," she whispered. "It goes away if I eat some crackers."

"Well consider yourself lucky," Jane smiled. "I was sick all day long every day for twelve weeks. It was horrific." Artemis was ridiculously annoyed to find herself wiping away tears again. Jane rose from her chair and came around to give Artemis a long hug. "Now you sit here while I dish you up some food. Ellie said you're having a girl?"

Artemis dug a tissue out of her pocket and wiped her eyes, nodding. "I…uh…yeah, I guess so." She buried her face in her arms against the wooden tabletop, trying to give herself an internal pep talk. Several minutes later she hadn't convinced herself to look up, and the sound of chairs scraping across the old linoleum floor told her it was too late. The others arrived for breakfast, and Jane began setting out platters of food and pots of tea and coffee. Artemis reluctantly raised her head and found every seat at the table filled and eighteen faces watching her – some curious, but most concerned. She cleared her throat uncomfortably and looked back down at the table.

A soft Irish voice floated down the table to her, "We're all very glad you decided to join us this morning, Artemis. We've been worried about you."

Artemis looked up at Ellie, and managed to smile a little sheepishly. "I know. I've been kind of…hiding. I haven't been dealing with things very well."

"Well," said Kieran, a smile softening his gruff voice. "I think it's time you met everyone. We're a family, not a work camp."

The large table sat six down each side and four across the ends. Artemis tried to smile and acknowledge each person as they one by one told her their names and a tidbit of their own story. "Oscar Rodriguez," said a suave, dark haired man with a slight accent. "My wife, Rosa, and I are originally from Peru, and have lived here for twenty-five years. I manage the supply storehouse, and Rosa assists Hawthorne with teaching the niños." He gestured toward a tall man with a bushy grey beard.

"Hawthorne Endress," nodded the tall man. "I study medieval history and teach the younger residents, and I've lived here for eleven years…My wife and sons live off-res in Colorado," he added, almost as an afterthought.

"We're the niños," offered a pretty blonde teenager, sitting beside Artemis. "I'm Isabel Rosier, and down this side is my sister, Catherine, then Gareth Travers, Daisy Parkinson, and Joshua Wilkes. We've all lived here for almost fifteen years now."

Jane, who was sitting beside Hawthorne, gave Artemis an encouraging smile. "Jane Novak, best rugelach baker west of the Bronx. I've lived here for ten years and my family also lives off-res."

Artemis' smile faltered a little. She'd been working with Jane for weeks and hadn't bothered to try and get to know her at all. Who had she left behind? Artemis tried to focus again, as the shorter, well-muscled man with the shaved head next to Jane had started to speak.

"Xander Bryant. Me and my brother, Xavier, are No-Maj. Um…we're former thieves. Got turned ten years ago when we made the mistake of trying to rob Kieran's business on a full moon. I'm pretty good with logistics, always planned the jobs, so I help Oscar with the supplies. Xavier's an electrician." The man Xander pointed to was also well-built, but he had curly, reddish gold hair and was covered in tattoos. Artemis recognized him as one of the men who'd helped reinforce her bathroom.

Xavier nodded a greeting. "Hezekiah and me work on getting the 'lectrical stuff and the magic stuff to mesh," he added softly. "So we got radios, power tools, and some cookin' appliances, but haven't figured out the vacuums yet."

Beside Xander sat an exquisitely lovely and poised black woman. She studied Artemis with slightly narrowed eyes before giving her a brief nod. Artemis gave a slight nod in return and lowered her eyes to the table top. Alma Thomas. She'd been an Auror with MCUSA, and had been turned by the same werewolf that bit Apollo. Artemis couldn't help the guilt that washed over her. The rogue werewolf had escaped when she and Apollo went after it, and Alma's team had been the next group called to track it down. The strange man was working as a mail carrier, and Alma had found and killed him, but not before she'd been bit. Artemis gave herself a mental shake to cut off the chorus of what ifs rolling through her mind.

"Alma and I are both former Aurors. Since we turned ourselves in we were allowed to keep our wands, and work security here – patrols and reinforcing the wards to keep any curious No-Maj away." The blonde man with ice blue eyes smiled. "I'm Marcus Peterson. I've lived here for about twelve years now. Have you been the one making the chocolate muffins? Yours are far better than Jane's." His eyes twinkled and he winked at Jane teasingly.

"I'd like to see her best my rugelach," muttered Jane, shooting Marcus a half-hearted glare.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. It's my turn now," interrupted a young black man. He'd been the other man who'd worked on Artemis' house. "I'm Hezekiah Walker, ma'am, former chaser of the Southwest Spitfires. My Quadpot career was cut tragically short five years ago when I ran into a werewolf before an away game in Portland. Now I help Tweedledum get his ragtag No-Maj electrical junk to work better."

The tattooed Xavier just snorted and shook his head. "I'm Elspeth Finley," piped a warbly voice from the end of the table. "Reservation's oldest resident. I've been here since nineteen thirty-five. Was training to be an Auror and had a run-in with a werewolf during Grindlewald's uprising. You can call me Nana." Artemis smiled at the soft, heavy-set woman with a wand stuck behind her ear.

"And you can call me Grams," said the fragile-looking woman next to Elspeth. "I'm Lois Evans, of Birmingham, Alabama. Also a No-Maj. Back in 'fifty-five I was running away from some white men in sheets and ran straight into a werewolf. He got one bite in before those Klansmen showed up. They must have tasted better than I did, 'cause I woke up here and they told me there weren't nothing left of them but an arm or a leg here and there."

Nana nodded sagely, "The hearts who thrive in darkness will get what's coming to them. Me and Lois here have been running the place since she came in 'fifty-five. But we let Kieran think he's in charge," she added with a whisper.

"Yes," said Kieran dryly. "I'm aware…"

"Wolf," interjected Artemis without thinking, then blushed and stared down at her plate.

The girl called Daisy giggled and Kieran rolled his eyes. "Lovely, another one who likes bad wolf jokes."

Artemis bit her lip trying to hold back her own laugh. "Don't you mean big bad wolf jokes?"

The rest of the table erupted in equal parts groans and laughter. As the sounds died away, Artemis realized that everyone was looking at her, waiting for her introduction. She blushed and looked down at the table again, before clearing her throat and straightening up. "I'm Artemis Scamander," she said clearly. "I'm not a werewolf, but my brother was. I was sent here because I didn't turn him in."

"And you expect an hija," interjected Rosa eagerly, a bright smile lighting up her face.

"That means daughter," Isabel whispered to Artemis. "Rosa loves children. She has been our mamá since we arrived."

Artemis took a deep breath to fight off the now expected sensation of being overwhelmed at the thought of a baby and a werewolf reservation and being so far from home, but…it didn't happen. She looked around the table at the new faces and felt peaceful. These people were taking her in, regardless of who she was or what she'd done. For the first time since she arrived Artemis smiled a bright natural smile. "Thank you…for giving me time to adjust. And yes," she said, nodding at Rosa, "Ellie says it's a girl."

Rosa clapped her hands excitedly and launched into a stream of Spanish at Oscar. He smiled affectionately at her and nodded, playing with the black waves of hair that hung down her back. Isabel leaned over again. "She's giving Oscar a list of all the things he'll need to order before the baby comes."

"All right, eat hearty y'all," called Grams from the end of the table. "All this chatter won't get the work done." A rumble of other conversations broke out as plates and cups were passed and filled and silverware clinked. Artemis, feeling hungry for the first time in weeks, dug in.

Sirius looked over the old woman standing in his front hallway critically. "Well, I suppose you'll do."

"Shut it, Black. My own mother wouldn't recognize me, and you know it," Lina answered, the words raspy and bizarre sounding from the wrinkled old mouth with a slash of pink lipstick across it.

"Very true," he acknowledged, studying her. Finally he shook his head, "Nope, I can't do it."

Lina sighed, "Can't do what?"

"Can't kiss you good-bye," he answered with a charming grin. "You're hideous."

"Well who says I was going to let you?" Lina scowled up at him, but the image of the tiny old woman trying to look threatening was too much. Sirius laughed out loud and kissed her cheek.

"Good luck my little Vixen," he whispered.

Lina tried the scowl again. "Look, just because that's my nickname doesn't mean you have permission to use it. And even if you did it wouldn't make me yours."

"We'll see about that, Miss Bingley," Sirius said smugly. "I've been told I'm a highly determined individual."

Lina cracked a smile in spite of herself. "You're a piece of work, Black. Tell Lupin I'll send any information on Artemis as soon as I have it."

Sirius nodded and hefted her suitcase down the front steps to the waiting taxi. If the taxi driver was momentarily confused as to how he missed the old lady and her son coming out of Number Ten, when they suddenly appeared beside his cab, he passed it off as simply being too early in the morning.

The driver watched the son help the old woman into the car and place the suitcase in the boot. He then leaned toward the open window and gave the woman a cheeky grin. "Don't forget to use the mirror, Granny." Catching the driver's eye, he added, "She has trouble plucking her chin hairs."

The cab driver snorted in the surprise as the old woman shot the younger man a two fingered salute and rolled up the window. "Well, what are you waiting for?" she snapped at the driver. "Heathrow Airport. I have a flight to catch." The driver shook his head in amusement and and pulled away from the curb.

Artemis huffed in frustration and pushed her sweaty hair off her face. "How are you finding so many?" she called to Jane.

Jane shrugged. "Just practice. You have to know their favorite spots. And you're still too timid – sometimes you have to give them a little push off the nest."

Artemis scrunched her face up in determination and approached the next sitting hen. The hen tried to give her a sharp peck as she stretched out her hand toward the nest. Artemis' hand shot out in irritation and shoved the hen backwards. Utterly offended, the hen squawked and launched herself at Artemis' face, wings flapping relentlessly. Artemis shrieked and fell backwards.

Jane and the younger girls, who were weeding the vegetable garden beside the chicken coop, tried unsuccessfully not to laugh at her. "You'll get the hang of it eventually," Jane said, coming over and gave her a hand up. "All right, that's enough, girls," she called over the fence. "Go get cleaned up."

The girls gathered up their tools and headed for the shed. Jane and Artemis picked up the egg baskets and headed over to the kitchen. "So are you ready for our little homemade hoe down?" Jane asked with a snarky grin.

Artemis grinned, brushing off her clothes. "I think it's wonderful that you have music and dancing every Saturday. I heard Isabel practicing the other day. She's amazing!"

Jane nodded. "She's very talented. The others are good too, but they have to work at it a little more. Music just seems to flow out of Isabel."

Artemis glanced around as if she was worried someone might be listening. "Why are there so many teenagers here? And they've been here for so long…what happened that caused so many children to become infected all at one time?"

Jane glanced around too and lowered her voice. "You were in England before you came here, right?"

Artemis nodded.

"Is it true what they said in the paper? That some terrorist is back in power?"

Artemis frowned and nodded. "He's called Voldemort. The last information I had he was trying to regroup with his followers and recruit. The papers indicated that some of his top rung were arrested the night they broke into the Ministry. I don't think he's quite strong enough to take power just yet, but now it's open rebellion over there. They're building up to a civil war…But what does he have to do with the kids?"

Jane looked angry. "He's the reason they're werewolves. Rosa told me that back around 1980, their parents offered them to this guy to form some sort of werewolf army. Their families either thought they were squibs or figured they had enough children that it was worth it to sacrifice one. After the guy lost power their families wouldn't acknowledge the children any more, and Britain was terrified to have that many young werewolves on the loose with no one who wanted them. So the Ministry got in touch with MCUSA and asked if they could send the kids to one of the reservations. So here they are. Oscar and Rosa pretty much adopted them. I mean, not legally or anything, but besides them, Grams and Nana were the only other ones here, so they had to step up and be the parents. This res had the fewest people at the time, so that's why they all the kids came here. That's what happened with Ellie and Finn too. Her husband gave Finn over to start a new werewolf army. So Ellie fled the country and applied for amnesty here."

Artemis' eyes were wide with shock. "That's…that's horrific. I've dealt with a lot of terrible people and terrible situations, but…" She suddenly looked very sad, and tried to hide an unexpected tear by swiping at her sticky, sweaty hair again. "I was going to stay and fight," she said softly. "I'd planned to quit my job and my, um…my friends were part of this underground movement against Voldemort. I was going to fight with them."

Jane smiled at her sympathetically. "You know we're not exactly overwhelmed with entertainment options here. So we have nights we might dance, or nights we all play music and sing, or nights we take turns reading books aloud. We're about to start The Lord of the Rings again. Have you ever read it?"

Artemis nodded. "Once, several years ago."

"So the old wizard, Gandalf tells the little Hobbit, Frodo, that all we can decide is what to do with the time that is given to us. That's sort of been our motto here, I guess. None of us really wanted this to happen, but we do the best we can under the circumstances."

"What was your life like…before?" asked Artemis cautiously.

Jane shrugged. "I'm a city girl, not a country girl, so all the gardening and livestock and stuff I learned here. But my husband and I ran a small deli in a wizarding neighborhood in New York. So, the cooking for lots of people isn't too different."

"How does it work? With your husband, I mean? Hawthorne mentioned he had a wife and sons somewhere else too."

"Yeah, our situations are similar. After I was infected, my husband couldn't handle it. The stigma was too much, so he filed for divorce. The putz is married to Miriam Rosenfeld by now. Hawthorne…" Jane sighed, and her voice softened noticeably. "Hawthorne's wife tried to support him. She wrote letters and tried to come visit. But the government doesn't want to make it easy. They pretty much just want us to kill each other off as quickly as possible. So applying for visitation is hard and she kept getting turned down. It all just took its toll on her. So one day Hawthorne wrote and told her it would be easier if she told their sons that he was dead, and to forget about him and move on. There haven't been any letters since then, but she's never divorced him either."

"What about your son?"

"Joel. He's thirteen, but he probably doesn't remember too much about me. He was just three when I came here. I tried to hide it, but somebody turned me in." Jane shook her head and brushed her hands off on her jeans. "That's enough drama for one day. Tonight's dancing. Are you ready?"

Artemis grimaced. "My last night out dancing didn't go that well."

"Oh, that's all right," said Jane. "I didn't even know how to dance at first. You'll learn. It's not too schmaltzy either – mostly square dances and some swing. Hawthorne even taught us some ancient court dance or something one time. Or you can always just help with music if you play or sing. Come on, let's get cleaned up before dinner. Dancing nights we try to dress up a little…keep things interesting," she said, waggling her eyebrows.

Artemis laughed and grabbed the egg basket, following Jane back up to the kitchen. "Jane, listen," she began as they entered the darkened room and set the basked on the counter beside the sink. "I know…I know you, all of you, can't have children. And Ellie said if I didn't think I could raise a child that one of you would be happy to do it. Can you tell me who's the best choice if I decide…? I mean…I don't know what to do. I always wanted to be a mother, but…not like this. I don't even know if I can tell the father about it. That's messed up, right?"

Jane was very quiet for a long moment, staring down at the floor. When she finally looked up her eyes were bright with tears. "I think you should keep her," she said firmly. "We will all help you, and I know it sounds backwards, but I promise you won't find a safer place to raise a child. I would do anything to have my son back, and I cannot in good conscience recommend a mother giving up her child if she's capable of raising it. And you are more than capable. The fact that you're even questioning whether you'd be a good one shows you're better than some."

Remus stepped into Twelve Grimmauld Place out of the clinging mist, and shrugged off his cloak. "Sirius, I'm back!" he called. Remus ran a hand through his damp hair and trudged tiredly toward the stairs.

Sirius came out of his studio and leaned over the stair rail. "How bad was it?"

"Bad. It was giants, and we were almost too late. The place was a mess. Awful injuries. The Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes is putting out to the Muggle newspapers that it was a hurricane."

Sirius just shook his head as he came down the steps, and the two of them headed further down to the kitchen. Sirius started tea, flicking on the radio as he passed it, and Remus sat in a rocking chair by the fire.

Was a time I was his only one
But now I'm the sad and lonely one, lonely
Was I gay, till today
Now he's gone and we're through
Am I blue

"It hasn't played anything other than the song today," Sirius said, sounding slightly apologetic. "But Arthur stopped by and said they finally got Fudge to step down." Sirius grabbed the kettle as it whistled and poured the water over the tea leaves. "Rufus Scrimgeour is the new Minister. Do you know him? Ex-Auror. Kind of looks like a lion."

Remus yawned and nodded. "Kingsley told me. He also told me Scrimgeour remembered you from when you first started training to be an Auror. He's going to try and push through the paperwork for your pardon."

"Brilliant!" cried Sirius, throwing back his head. "I can finally get out of this house and do something useful."

Remus smirked slightly. "Moody wants you to train some before they send you out. He's worried you're too out of practice."

"Psh, out of practice. I'm in great form! Didn't you tell him we've been sparring."

"No. I thought it would be more fun to watch you have to duel Mad-Eye."

Sirius made a face at him, before remembering something. "Emmeline's dead," he said soberly. "Mad-Eye found her this morning after she hadn't checked in."

Remus stared at him. "Wasn't she on Harry's detail this week? Is he ok?"

"Yeah, yeah he's fine. They must have followed her after her shift was over. Dumbledore picked up Harry last night, and he's supposed to drop him off at the Burrow this morning after speaking with Slughorn about coming back as Potions Master."

"I suppose that means Snape will finally get DADA likes he's always wanted."

"But will it stand for teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts or Devoted Adoration of the Dark Arts?" asked Sirius making a disgusted face. "By the way, Molly's asked us for dinner."

Remus nodded, yawning again. "Very well. She probably wants some buffer between Fleur and the rest of them. Arthur said things have been pretty tense since she showed up, and Molly keeps asking Tonks to come 'round, hoping Bill will take an interest in her instead."

Sirius chuckled. "I remember seeing Fleur during the TriWizard Tournament. She's a spicy little thing…driving Molly bonkers I'm sure. And I don't really see Tonks with Bill. She's too down-to-earth, and Bill goes for a bit of glamour I think… Maybe Charlie though…I wonder when he's due for a visit?"

Remus just shook his head. "You're such a busybody."

Sirius shrugged. "I'm a little light on entertainment with my two favorite witches out of town."

Remus frowned. He knew Sirius treated the situation lightly out of his incurable optimism, but he didn't understand what it meant to be with a werewolf pack. The claws of fear and anger rose up and gripped his chest. "I'm knackered," he said, suddenly standing. "I'm going to have a kip before dinner."

Sirius watched him leave the room and sank glumly down at the table with his tea. "Please take care of her," he whispered the uncertain prayer. "If anybody's up there…bring her back for him…please."

** Thanks for reading! Guest, I'll be interested to see if you think the pregnancy plot line works by the time we get to the end or not. :) I'm not sure if I would say I like complicated plot lines across the board, but once I started wondering about how Americans would deal with werewolves it sort of snowballed. And by snowball I mean avalanche. If they're imprisoned on a reservation how many people would live there? What's a reasonable guess on the statistics for lycanthropy infections in the UK compared to the wizarding population? What does that make the infection rate in the US? And what would that lifestyle even look like? Why would Voldemort want to recruit werewolves anyway when the book says Greyback's ultimate goal is actually the overthrow of wizards? If the US is locking up all the werewolves, then they sure wouldn't let any foreign born werewolves into the country. So if Remus couldn't help, who could? How would Remus feel about being unable to help? Which all turned into how many OCs can I put in a story and still keep it moving enough to maintain everyone's interest? lol I guess we shall see... ;) You are all amazingly awesome for hanging in there!