A/N: Sorry for the wait! The past few weeks have been nuts with end of term business and then I did some traveling, and then this chapter was just damn hard to write. We're so close to the rescue!
I got an idea for my next fic recently and wanted to gauge your thoughts. Unfortunately, this one will be in another fandom. I'm kinda embarrassed to admit it, but it's an Ouran High School Host Club fic, so if you're familiar with that manga/anime, would you be interested in a Kyoya/OC story? I recognize that the two fandoms don't really overlap, but if you like comedy animes, you should check it out.
I'm usually completely against writing shoujo genre fics - the reverse harem trope is just too masturbatory for me - but I'd like to think I'm taking it in a different direction. No reverse harem crap. The story will be somewhat Machiavellian and will involve the idea of the political marriage. It'll be a single story this time though - no more sagas for a while I think.
Of course, I'm always open to new ideas if you have any. If there's a story you'd like to see written, shoot me a message, and I'll think it over if I think the idea has potential.
lissaisonfire: Thank you, thank you, thank you! I'm so happy you've enjoyed the story so far! You read through the entire thing really fast haha. Rowan will get saved soon, I promise! Thank you again for the amazing review! Let me know what you think later on!
gpfs17: I'm so glad you're sticking with it! I promise it'll be worth the length haha. Sirius and Mina will certainly get some happiness in the end, as will Rowan. She'll be saved very soon, as you'll see eheh. And I felt bad for the lack of romance, so Harry/Ginny's scene fit in quite nicely. I hope you're doing well too!
wickedgrl123: I love Snape too! I feel like he's a fascinating character to analyze. I probably won't get many opportunities to write in his POV in this, so it was nice to get some of his story in, even if it was just a snippet. More from Danny today! And yes, Rowan is going to be found very very soon...
Eirithdiel: Thank you! Remus is reading the journal now, and you're right about Dumbledore giving up the search b/c he knows Rowan is safe. So good to hear from you, as always!
Worthfull1: Yeah, Cassandra is a character I wanted to look at more but probably won't be able to, but I wanted to wrap up a bit of that plot line from the last story. I would love to see her serve the final blow too. It might come in later eheh. Thank you for the review(s), as always! ^^
Disclaimer: I own none of this!
Source: Rowling, J. K. (2005). Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince. Scholastic: New York.
December 3, 1986
Dear Remus,
I stopped by your house today to see your dad with Mina. He's looking as handsome as ever, as I'm sure you do as well. The house felt a little empty. I guess I'm still not used to being in it without your mum, even after all this time. He said he was thinking about adopting a dog, and we joked that the dog would probably be a better cook than either of us.
We spent the afternoon talking over tea and biscuits, and then Mina cooked us all a large dinner. She made quite a bit so that he would have leftovers. I feel bad about feeling bad for leaving him alone - I'm sure he doesn't like being thought of as the lonely old man. I'm sure you don't either, and I'm sure you're taking good care of him. I guess all of my filial piety is being redirected towards your dad since mine isn't around anymore.
I've almost called him "Dad" on more than a few occasions, and though it's quite funny, it's also a little sad. There was a time long ago when I'd thought I would call him that eventually. I suppose I still think of him the way I did when we were together, but it doesn't quite seem right now to imagine him as a father-in-law. I know he isn't, and he never will be at this point. That makes me a little sad as well.
Make sure to go see your dad sometime this week. His birthday is coming up.
- Rowan
Chapter 53: Thou Canst Hear, Thou Canst Save
I.
It was evident that Danny did not belong here.
Danny Imran sat in the large chieftain's hut, surrounded by men at least twice his size, all covered in impressive pelts and skins. One particularly hard looking man beside him wore a wolf on his shoulders with the face still attached and pulled over his head like a crown. He noticed Danny's timid glance and leered, baring his yellowing teeth. Danny growled at himself inwardly for his weakness and then returned the aggressive gesture, pulling his face into a snarl. The man gave him a tight look, a snort and then turned back to his other companions to speak again in loud, growling tones. Danny let out a silent sigh of relief.
As Cassandra had promised, she'd connected Danny to the inner pack within just a few days of their meeting, and he'd spent the last month working his way slowly, slowly from one figure to the next until he'd finally reached Greyback. It had been easy enough - Danny was, after all, exactly what Greyback sought for in followers: young, angry, and trained in magic. Danny had all the ingredients for a fighting machine.
The past month had been hard, to say the least. His first introduction to Greyback had gone strangely well, but with the Alpha's approval came more scrutiny from his followers. In no time, he'd found himself on more difficult hunts with the most vicious members of the village. He'd always been a strong man, but the physical hardships that these men endured were of another time. For many days, he'd returned to the village beaten and worn with burning legs and more wounds on his feet than he'd ever thought possible. Everything in his body ached. Places he hadn't ever used hurt.
Go back home, you pound dog.
He'd heard it again and again, and he had to admit that the idea was tempting. Back to London, where his flat remained with his warm bed and the loving arms of his parents. The kind-hearted Miss Claire was there with that inviting green elixir. He could sleep forever in London, away from the silence of the wild, in the safe haven of society.
But he had gritted his teeth and endured, for another kind face emerged. Those strong yet little hands, the welcoming smile - he was here for a reason. He'd taken this mission for a reason. He had to find Rowan Delacroix.
There were few mirrors here, but the few times Danny had managed to catch his reflection, he'd been shocked. Beneath the thick beard that had sprouted and the layer of soil on his skin, there was certainly a new hardness to him that he couldn't describe. Perhaps the act of bitterness had rendered itself outwardly, even if it hadn't been genuine.
But despite knowing in his heart where his loyalties lie, Danny couldn't deny the allure of Greyback's philosophy. Seeing the hardships that his brethren faced, it was easy to understand their anger, their propensity for violence. Their presence and isolation here in the north was wrong on all counts. How they'd stayed there for so long, he would never understand. It made complete sense why they'd be angry at the wizarding world, at those who had turned their backs on the werewolves.
As Danny looked around the hut, he saw the wind-worn faces of his brethren, the brothers he still couldn't know. He felt the divide sharply, but it was less severe. Perhaps with more time, he could find his place here. Perhaps with a bit more time, he would forget the comforts of London and learn to sink his roots into the clean soil here.
He caught the dark gaze of the chief, his sharp teeth leering and yellowed. The distance between them remained, but he was closing in.
Perhaps with more time, he would find his way to Fenrir Greyback's side.
II.
Whether it had been built that way, or because he had used magical trickery to make it so, Slughorn's office was much larger than the usual teacher's study. The ceiling and walls had been draped with emerald, crimson, and gold hangings, so that it looked as though they were all inside a vast tent. The room was crowded and stuffy and bathed in the red light cast by an ornate golden lamp dangling from the center of the ceiling in which real fairies were fluttering, each a brilliant speck of light. Loud singing accompanied by what sounded like mandolins issued from a distant corner; a haze of pipe smoke hung over several elderly warlocks deep in conversation, and a number of house-elves were negotiating their way squeakily through the forest of knees, obscured by the heavy silver platters of food they were bearing, so that they looked like little roving tables.
Nearby at a large table of pasties was a mop of dark hair, cleanly combed back with a sparkling butterly pin, its wings fluttering softly in the red light. A girl stood alone in the ruckus, seemingly unperturbed by the singing and caught up in her own head. She wore a dress of deep red, which complemented her olive skin. Her round eyes were narrowed in thought as she seemed to consider which dessert she wanted or if she should simply take them all. Harry did a doubletake at this girl before realizing that he recognized that pensive look.
"Aarini!" he called. The girl jolted with surprise before looking up. Her face lit up at the sight of Harry and Luna and she waved enthusiastically. Harry smiled with relief as he moved over to her with Luna.
"Harry, thank Merlin you're here!" she said happily. "This party is just so dreary. I was just about to take a bunch of pasties back to the tower!" She indicated to a large napkin in her hands that he hadn't noticed before, full of an assortment of treats. The small bag at her waist also seemed to be overflowing with desserts. He wasn't sure if he should be exasperated or impressed.
"Are you here with anyone?" he asked. She rolled her eyes.
"What's his name - Smith? Yeah, that one," she said, jabbing a thumb over her shoulder at a blonde boy in the corner. Harry's nose scrunched up at the sight of the Hufflepuff, who looked to be chatting up another girl in his house, apparently completely forgotten about his date.
"Why the hell would you come with him?" he asked. This question seemed to fluster Aari slightly, as her cheeks puffed slightly with frustration. She looked down for a moment at her pasties and then up at him with a furrowed brow and pouting lips. He frowned.
"Well, the boy I wanted to ask shouted, 'No!' at me before I could even get the question out," she said angrily. Harry's frown deepened.
"Who?" Her entire face seemed to screw up with frustration. She looked back down at her pasties.
"Don't worry about it," she pouted. Harry wanted to sigh. Why were girls so hard to figure out?
"Harry, m'boy!"
Harry grimaced as he heard a booming voice shout his name across the room, and before he could even look up, he felt a grip on his arm so tight that he might have been catching a ride via Disapparition again. Harry snatched Luna and Aari's hands before he could be swept away.
"My treasure!" cried Aari, as a few pasties flew from her hands. Harry shot her an apologetic look as they were yanked into the center of the party.
"Harry, I'd like you to meet Eldred Worple, an old student of mine, author of Blood Brothers: My Life Amongst the Vampires — and, of course, his friend Sanguini," said Horace Slughorn grandly. He grinned down at Harry, who could only return the smile weakly.
Worple, who was a small, stout, bespectacled man, grabbed Harry's hand and shook it enthusiastically; the vampire Sanguini, who was tall and emaciated with dark shadows under his eyes, merely nodded. He looked rather bored. A gaggle of girls was standing close to him, looking curious and excited.
"Harry Potter, I am simply delighted!" said Worple, peering shortsightedly up into Harry's face. "I was saying to Professor Slughorn only the other day, 'Where is the biography of Harry Potter for which we have all been waiting?'"
"Er," said Harry, "were you?"
"Just as modest as Horace described!" said Worple. "But seriously"— his manner changed; it became suddenly businesslike — "I would be delighted to write it myself. People are craving to know more about you, dear boy, craving! If you were prepared to grant me a few interviews, say in four- or five-hour sessions... Why, we could have the book finished within months. And all with very little effort on your part, I assure you. Ask Sanguini here if it isn't quite — Sanguini, stay here!" added Worple, suddenly stern, for the vampire had been edging toward the nearby group of girls, a rather hungry look in his eye. "Here, have a pasty," said Worple, seizing one from a passing elf and stuffing it into Sanguini's hand before turning his attention back to Harry. "My dear boy, the gold you could make, you have no idea —"
"I'm definitely not interested," said Harry firmly. "And I've actually already promised my biography to my friend Aarini here," he said, gesturing to the small girl at his side. Aari jumped with surprise, eyes widening. She looked at Harry dumbstruck, and he smiled warmly at her. Her mouth seemed to gape and form words dumbly in silence for a moment before spreading into a blinding grin. She nodded her head enthusiastically, jutting her chin out towards Worple.
"That's right. If anyone is writing the Harry Potter story, it will be me!" she declared. Worple frowned deeply, pushing his glasses up his nose to better scrutinize this bold girl. He looked her up and down with a sweep of the eyes. She stood defiantly, free hand on her hip. The other hand held what was left of her pasties like a trophy.
"And who might you be?" asked Worple. Slughorn laughed and clapped a hand to Aari's shoulder.
"Eldred, this is another student of mine, Aarini Farago. Her parents are Healer Lescos Farago and Professor Amrit Kohli," he said proudly. Worple's eyes widened with recognition, his entire demeanor changing.
"Really? Now, that is something!" he said. "And you are interested in journalism, Ms. Farago? How wonderful! If you are interested in an apprenticeship after graduation, we should talk-"
"Sorry, Professor, but I think we see a friend of ours over there. Talk to you later!" said Harry, making one last ditch effort to escape. He yanked Aari away towards Luna, who had already wandered off dazedly to dance under the floating fairies a distance away.
"Did you really mean that about your biography, Harry?" piped up Aari as they pushed into the crowd. Harry nodded.
"Of course I did. I don't think anyone else could write it better," he said. She beamed toothily up at him so brightly that he was sure her face would break with strain. Harry smiled back but then whipped around at the glimpse of a long mane of brown hair disappearing between what looked like two members of the Weird Sisters.
"Hermione! Hermione!" he called. The girl whipped around and sighed with relief. She smiled.
"Harry! There you are, thank goodness! Hi, Aari, Luna!" she said happily. Harry turned to see that Luna had indeed danced back over to them with a serene smile.
"What's happened to you?" asked Harry, for Hermione looked distinctly disheveled, rather as though she had just fought her way out of a thicket of Devil's Snare.
"Oh, I've just escaped — I mean, I've just left Cormac," she said tiredly. "Under the mistletoe," she added in explanation, as Harry continued to look questioningly at her.
"Serves you right for coming with him," he told her severely. Hermione shrugged.
"I thought he'd annoy Ron most," said Hermione dispassionately.
"I debated for a while about Zacharias Smith, but I thought, on the whole... and then Aari beat him to me before I could —"
"You considered Smith?" said Harry, revoked. Aari gagged melodramatically.
"She can have him. I'd have rather come alone," she said huffily.
"Yes, I did, and I'm starting to wish I had, Aari. McLaggen makes Grawp look a gentleman. Let's go this way, we'll be able to see him coming, he's so tall…" The three of them made their way over to the other side of the room, scooping up goblets of mead on the way. Harry wasn't about to let Hermione off the hook just yet. As soon as they'd made their way to a quieter corner, he turned on her again.
"Let's get something straight. Are you planning to tell Ron that you interfered at Keeper tryouts?" he asked accusingly. Hermione raised her eyebrows.
"Do you really think I'd stoop that low?" Harry looked at her shrewdly.
"Hermione, if you can ask out McLaggen —"
"There's a difference," said Hermione with dignity. "I've got no plans to tell Ron anything about what might, or might not, have happened at Keeper tryouts."
"Good," said Harry fervently. "Because he'll just fall apart again, and we'll lose the next match —"
"Quidditch!" said Hermione angrily. "Is that all boys care about? Cormac hasn't asked me one single question about myself, no! I've just been treated to 'A Hundred Great Saves Made by Cormac McLaggen' nonstop ever since — oh no, here he comes!" She moved so fast it was as though she had Disapparated; one moment she was there, the next, she had squeezed between two guffawing witches and vanished.
"Seen Hermione?" asked McLaggen, forcing his way through the throng a minute later.
"No, sorry," said Harry, and he turned quickly to join in Luna's conversation, forgetting for a split second to whom she was talking.
The buggy-eyed, tinkling form of Sybil Trelawney reared up in his line of sight, and before he could rectify his mistake, he was spotted. He grimaced noticeably as her large gaze fell upon him, widening even further.
"Harry Potter!" said Professor Trelawney in deep, vibrant tones, noticing him for the first time.
"Oh, hello," said Harry unenthusiastically.
"My dear boy!" she said in a very carrying whisper. "The rumors! The stories! 'The Chosen One'! Of course, I have known for a very long time… The omens were never good, Harry… But why have you not returned to Divination? For you, of all people, the subject is of the utmost importance!"
"Ah, Sybill, we all think our subject's most important!" said a loud voice, and Slughorn appeared at Professor Trelawney s other side, his face very red, his velvet hat a little askew, a glass of mead in one hand and an enormous mince pie in the other. "But I don't think I've ever known such a natural at Potions!" said Slughorn, regarding Harry with a fond, if bloodshot, eye. "Instinctive, you know — like his mother! I've only ever taught a few with this kind of ability, I can tell you that, Sybill — why even Severus —" And to Harry's horror, Slughorn threw out an arm and seemed to scoop Snape out of thin air toward them. "Stop skulking and come and join us, Severus!" hiccuped Slughorn happily. "I was just talking about Harry's exceptional potion-making! Some credit must go to you, of course, you taught him for five years!"
Trapped, with Slughorns arm around his shoulders, Snape looked down his hooked nose at Harry, his black eyes narrowed.
"Funny, I never had the impression that I managed to teach Potter anything at all."
"Well, then, it's natural ability!" shouted Slughorn. "You should have seen what he gave me, first lesson, Draught of Living Death — never had a student produce finer on a first attempt! I don't think even you or Rowan Delacroix could have done better!"
"Really?" said Snape quietly, his eyes still boring into Harry, who felt a certain disquiet. The last thing he wanted was for Snape to start investigating the source of his newfound brilliance at Potions. His lip then curled up into a soft smile, and Harry felt heat spread up the back of his neck, as if preparing him for a fight. "Pity about Delacroix though... she's been missing for how long now?"
Harry felt Snape's words hit him straight in the gut. His fists clenched painfully as he heard the man's words. His eyes narrowed, lips trembling with anger. Snape peered down at him over his long hooked nose with a mockingly polite smile. Slughorn shook his head sadly.
"Yes, yes, it is such a shame. And of all people!" he said morosely. He seemed genuinely upset at the thought of Harry's godmother. "Such a brilliant and wonderful girl! Really, incredibly kind and gifted. For her to go in such a way -"
"They're going to find her though," said Harry firmly. Slughorn frowned slightly with confusion at Harry's interjection. "She's just missing. I'm sure they're going to find her any day now." Slughorn gave him a sort of pitying, sad smile.
"Harry, my boy, your optimism is admirable, but I must tell you that it's been quite a while since they declared her missing. Indeed, most people in the last war were considered dead after just a week-"
"But you said it yourself, didn't you?" pushed Harry. Anger swirled riotously in his gut. His godmother's burning gaze seared through his mind. Her writhing form was forever burned into his memory. She wasn't dead yet. He would know it if she were! "She's a brilliant witch. If no one's found her yet, it means that Lord Voldemort - " Slughorn winced - "- is keeping her for some reason! I'm sure she's still alive!" Harry held Slughorn's gaze defiantly. The older wizard looked over Harry's face with an expression of utmost sorrow. The anger in Harry's gut thrashed in retaliation. He was the one who didn't understand, not Harry!
"I think Mr. Potter is right."
Harry's head whipped around to see Snape peering down at him again with a neutral expression. Harry and Slughorn both frowned. Snape's lips twitched upward into an almost smile. "Most victims of the Dark Lord are found within days of their passing. Very few people are simply lost. Surely, if Delacroix's body hasn't been found yet, it means that she is still alive somewhere." Harry's lungs seemed to still. He held Snape's gaze disbelievingly. The wizard didn't not so much as blink. He then looked at Slughorn. "Yes, I believe that the right people -" - Something about the way he emphasized the word - "- will find her soon enough."
Slughorn looked utterly baffled. He shook his head and gave a small sort of exasperated snort.
"Well, I suppose I cannot argue with you, Severus. If you believe that she will be found, I suppose all we can do is wait for her to be found," he said. He gave that sad smile again and then looked down at their glasses. His face lit up. "Ah, dear fellows, your glasses are empty! We must fix that!" he cried. He clapped his hands, and a small house elf appeared at his side apparently out of thin air. The elf handed up a crystal carafe of golden mead, which Slughorn doled out liberally. He then lifted his glass up for a toast.
"To Rowan Delacroix!" he said simply. Harry looked into the sparkling facets of his goblet and the amber liquid that sloshed inside. He thought of his godmother's golden gaze.
"To Rowan Delacroix," he and Snape said.
III.
Danny shivered.
The air here was cold, much colder than Danny had ever known. Even the harshest of winters at Hogwarts couldn't compare to frigid chill here in the mountains. He pulled the pelt around his shoulders tighter. He understood now why the men here wore such heavy furs. They weren't just for glory or rank; they were for survival.
Inside the chieftain's tent came the booming laughter and voices of drunk men. A few female voices could be heard, ringing high and giggling through the growls and a few instruments played through it all. Danny sipped at his own mug and shivered again as a surge of heat trickled down his throat. The crudely made liquor was bitter and harsh - nothing like the creamy sweet butterbeer of civilization - but it certainly helped one keep warm. He let the heat spread through his chest as he looked up towards the sky again.
The moon was waxing again, bright and white in the sky. Out here, it even seemed blue at times. It glowed high in the washes of purple and indigo, splattering across the expansive plane above him. In the city, the moon had always held a sense of dread for him, but here, he could nearly lose himself in the infinite stretch of night sky. Even as he imagined the creaking pain of the impending full moon, he could almost pretend that as he closed his eyes to lose himself to the transformation, he might only be falling into the sky.
"Imran."
Danny looked up. His throat tightened as his gaze met a pair of dark eyes and a sharp grin - Greyback.
"Chief," he greeted with surprise. He hadn't even heard the tent open. Greyback's grin broadened slightly, and Danny patted himself on the back silently. He'd discovered early on that Greyback loved being addressed as "Chief," and he'd quickly used the knowledge to his advantage.
Greyback sat down with a slight grunt next to Danny without an invitation, but he was hardly one for formalities. Greyback looked up into the sky.
"Don't get stars like this in London, do you?" he asked. Danny shook his head.
"No, I'd never seen anything like this before coming here," he agreed. Greyback nodded with approval.
"Makes you feel like a real wolf, don't it?" he said. Danny nodded quietly.
The two men sat in silence for a moment. All the while, the hairs on the back of Danny's neck stood on end. But he'd been waiting for this moment, this opportunity. He wouldn't allow himself to ruin it now.
"So you never told me what brought you out here," Greyback finally asked. Internally, Danny roared with victory. Greyback wasn't a man concerned with the motivations of his followers unless he wanted to utilize them. This was what he'd been working towards the past month.
"Same reason most come out here, I suppose. I needed to be with my own kind," he said. The words were strange to hear in his voice. "His own kind"... were they his people? He certainly didn't feel it when he'd arrived, and there were still times when he felt the distance between these gray people and himself, but more and more he began to feel that perhaps he did belong here, out in the wild.
"Your own kind," Greyback echoed. The way his brow arched said that he didn't really believe it. Danny's stomach tightened.
"Yeah, I mean..." he started rambling. Greyback wasn't a dumb or sentimental man. Hadn't he planned for this? He needed something more substantial than that! "Well, not 'my own kind,' per se... I mean, I suppose... I just needed to get away from other people who weren't like me."
This seemed to be a more interesting answer to Greyback. His brow arched again with intrigue. Danny couldn't mess this up now. He needed to get this right.
"It was just hard... being surrounded by people who didn't get it... what it's like to be a werewolf. They just don't understand. Even the people who didn't know what I was... it's like wearing someone else's skin and hoping that no one notices the face you're wearing isn't yours. And those who do know..." Danny thought of the heartbroken faces of his parents, of his siblings. "They don't understand," he said dumbly. Greyback's expression remained hard. "I just figured... Well, it'd be better to suffer here and be free than to spend the rest of my life being a second-rate citizen. Even if I never feel like I'm a part of the pack here, it's better than being a beggar there."
Greyback listened in silence as Danny finished his rambling explanation. The dark sharp gaze of the larger man felt hot on Danny's face. He felt his throat tighten with embarrassment and mild panic as he went over his own words in his head. He'd prepared for this, hadn't he? When had he lost his ability to remain calm?
"How were you bitten?" asked Greyback suddenly. Danny fought the strange way his stomach lurched at the question. Remus had asked him that. Healers had asked him that. They'd all had the same expression - resignation. But Greyback... he smiled, eyes glinting strangely in the dim light, as if elated by a thrilling tale. It was wide, crazed. Danny pulled his face into a grimace and was surprised at how genuine the anger felt.
"The Ministry," he breathed. The words ghosted from his lips without any hesitation.
This, for a turn, surprised Greyback. His dark eyes widened, mouth parting slightly. Danny's stomach lurched again as the memories came rushing back. Black eyes and sharp teeth - how could he not look into Greyback's face and shudder with terror?
"The Ministry," Greyback echoed. Danny nodded.
"They..." he started. He swallowed hard as he felt the memories begin to push up towards his mouth. Whispered threats, dark promises... how many nights had he dreamed of the words coming loose, of waking to find himself within the hands of those who could punish him? Even the thought of slipping and telling people the terrible things that had happened kept him awake at night.
But this man, this wolf... he would believe him. He was the enemy, Danny reminded himself, but he knew. He knew the terrible things of which the Ministry was capable. He'd seen it all firsthand.
"I was in a special division at the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures... in the Beast Division." Greyback didn't speak, his eyes still fixed fiercely on Danny. Danny looked away, focusing on the bottle in his hands. In the dark night of the wild, the liquid inside glinted dark and deep.
"There are researchers who believe that there is a key to controlling the transformation cycle in order to utilize the werewolf's superhuman capabilities," he continued. "Not to cure the werewolf, but to harness it." His chest was painfully tight. He could hear Greyback's breath coming heavily now. He couldn't be sure if it was with anger or excitement.
"You were a test subject," said Greyback. Danny shook his head.
"No, I was a security specialist," he corrected. Greyback's eyes widened.
"Security?" he breathed. Danny nodded grimly.
"'Cleanup' would be more accurate," he said. Greyback's gaze remained wide and wondrous. Danny's throat still felt tight. His hands were sweating despite the frigid cold. He gripped his mug even tighter.
"The nature of magical experimentation is that most attempts fail," he continued quietly. "Most experiments don't yield anything, and most test subjects either experience no changes... or their conditions worsen." Greyback's breathing was ragged. Clouds puffed from his nostrils as his hot breath met the icy wind.
"I..." breathed Danny. "I cleaned up the failures."
Danny felt his pupils dilate as the memories of blood-matted fur emerged. The harsh breaths of Greyback beside him echoed at the back of his mind. They mingled into the silent memories of wheezing breaths, rolling eyes and sterile light. It was always cold there too, in the deep hallways of the Ministry.
"The experiments ranged and varied... I often set up the environments with protective spells to help cage the test subjects and then I cleaned the test sites of any remnants of magic or... or worse," he continued. "It's amazing how blood vanishes away just as easily as anything else," he added bitterly.
"It wasn't a difficult job. I had strange hours, but it paid well. Both of my parents are immigrants without any political connections here, so finding a decent position at the Ministry was difficult, even with my skills. I saw the job I had as a sort of stepping stone to something a bit more reputable. If I did good work there for a few years, I'd slowly move up, perhaps to do my own research eventually. I got on with the researchers and my superiors. I never broke my secrecy code. It only seemed like a matter of time until I was promoted up to a more normal job.
"But one night, I slipped up."
Danny kept his gaze upward, unfocused and dazed. The night sky seemed to swirl endlessly above him. He thought of dark eyes, glinting teeth. The silence of the mountains seemed to engulf him.
"I had gotten careless during my time there. Like I said, it wasn't a particularly challenging job. Once I had turned my conscience away from the unsavory nature of my position and whatever moral dilemmas I felt, the rest was easy. I could pretend that the limp beast forms I was disposing of were just that - beasts; they weren't people in my mind. I could pretend that they were just strange animals. It was sad to think that way too, but I reasoned that we were doing a good service to the community with our research. If there were casualties along the way, it didn't matter. I had no power to change it, so why worry about it?"
Danny swallowed.
"But sometimes..." he whispered. His chest rose and fell. He thought of quivering forms, broken on cold tile. "Sometimes... sometimes I had to wait."
Greyback's gaze was hot and boring. He felt as if the larger man's hand was gripped around his throat with anticipation. Had those people ever felt the same?
"Wait for what?" breathed Greyback. Danny couldn't stop the trembling of his lips.
"For them... for them to stop moving."
Greyback took a sharp exhale through his nostrils, and Danny looked down at his hands. They held his glass of spirits, trembling. The liquid inside reflected the deep, dark night sky like a dark abyss. It rippled slightly under his grasp.
"I..." he started again. Something felt like it was lodged in his throat. He swallowed, but the knot remained. "I didn't wait long enough... I made a mistake, and..." His eyes squeezed shut. There was the sound of snarling, thrashing. His hand jerked as it tried to grasp his chest, but he forced it back down to his lap. The scars at his chest stung as he remembered teeth and claws. "It was still... he was still alive."
Greyback exhaled slowly with comprehension.
"And you were bitten." Danny nodded jerkily.
"I've never told anyone," he admitted. The truth of it astounded even himself. He'd never told anyone, not even Rowan or Remus. Wouldn't they have understood? Greyback's eyes narrowed almost viciously.
"Why not?" he snarled. Danny smiled bitterly.
"Who would've believed me?" he asked quietly. He stared down into his mug still. "And they..." Beady eyes, harsh words... how many times had the harsh words played over in his mind?
"They threatened you," hissed Greyback. Danny's lips tightened.
"I couldn't tell anyone," he whispered. His words smoked upward towards the sky as they fell from his mouth. "No one... it was like... like drowning. Everywhere I went... I felt like I was slowly drowning."
The silent night overtook them. Danny kept his gaze upward. He wondered if any of those poor people had ever seen the sky like this. Had they ever even seen the full moon?
"The Ministry did this to you," said Greyback. Danny's lips tightened at the dull tone of the man beside him. Sitting here in the middle of nowhere with Fenrir Greyback - he knew how wrong it was, and yet telling him his story had been more natural than he could have ever imagined. Wasn't Greyback a monster?
Wasn't he?
"Join me."
Danny turned quickly to see Greyback's gaze hot upon him. Instead of the rage he'd expected to see, there was a twisted sort of glee in his features - eyes wide and sharp teeth pulled into a wide grin. The strange comfort he'd felt immediately fell away. This man... no, this werewolf - he wasn't the ally he'd been looking for. His mission came rushing back from the pits of his mind. His stomach lurched.
"What do you mean?" he asked carefully. Greyback's grin pulled even wider somehow.
"The Ministry pigs who did this to you... we can find the retribution you deserve - that all of our kind deserve! We can find the bastards who dare torture our kind," he breathed, dark eyes glinting. "Join me, and I promise you that you will feel your vengeance tenfold. You can experience the justice that is owed."
Danny held Greyback's gaze, heart pounding in his head. Justice, retribution... his head swam with the seductive sound of Greyback's words. How many nights had he woken to find himself bare and in pain, only to remember the faces of those who had cursed him with this disease and then thrown him to the side? His bones ached profoundly in his hands. His fingers flexed, spit pooling in his mouth dazedly. He thought of men like Remus Lupin who had suffered, of Rowan Delacroix who had worked to see that suffering end. He saw the looming figure in front of him and imagined himself standing above his limp form in the sterile white light of the Ministry. He reached his hand forward.
"Where do I sign?"
IV.
Remus sighed.
A mug of steaming hot tea clunked down in front of him as he sat at his father's kitchen table. Lyall moved back to the counter to pour himself a mug, and Remus took the moment of peace to look around the kitchen.
There were messy doodles and little pieces of evidence scattered here and there that signified that children lived in this house. Remus smiled softly. Even when he'd been a child, the house had never looked so lively. He'd always been a strangely neat and reserved child. Even his drawings had been a bit precocious for a child. He wondered if his mother had ever wanted something more typical like this, with messy paper airplanes and toy broomsticks laying about. She probably would have wanted another child if it had not been for his condition. He felt that familiar pang of guilt.
"Where is everyone?" asked Remus.
"Carole retired about an hour ago, and Alfred and Isaac are putting the little ones to bed," said Lyall as he sat down at the table. Remus smiled softly as he imagined little Archie and Chaplin thrashing about in protest.
"How is Lettie doing?" asked Remus.
"Much better now. Whatever Mina did, it really has made a tremendous impact on Lettie," said Lyall fondly. "She still has her moments, but she's been in much better spirits, especially when she hears that Mina is coming by." Remus frowned.
"Has she?" he asked. He supposed she'd been stepping out more frequently as of late, but he'd never thought that she would be coming here to see the children. Had she ever shown any interest in children before? He supposed she was close to them from being with Rowan's family all these years. He should have put the two together. Lyall smiled amusedly.
"Yes, every week," he said. "Much better than I can say about other certain people," he said mildly, taking a sip from his tea. Remus grimaced.
"Sorry," he said contritely. Lyall smiled still. "It's just been... well, I've been all over the place... you know." Lyall nodded knowingly.
"Yes, I know it's been hard without Rowan around," he said softly. His smile faltered slightly. "I take it the search has still not been fruitful." Remus felt his chest tighten.
"It feels like everyone's given up except for me. Even Arthur seems like he's ready to give up the search. I don't know what to do," he said quietly. "Dumbledore's officially calling off the search." Lyall's face contorted unexpectedly with anger.
"What?" he hissed. Remus flinched. He hadn't seen his father so angry in many years. He'd lost much of the serious temper in his old age, but it seemed that it still lingered.
"It's been too long, and I have to admit that if it were anyone else we would've stopped the search months ago. It's just because it's Rowan that we've continued this long," said Remus quietly. His throat tightened with guilt. He imagined poor Emmeline's limp body, blue and pale from the water of the Thames. They had barely looked for her at all. No wonder Hestia had been so resentful. Had it been fair of them to push so hard for Rowan when they'd barely given Emmeline a second thought?
"Remus, if you think she's still out there, then you have to keep pushing," said Lyall firmly. Remus shook his head dismally, looking down at the table.
"I can keep looking all I want on my own, but without the others..." he said softly. "I can't do it by myself. I can't..."
I can't protect her.
"Oh, Remus."
Remus and Lyall looked up to see Alfred standing in the doorway. Remus' stomach lurched. Alfred's hair was liberally peppered now with gray, his handsome face more lined than ever. Remus had promised Alfred and the Delacroixs that he would protect Rowan, hadn't he? How many times had he promised to look after her? Had he ever followed through on that promise?
"Is everything okay?" asked Alfred, eyebrows furrowing with concern. Remus pushed a smile to his face.
"Yeah, just catching up with Dad," he said falsely. "How are the kids?" Alfred gave an exasperated groan.
"Riotous. Isaac is giving Sophie and Sully a bath, and they are not having it," he said. "I swear, even Winnie was easier to bathe than those two, and that girl practically lived in dirt." Remus let out a genuine laugh as he thought of a tiny mop of black hair thrashing around in the garden of the Delacroix household. In all the pictures of her and James from childhood, they had indeed always appeared to have had a layer of grime coated on them in one form or another. The laughter was dampened slightly as he remembered that those photos had all been left behind in the fire. Had they put out the flames before those photos had been burned? He made a note to go back and try to find them.
Despite the heaviness that lingered in his heart, Remus spoke softly with the two older men for about an hour longer over tea. Eventually, Isaac came down to join them, looking haggard from dealing with the toddlers. He smiled gently at the sight of Remus at the table, and Remus was reminded once again of Rowan's hold on the people around him. Her influence seemed to know no bounds. As he left his father's house later that night, he wondered if his grasp could reach her wherever she was now, as her hold on him remained to be ever-present.
Remus took a deep breath and looked up at the sky. The moon was waxing once again. He hadn't seen the stars look so bright in a very long time. He closed his eyes and exhaled, imagining the lights of London.
The sky above London was not so clear as the one he saw farther north. Instead of the clear bright moon, Remus was greeted with a heavy gray blanket, dense and unforgiving. It swirled dark and ominous above as Remus walked down the quiet street of Grimmauld Place. The horns of cars from the distant busier streets echoed slightly between the buildings, but the small street upon which Headquarters stood was mostly quiet. Remus kept his hand on his wand within his pocket, but he knew, rather than felt, that he was alone on the street. He wasn't sure if he found it relieving or not.
The door clicked behind him as he stepped into the old House of Black, and he sighed, leaning against it for a moment. What had been a moldy, dingy foyer just months ago was now a warm and welcoming entrance with fresh crimson paint and bright lights. Remus thought of the walls of Rowan's old childhood bedroom and wondered if Mina had chosen this color with Rowan in mind. Remus knew that the red walls were probably gone now, as young Gillian had taken Rowan's room as she'd grown. No doubt the headstrong girl would have wanted something of her own. something about it was both comforting and depressing at once.
Remus frowned. The house was quiet, even for this hour. Sirius and Mina were not early setters, and they certainly had not been going to bed early over the past months. No, if he were this awake, then those two were certainly still up and about. There should be other Order members around too, most likely. Why was the house so quiet. Remus strained his ears and heard some hushed voices from the kitchen. He recognized a particularly excited tone as belonging to Sirius. He pushed off the door and made his way towards the warm kitchen.
As he pushed open the door, Remus stopped in the doorway with a frown at the sight. Sirius, Mina, and Claire were huddled together, hunched over a map of somewhere he didn't recognize. Remus paused at the glinting look in their eyes as the they all looked up. Sirius had a spark in his gaze that he hadn't seen in many months. Mina, too, seemed unable to sit still herself, almost trembling with something intangible. The room was heavy with something he couldn't quite grasp. He felt it rolling off them overwhelmingly. A tiny piece of paper was clutched in Claire's pale hands. Her large eyes were glowing with unshed tears.
"Moony," Sirius breathed, "we've found her."
