Wednesday 3 August, 1994:
"It's beautiful."
Lena smiled as she watched Markellos gaze at the Medallion of Circe with awe.
"And now it's yours," she said. "I assume you've already got some security in place for wherever you're going to keep it?"
"Naturally." He glanced at her. "You know the Vettoris are out for your blood – there's already a price on your head." His eyes flicked over to Remus, who was leaning against the kitchen bench. "And your 'unknown associate'."
They had decided it would be safer for Markellos to pick up the Medallion at the Swiss house, instead of taking it to Mykon's Grove, where undoubtedly the Vettori family had people waiting. Lena suspected they were less interested in reclaiming the Medallion, and more in getting her. She was unsure, however, of whether the Vettoris just wanted her dead, or were demanding the pleasure of doing it themselves.
"Yeah, I got a message from Valeriya shortly before you came, asking me just what ridiculously stupid thing I'd done to piss them off," said Lena wryly.
Markellos chuckled. "Well, I, for one, am extremely appreciative of that 'ridiculously stupid thing'. Which I suppose brings us to the issue of the remainder of your payment." He bent over to the side and opened his suitcase. From within it, he pulled out a small bronze chest, and handed it to Lena. "I believe you should find the agreed upon amount for both your and Mr Lupin's fees inside."
Lena opened up the chest and studied the contents. Remus moved to stand behind Lena and peered over her shoulder at the piles of coins.
"That's more than an entire year of a Hogwarts' teacher's wage," he murmured.
Satisfied that Markellos had held up his end of the bargain, Lena closed the chest. "That all appears to be in order. Thank you."
"Then I believe that concludes our present business," said Markellos, smiling.
Lena nodded. "May I offer you anything to drink or eat before you leave?"
Markellos considered this for a moment. "A drink would do nicely. Non-alcoholic, of course," he added. "Best to have all my wits about me for this journey home."
"How about pumpkin juice?" offered Lena, standing up.
"Perfect."
As Lena fixed Markellos his drink, Remus told her, "I'm just popping to the bathroom." He pecked her on the cheek and nodded at Markellos, then left the kitchen.
It had just been the two of them in the house – until Markellos had arrived – since the previous afternoon, when Sârbu had come to pick up Koning. The departure of their captive had relieved both Lena and Remus, but had also discomforted the latter, the knowledge that the Dutch wizard was most likely off to meet his end clearly weighing on his mind. Lena had debated whether to address the issue with him again, and had decided against it, worried about the argument it might cause. Subsequently, the topics of Koning and Sârbu had not been mentioned again, and Lena was tentatively hoping things between her and Remus would return to normal, especially once they arrived back home at the Lestrange Estate the following night.
When Lena had filled a goblet with juice, she brought it back over to Markellos, and noticed that he was watching her unusually intently. He continued to study her as she took her seat again.
"Something wrong?" she inquired.
There was a pause, before Markellos told her, "I did bring with me something you might be interested in. As an alternative to the rest of your share of the fee, perhaps." He pulled out a thin, rectangular, wooden case from his suitcase, and slid it across the table to her.
Lena raised an eyebrow, but undid the latch on the side of the case and opened it. Inside was a bundle of parchment tied together. The sheet on top was blank except for one small drawing in its centre.
It was the symbol of the Orkístike.
Recoiling, her eyes snapped to Markellos, whose expression remained impassive as he sipped his pumpkin juice. As far as she knew, he wasn't aware that the Orb had ever come into her possession, but no doubt he remembered her fascination with Hecate from before it had.
Pursing her lips, she gingerly picked up the bundle and untied it. Laying the top sheet to one side, she carefully looked through the rest. The parchment was ancient, clearly held together by many preservation spells. They were full of writing, but in a language Lena didn't recognise, although it reminded her of Sinaitic script – which suggested it was at least three thousand years old.
"What am I looking at, Markellos?" she asked quietly, afraid of what her own instincts were telling her.
"A recount from Hecate's final days, as written by her acolyte and original founder of the Orkístike, Astris," he answered. "At least, that is what it is believed to be – it has never been translated."
Lena stared at him. "How did you get them?"
"I'm afraid that's confidential information," said Markellos smoothly. "But I have no use for them, other than as a priceless memento of one of the great sorceresses in my country's history. If you, however, maintain the same passionate interest for Hecate that you had as a child, I suspect you might be able to learn more from it." He tilted his head to the side, looking at her curiously. "What do you say?"
Shaking her head in disbelief, Lena told him, "Markellos, there are people who would literally kill for this! The Orkístike, for example."
Markellos frowned. "The Orkístike haven't existed for a thousand years."
"That's what I thought," she replied. "But then I ran into a member last week."
"Really?" Markellos stroked his beard. "Well, that is... intriguing."
Lena looked down at the documents. "And you would just give it to me," she muttered.
"In lieu of the rest of your payment, yes," said Markellos. "But if you're not interested..."
Interested? Lena was enthralled. But there was also a loud, internal voice telling her to stuff the bundle of parchment back in its case, lock it up, and tell Markellos she refused to have it in her vicinity ever again. She had spent the last seven years struggling to climb back up the rabbit hole of Hecate and the Orb – how could she even consider letting herself fall down it again? She had promised Dumbledore and Remus that she was done with the Orb; more than that, she had promised herself.
But these ancient documents held an untold wealth of magical knowledge. And the pursuit of that sort of knowledge was exactly what had driven Lena her entire life. It was who she was.
At last, she looked back up at Markellos.
"I'll take them."
Friday 5 August, 1994:
Lena sat at her desk in the second-floor study of the Lestrange house, staring at the shut wooden case that was sitting upon it. Her arms were folded, but her fingers relentlessly twitched.
Remus was still asleep in their bed, exhausted after all the travel of yesterday. She, on the other hand, had barely slept a wink. How could she, with the contents of the case occupying her mind so wholly – particularly, the question of whether to begin her attempt to translate them or not.
She had accepted the documents, yes. But as soon as Markellos had left, she had started to regret the choice. Because once again, she had a secret she could not bring herself to tell Remus.
'You're being an idiot,' she told herself. 'You've read more than enough stories to know that this sort of secret keeping, this failure to communicate properly, is a sure-fire way to destroy a relationship. Just tell him everything when he wakes up – the nightmares you keep having about Voldemort and Harry, your meeting with Theodora, taking these documents from Markellos.'
'No!' cried a different, more distressed, internal voice. 'That could ruin everything! He loves you because despite everything, you try to be better, to be good. What if he thinks this is a step backwards? What if that makes him angry – or worse, disappointed? What if finding out that you've been lying to him breaks his trust in you?'
'You can't keep these things a secret from him forever,' argued the more rational voice. 'He will find out eventually – better to do it sooner than later, and to hear it from your own mouth rather than someone else's.'
Lena suddenly leapt out of her chair, and began to agitatedly pace around the study, wringing her hands.
She had always kept secrets. That had been a large, intrinsic part of her identity, especially while at Hogwarts. Everybody had known her parents were convicted Death Eaters imprisoned in Azkaban, so when it came to divulging the information about her that she could control, she had been particular about who knew what. Even the people she was closest to didn't know everything – Harry was unaware of the Orb and how she had killed Irina, while Maggie and Rolf were in the dark about her childhood bond with Voldemort.
But with Remus, it was supposed to be different. They were together, partners in life – they shouldn't have secrets, such enormous secrets, between them.
Lena didn't want to lie to Remus. She loved him with every bit of her heart, her head, her body, her soul. And he loved her so completely too, even the terrible parts. Nonetheless, surely someone as goodhearted Remus had a line he could not cross, a depth to which he would refuse to sink.
If Lena went there, that didn't mean he would stop loving her. But she knew all too well it was possible to both love and despise someone at the same time. And she couldn't bear the thought of Remus one day feeling the same way towards her that she did towards Voldemort.
Frustration was boiling over inside of Lena. Desperate to let some of it out, she unthinkingly lashed a fist out and punched the wall. Pain immediately shot through her hand. She cradled it, gazing at the bloody graze across the knuckles. Somehow, it restored at least a pretence of calmness in her mind.
She crossed back to her desk-chair, and slumped down into it. Closing her eyes, she let her head loll back.
'I'm fucked either way,' she thought. 'And I always will be. Because being fucked over by my own decisions – more than pursuing knowledge, more than keeping secrets... that's who I am."
Monday 8 August, 1994:
"You're really sure about this?" Remus asked Lena, worried.
"It'll be fine," she promised. "I've double-checked the Estate's borders: there's nothing getting in or out tonight."
Instead of locking him in the house's basement for tonight's full moon, as Remus had been expecting, Lena had suggested that the wolf have free-reign to traverse the Estate's expansive grounds. She was hoping that his alter-ego might be less angry with him if it felt less caged.
"All right," said Remus, "but I'm not agreeing to you being outside with me. That's just ridiculous."
"Ugh." Lena rolled her eyes. "You're being ridiculous. Moony isn't going to hurt me."
"Moony?" Remus raised his eyebrows. "You're giving my nickname to that monster?"
Lena shrugged. "It doesn't seem right to just keep referring to him as 'the wolf'. And I think it's cute."
"Cute? Lena, he's a murderous beast!"
"That also happens to be adorable and like a good ear-rub." Before Remus could protest this, Lena slipped her arms around his middle, and looked up at him with pleading eyes. "Please, darling, let me just try to be with you tonight. If it turns out that Moony's response to me two months ago was just a freak incident, I'll remove myself to the house and stay there the rest of the night." She slightly cocked her head. "Or do you think I can't handle myself?"
"Of course you can look after yourself," said Remus quickly, wrapping his arms around her too. "I just hate the idea of there being even a one percent chance that I could bite you."
"Why? Do you think Moony wouldn't consider me a sexy enough wolf-mate for him? I'm kidding," she hastily amended, upon Remus' glare. "I understand how serious lycanthropy is, I do. And I know you'd never forgive yourself if you passed it on to me – even if I would. But I swear, Remus, I won't let that happen tonight."
Remus looked down at her, and his heart fluttered in the most inconvenient way at the expression of adoration on her face. He sighed, then bent his head down to rest his forehead against hers. Closing his eyes, he murmured, "Why do you always have to make it so impossible to say no to you?"
Three hours later, the moon rose, and Lena watched as Remus' body twisted and contorted – clenching her fists as he howled in pain – until it finally formed the shape of a werewolf.
They were in the entrance hall, Lena standing near the door so she was ready to let Moony, as she now thought of him, outside. She held her breath as he turned around and saw her. For about five seconds, he stood absolutely still, just staring at her. Then he gave a little whine and leapt towards her. He stood on his hind legs, and his forepaws fell onto Lena, just below her shoulders. The weight of them pushed her back against the door, and he proceeded to attempt to lick her chin.
Delighted as she was that Moony recognised her, she pushed him off her. "Sorry, dear," she told him, smiling, "but you're not getting any kisses when you're a giant furball. Now," she opened the door, "out we go."
Apparently, the fresh air and wide open space was more tempting to Moony than the taste of Lena's face, because he immediately bounded outside. Shutting the door behind her, Lena fondly watched the werewolf scamper off to explore the grounds, and followed him at a much slower pace.
For ten or so minutes, Moony was happy simply to investigate his new surroundings. But eventually he reached the front gate of the Estate. He sniffed the air, and let out a low growl. He urgently pawed at the bottom of the gate, and growled again when he was met with its resistance. He looked back at Lena pointedly, and she shook her head. Moony whined pitifully and pawed at the gate again.
Sighing, Lena dropped to her knee beside him, and stroked his back. "I'm sorry," she said softly. "I know you want to hunt. But I can't let you."
Moony stared at her, his amber eyes beseeching, and whimpered.
Lena reached out and took his large head in her hands, gazing back at him sadly. "I can't let you hurt anyone, Moony," she whispered. "Remus would never forgive me."
At the mention of his human self's name, Moony's lips curled into a snarl and he jerked his head out of Lena's grasp. He took a few steps back, growling. Then, quite suddenly, he raised one paw and swiped his claws across his face.
"No!" cried Lena, anguished. She rushed towards him, but he retreated from her again. When he was about a hundred feet from her, he sat down and howled. The sound, so miserable and angry, sent a sharp pain through Lena.
She tried to approach him once more, but Moody stood up, poised to run off again. The two of them locked eyes.
After ten or so seconds, Lena's shoulders slumped. "You poor thing," she whispered. "I'm so sorry." Then she turned around and walked back to the house. She sat down on the doorstep, putting her head in her hands.
Remus treated his lycanthropy as a disease and hated the creature he became because all Moony wanted to do was hunt down and attack humans. That was his entire nature, his every instinct.
Or at least, it was supposed to be. But that full moon two months ago, when the wolf had first run away from Lena and later tried to save her life, had proved he was capable of more. She had hoped that tonight she would be able to discover the full extent of just what Moony could become, but with the exception of his affection for her, he seemed to have reverted completely back to the monster that Remus detested.
The wolf sat about fifty metres away from the female human, watching her. Her face was covered by her hands, but he could clearly sense her emotion: upset. With him.
This agitated the wolf. He had been furious when he'd woken up last time and discovered that she wasn't there. She had been there, he knew. Traces of her unmistakable scent had lingered, most strongly on his own body – something that had confused him terribly at first. Then he'd understood.
His stupid human self had mated with her.
That had infuriated him. She, the predator of predators, his protector, this strange and wonderful creature whose touch he craved, had deemed that weak, pathetic, awful human was fit to be hers.
The wolf thought of how his human self would wake to find another scar on his face, and felt pleased.
'Serves him right.'
His pleasure was short-lived, however. Her body had started to tremble, her desolation intensifying. He pawed at the ground unhappily. He hated the idea that he was the cause of her misery.
As soon as he had seen her tonight, his anger at her for not being there last time had disappeared, instead overcome by joy. The way she smiled at him, spoke to him so sweetly (even if he couldn't understand a word she was saying), her distinctive scent – oh, he loved that scent. He wanted to roll around in the smell, be covered by it.
But he had made her sad. He hadn't really understood what 'sad' was until he met her – or rather, when she hadn't been there when he wanted. The sound she had made when he scratched his face was like the way he had felt then.
'She shouldn't have mentioned his name,' thought the wolf crossly. Remus. It was only recently that he had learned that was the name of his two-legged counterpart, and he hated it.
But his fury at her using it had all but disappeared now. Her present unhappiness was much worse. So he stood up, and trotted over to her.
She didn't appear to notice his approach, her face still in her hands. Reaching her, he sat down and whined quietly. This, at last, made her look up, and he noticed that something wet was sliding down her cheek. Curious, he leant forward and licked it. She drew back her face, looking surprised, and said something to him. One of the words was something she'd said before, which he'd never heard until then.
It sounded like Moony.
She wiped her cheek with a hand, and finally smiled. He could still sense that she was upset, but less so than before. Unsure of what else to do, he bowed his head and nuzzled it against her leg. In response, he felt her fingers tangle themselves in the fur on his neck. She said something to him again, finishing with that same word. He looked up at her, questioningly. Why did she keep saying it?
She stroked his muzzle, and tried to brush away the thin trail of blood leaking from the scratch. She shook her head slightly as she did this. She murmured words – including, once again, Moony.
And at last, he understood. He was Moony.
Moony spent the rest of the night either sitting next to Lena or pacing about in front of her. She could tell he was still dissatisfied by his incarceration, but she was relieved that he didn't try to hurt himself again.
An hour before sunrise, Lena was struggling to keep her eyes open, and Moony also seemed ready to sleep. Suspecting that Remus would probably prefer to transform back into his human body inside, she opened the door and ushered in the tired werewolf. Moony slunk into the corner of the entrance hall and lay down.
Lena Summoned a blanket. She lay it over him and scratched his head, smiling. "Good night, darling," she whispered.
She left the entrance hall and went upstairs to their bedroom. Mortimer was sleeping on her bedside table, so she did her best not to disturb him as she crawled into bed. However, just as she was almost asleep, she was roused by the sound of soft footfalls coming down the corridor.
Sitting up, she could just make out the shape of Moony standing in the doorway. He let out a little whine.
Just as Lena was about to get up, the wolf trotted over to the bed, and leapt up onto it.
"Moony!" she scolded in a whisper, but he ignored her, lying down and curling up on Remus' side of the bed.
Despite herself, Lena chuckled softly. Remus would probably be horrified at the thought of her sleeping beside the wolf in their bed, and Lena suspected Moony knew that, and it was half the reason why he was doing it.
"You're a cheeky bastard," she muttered. "And I adore you all the more for it." She bent down and pressed a light kiss to Moony's nose, and was rewarded with his throaty, purring noise. Then she pulled the bedcovers back up and finally fell asleep, her love by her side.
The once-again-human Remus was still fast asleep when Lena woke up. For a minute, she was unable to tear her eyes away from him. The scratch Moony had inflicted on his face was still present, but she couldn't imagine it would leave much of a permanent scar. Then again, who – other than herself – would really notice another mark on the scarred and lined face?
Eventually, she got up and went down to the kitchen. As she made her tea, her thoughts kept drifting back to Moony – in particular, how excited he had been when he'd realised he wasn't locked up in a basement, and how disappointed he was when he'd figured out that he was still imprisoned, just in a larger space than usual.
He was a predator, and humans were his natural prey. But he wasn't allowed to hunt. He had never been. He was always forced to deny his own nature.
'No wonder he hurts himself,' thought Lena sadly. 'He must feel there's something wrong with him.'
Subconsciously, she glanced down at the knuckles on her right hand. The grazes had healed over the past three days, but there were moments when Lena felt like making new ones.
She still hadn't opened the documents' case. She'd been very close, so close, to doing it on several occasions, but then the image of Irina's dead body would flash through her mind, closely followed by her nightmares of doing the same thing to Voldemort and Harry, and she would try to distance herself as far from the case as she could.
But after her night with Moony, the urge to begin her attempt to translate them had started to fill her again. She was yearning to know their contents, to discover and learn...
Lena's train of thought was interrupted by a sudden tingling sensation in her arm – a sign that something had run into the invisible barrier surrounding the Estate. Taking her mug of tea with her, she made her way outside and scanned the perimeter.
It was an owl, who was gradually becoming more bewildered and aggravated that its way was being blocked by an unseen assailant. Lena quickly removed the top layer of the barrier, and the owl zoomed inside, making a beeline for Lena, who quickly held her arm out for it. She winced as it landed and dug its claws into her forearm that was only protected by a thin cardigan. Lena hastily took the letter it was delivering, and the owl took flight once more. But instead of leaving, it flew up to the roof of the house and perched itself on the edge. Evidently, it was expected that she would send a reply.
Lena took the letter back inside to the kitchen. Putting her mug on the table, she opened the envelope and read the message inside.
It was from Hedda Nygård, and like Markellos, she was offering Lena a job. This one involved a baby Manticore, some enchanted teaspoons, and a disgruntled second cousin of Hedda's. It also required Lena leaving for Norway the next morning.
'Well, the translation is definitely going to have to wait now,' she thought. And at the moment, she honestly didn't know which was greater: her relief, or her disappointment.
Tuesday 23 August, 1994:
"Come on," muttered Remus. "Come on, come on... yes!"
The inside of his steak was the perfect shade of pink.
He cut off a piece, stabbed it with his fork, and was unable to hold back a small noise of pleasure as he chewed the meat. It was delicious – as it should have been, considering the amount of time he had spent working on his culinary skills over the last two weeks. There hadn't been much else to do in Lena's absence.
She was supposed to return from Norway the following afternoon. The thought of seeing her again made Remus smile. Without her, two weeks had felt like two years. He hadn't been alone in the house, of course, but the company of Mortimer the bowtruckle wasn't quite as exciting – or satisfying – as Lena's.
After she had received the letter from Hedda Nygård, they had decided that as Remus was still recovering from the transformation, she would undertake the job herself. Remus, however, suspected that part of her reluctance towards the idea of him coming with her was that she was worried about bringing him back over to the continent while the Vettori family was still out for their blood. Of course, Remus was concerned for her safety too, but he knew she was much more capable of handling herself against them than he was. If anything, he was more afraid that if she did run into any of them, they wouldn't escape with their life intact this time.
Remus was almost halfway through his dinner when, to his surprise, he heard the sound of the door opening. Just as he was grabbing his wand, he heard Lena's voice call out, "Remus?"
He ran to the entrance hall. Upon seeing Lena there, Banishing her suitcase to their bedroom, he practically leapt at her and gave her a thorough snogging, to which she eagerly responded.
After a minute, their mouths finally parted, and they gazed at each other, breathing heavily.
"I thought you wouldn't be back until tomorrow," said Remus, stroking her cheek with his thumb.
"I finished the job early," she replied, "and decided I didn't want to wait a whole extra eighteen hours to see you." She ran her hands slowly down his sides, and smiled. "Did you miss me?"
Remus answered by kissing her again and pushing her into the nearest wall. One of her hands ran up the back of his neck and grabbed a fistful of his hair. He started to pull off the leather jacket she was wearing. Just as he was sliding it off her shoulders, Lena tugged his head back, breaking the kiss.
She was grinning. "I'll take that as a 'yes', then," she whispered.
"The most definite of yeses," he affirmed, still pulling at her jacket.
Lena took a small step away from the wall, allowing the jacket to come off more easily. Once if it was off, she removed her hand from Remus' hair and leant back against the wall. Hooking two fingers around the waistband of his trousers, she pulled him to her so their bodies were pressed together. "I'm hungry," she whispered.
He shivered, and a throbbing began in his groin. "Good," he murmured, his lips against her ear, "because, I'm starving."
They had only made it as far as the first-floor drawing room, and even then they had fallen short of the sofa. Remus, still too lightheaded to get up from the floor, watched as Lena stood, pulling her dark jeans back up.
"Well," she said, doing up the zip, "now we've sorted that out, is there anything to eat?"
Remus blinked. He had completely forgotten his half-eaten dinner. "I cooked some steak," he told her, sitting up and reaching for his pants that were still around his ankles.
Lena, who had been searching for her shirt, paused, looking at Remus with an arched eyebrow. "Is the steak brown the whole way through?"
"No."
"Then it isn't cooked."
Remus rolled his eyes, and finished doing up his fly. He had learnt that Lena considered any meat that was less than almost-burnt undercooked. "You're welcome to turn it into charcoal, if that's what you prefer."
Lena responded with a haughty sniff, then asked, "Any idea where my shirt is?"
"I think you lost it somewhere along the hallway."
She retrieved her shirt, and once they were both dressed again, they made their way to the kitchen. As he reheated his dinner, and Lena made the necessary adjustments to her own, she noticed the morning's Daily Prophet folded up on the bench, and went over to pick it up.
"I don't suppose there's anything interesting in here."
Remus froze. Caught up in his joy at being reunited with her, he had completely forgotten the reported events following the previous night's Quidditch World Cup final.
"Actually, love," he began to say, "there's something–"
He broke off as Lena unfolded the newspaper and saw the front page. She went rigid as her eyes locked onto the image of the Dark Mark in the sky.
For a long moment, she stared at it in silence. Then she looked up at Remus.
He quickly crossed over to her. "It's not as bad as it looks," he said. "According to the report, it was just the drunken antics of a group following the match–"
"Antics?" interrupted Lena quietly. "It's the fucking Dark Mark, Remus. Only Death Eaters know how to cast it." Her eyes scanned the rest of the front page story.
"You know better than anyone that there were Death Eaters who escaped justice," Remus tried to reason with her. "And while they might still be blood supremacists, it doesn't mean that they have any intention of starting the War again."
Having finished reading the story, Lena threw the Daily Prophet back down on the bench, and returned her gaze to Remus. "You don't get it," she said. "To be branded with the Dark Mark was to give yourself entirely to Voldemort and his cause. It was supposed to be a symbol of complete loyalty, of unshakeable belief. That's why they sent it up for all to see when they killed. And to people like Lucius, like Walden Macnair, who did everything they could to distance themselves from Voldemort when he fell, it is a reminder that their fellow Death Eaters who went to prison for their fealty would consider their freedom a betrayal, and would probably like to see them dead. They're the people who – as much as they are still blood purists – want Voldemort to be dead. Even at their most drunken, they're not going to cast the Dark Mark into the sky."
Remus scratched his head. "I don't understand," he admitted. "You're saying that the only people who could and would cast the Dark Mark are locked up in Azkaban – which means there was no way they could have done it."
"Exactly," replied Lena, her expression grave. "You were right, Remus. This isn't as bad as it looks – it's worse."
It was clear to Remus, over the next few days, that Lena had been deeply disturbed by the appearance of the Dark Mark. However, she was reluctant to say anything more on the subject to him, and almost immediately began to search for tasks to distract herself – an endeavour with which her childhood acquaintances were more than happy to help her.
Evidently, Markellos and Hedda were pleased enough with the jobs Lena had done for them to recommend her services to their friends. Consequently, Lena was provided with almost constant employment for the next nine weeks, the various jobs taking her all across Europe. Sometimes Remus went with her, other times he stayed at the Estate, particularly if the night of the full moon was approaching, or had just occurred. On the actual night of his transformation, however, Lena made sure to be with him, to provide 'Moony' with her companionship – something Remus knew the wolf enjoyed very much. Too much, if Remus were to be honest about how he felt. But he suspected that Lena would tease him if she thought he was jealous of his own 'furry little problem', so he didn't tell her.
When he was on jobs with Lena, there were a couple of near run-ins with the Vettori family or their associates, but Lena always managed to get them out before a confrontation could be had. Remus was just relieved that the Koning family didn't appear to be aware of Lena's involvement in Bram's disappearance. One vengeful and powerful family who wanted them dead was enough, in his opinion.
On the rare occasions that both he and Lena were home, they'd sometimes visit Maggie, at her place in Pembrokeshire. A couple of times she was in the company of her boyfriend, Oliver Wood. For Remus, at first it was a little strange to be making social calls to people who had been his students just a few months ago. But he gradually got used to it, even if such visits did make him long for the company of his own best friend.
He knew, through Lena, that Harry had been in regular contact with Sirius through letters. It was safe – the Auror department would never believe that the boy who they'd thought Sirius had been trying to kill would be keeping the wanted serial killer up-to-date about all that was going on in his life. The same could not be said for Remus – and Lena, to a certain degree. After his resignation, it had taken less than a day for an Auror to turn up at the shack and thoroughly question Remus about any contact he might have had with Sirius. It had been heavily implied to him that his status as a werewolf meant the Ministry was more than willing to believe he was an associate of the escaped convict, and that if he gave them any reason to think he was even attempting to contact his old friend, he would be hauled off for more questioning.
So Remus had to make do with companions who were at least fifteen years his junior, and the frequent feeling of being the 'old man' in the room. It was a nice change when Lena once took him with her to Newt Scamander's for lunch, even if he had been a little awestruck by the famous Magizoologist.
As the weeks passed, Lena seemed to move on from her distraction over the Dark Mark – although there was the odd occasion that she came out of her study looking... well, perturbed. But on the whole, things appeared to be going back to normal; or at least, their normal.
That was until the day after Halloween.
Tuesday 1 November, 1994:
Dear Lena,
I don't know whether you've heard by now, but if you haven't: last night, my name came out of the Goblet of Fire, and I was named the fourth Triwizard Champion.
To be clear, I did NOT put my name in the Goblet, and I definitely didn't ask anyone else to – even though everybody thinks I did (including Ron, who's being an absolute git about the whole thing). Apparently, people think I like putting myself in potentially fatal situations, and wouldn't want a school year where my biggest concerns are my exams. According to Snape, I've been 'determined to break rules' and 'cross lines' ever since I came to Hogwarts. Prick.
Anyway, I have no idea who put in my name. As to why, all I can guess is that someone's hoping I'll get killed in the tournament – which doesn't really do anything to narrow down the 'who'. Do you have any ideas?
I don't know what the First Task is, and we won't know until we're doing it. So if you think there are any gaps in my education that should be filled ASAP, I'd appreciate the help.
Hope you and Lupin are well.
Harry
P.S. I've also written to Padfoot about this. I just hope he doesn't do anything stupid.
"Fuck," muttered Lena, after she'd finished reading the letter. She looked up at Remus, who was watching her from the other side of the kitchen table. They'd been eating dinner when the letter arrived.
At Remus' questioning look, Lena handed him the letter. His frown grew as he read it. At the end, he looked back up at Lena. "They're making him compete?"
"It appears so," she replied, drawing one leg up onto her chair. "I guess the Goblet's magic is binding."
Remus chewed his bottom lip thoughtfully, then slowly said, "Igor Karkaroff is headmaster of Durmstrang now, isn't he?"
Lena raised an eyebrow. "You think because he was a Death Eater he would try to kill Harry?"
"I'd say it's fair to be suspicious," said Remus.
"I wouldn't," remarked Lena. "He made a deal to trade others' names for his own freedom. I think it's safe to say that he has many more enemies than friends among the Death Eaters now."
Remus considered this. "It could be a way to get back in their good books, if he arranged Harry's death. If he thinks Voldemort is returning, he might consider that his safest bet."
Lena tilted her head to the side. "By that logic, you'd have to suspect that Snape is equally likely to be the culprit, as a known traitor to his fellow Death Eaters."
"Dumbledore trusts Snape," said Remus firmly.
"And Snape hates Harry," countered Lena. "Even more now, Harry thinks, after what went down between you, Sirius and him in June." When Remus opened his mouth to protest, Lena cut him off. "I'm not saying I think it's Snape who put Harry's name in the Goblet – in fact, I'm willing to bet that it's definitely not. All I'm saying is that if you're looking suspects, the Death Eaters who very publicly avoided Azkaban are the wrong place to start that search."
"Well, perhaps now that Alastor Moody is at Hogwarts, he might be able to find out who's responsible," suggested Remus. "After all, finding Dark Wizards was his job for over forty years."
Lena recalled a previous letter Harry had sent to her, and couldn't hold back a smirk. "Did I tell you that Harry said Moody turned little Malfoy into a ferret to punish him for trying to attack Harry from behind? Merlin, I wish I'd been there to see it."
Remus looked at her curiously. "Is there a particular reason you dislike your cousin so much? Other than, you know, his–"
"Being an entitled, bullying, blood purist prat?"said Lena wryly. "Well, I suppose there might be some lingering resentment from my childhood over the fact that his parents actually liked him." A question she'd been meaning to ask for a while spilled out of her mouth. "Why did Snape hate you all so much?"
Remus blinked, clearly surprised by this.
"I mean," continued Lena, "you told me about Sirius tricking him into almost being attacked by you, and James saving his life, but it sounds like you hated each other long before that."
Remus shrugged. "Snape was a Slytherin kid who was really into the Dark Arts. And we were Gryffindors who hated them. There was something of an instantaneous mutual loathing." When Lena gave him a sceptical look, he explained, "What you have to remember is that as bad as the animosity between Slytherin and the other houses is now, it was far worse during the War. Students' parents and family members were dying on both sides, killed by each other. And there were many Slytherin students who did little to disguise it was their intention to join the Death Eaters once they graduated."
"And Snape was one of those?"
"Eventually," replied Remus, after a moment's hesitation. "Definitely by the time Sirius decided it would be funny if Snape had an encounter with me during a full moon."
But Lena knew there was something she was still missing, and shook her head. "No, there's something more personal," she said, drawing up her other leg, and hugging her knees. "What you're talking about is too general – not something strong enough that you would despise their child on sight, like Snape did with Harry."
Remus sighed. "It's not something that can really be explained, Lena," he told her. "From the moment they set eyes on each other, James couldn't stand Snape, who in return detested him. They were just the antithesis of each other. And when James' crush on Lily became more obvious, that only made Snape hate him more."
"Lily?" said Lena sharply. "Why would that matter to Snape?"
"Because Lily and Snape were friends before they came to Hogwarts. They lived near each other, and despite being sorted into opposing houses, they were pretty much inseparable for the first couple of years."
That was unexpected information. "And then?" demanded Lena.
"I guess they drifted apart," replied Remus. "I imagine Lily being a Muggle-born had something to do with it. Then there was an incident in Fifth Year, and I don't think they ever spoke again."
"What sort of incident?"
To her surprise, Remus' expression became guilty. "James and Sirius," he began, looking down at his lap, "had Snape in something of a, erm, compromising position. Lily tried to help Snape, but he rejected the offer, calling her a Mudblood. You know," he added, after a moment's reflection, "I can't actually think of another moment where I saw Lily so furious."
Lena barely heard Remus' last comment. She had been distracted by something she had once said to Snape floating into her mind.
'But what I really want to know, Severus, is what does Dumbledore have on you... Tell me that, because I've been trying to figure it out for the last four years, and it has to be something really good.'
"Oh, shit," breathed Lena, as she finally understood.
Severus Snape had been in love with Harry's mother.
Saturday 19 November, 1994:
"I really don't think we're supposed to go this far out of Hogsmeade," muttered Hermione, as she and Harry – who was still under the Invisibility Cloak – climbed over the stile at the end of the outermost lane of the Wizarding Village.
"Lena thought it would be best to meet in complete privacy, considering all the scrutiny I've been under the last few weeks," explained Harry, as they headed in the direction of small thicket at the foot of the mountain. Now that they were out of sight from anyone else, Harry removed the Cloak.
They'd just left the Three Broomsticks, where Moody had seen through the Invisibility Cloak, and Hagrid had told Harry to meet him at midnight outside his cabin – bringing up Harry's total of intended clandestine meetings for the day up to three.
After Harry had written to Lena about his name coming out of the Goblet of Fire, she had sent a message to meet her at this place his next Hogsmeade weekend (as well as a list of spells for him to practise). Lupin would have come too, but it had been a full moon the previous night, and he was still recovering.
When they were about fifty metres away from the thicket of trees, Harry stopped Hermione. "Before we see Lena," he told her, "I need you to promise me that at no point will you mention the dream I had about Voldemort over the summer."
Hermione furrowed her brow. "Why? Haven't you told her?"
"No," replied Harry forcefully. "And I'm not going to." He took a deep breath. "Remember what I told you about Lena knowing Voldemort when she was a child?"
"Yes," said Hermione slowly, sounding slightly suspicious.
"Well," said Harry carefully, "they had quite a... close relationship. Obviously, her feelings about him have changed," he added hastily, upon seeing disgust creep over Hermione's face, "but there's still quite a bit of... intensity to them."
This seemed to confuse Hermione. "Are you saying she loved him when she was little, but now she hates him?"
Harry hesitated. Finally, he answered, "It's, er, slightly more complicated than that. What I'm trying to say is that it's a bad idea to let her know that he might be back in Britain, because then she might go looking for him."
Hermione frowned. "But wouldn't it be good to find out where he is? Or at least figure out if he really is planning something?"
"Not if it's Lena," replied Harry firmly. "She can't be the one to find him, Hermione. That could be catastrophic. So promise me you won't tell her about the dream."
Hermione looked reluctant. "Harry–"
"Promise me, Hermione!"
"All right," she said, alarmed at his sudden fervour, "I promise."
Harry let out a long breath. "Okay." He gave Hermione a small smile, and started walking towards the thicket again. After a few seconds, Hermione followed, and Harry could see out of the corner of his eye that she was still anxious.
They reached the thicket and struggled through the twisty, low-hanging branches until they reached the centre, where there was a small clearing. There Lena was sitting, with her legs outstretched, on a picnic blanket. Upon seeing Harry and Hermione, she stood up, grinning.
"Hello, you two."
It had been over four months since Harry had seen her, and in that moment, he realised just how much he missed having her around at Hogwarts. So he quickly closed the short distance between them and hugged her fiercely. If this display of affection surprised Lena, she didn't show it, returning the hug with equal warmth.
"Rough few weeks?" she murmured.
A small lump formed in Harry's throat. "Yeah," he choked out, letting go of her and stepping back. "Something like that."
Lena gestured for him and Hermione to sit down on the blanket with her. "I'd be more than happy to pay Rita Skeeter a visit, if you like," she offered. "I could, erm, suggest to her that her reporting could do with a little more fact-checking."
"I'll keep it in mind," said Harry, half-smiling.
"And how are you, Hermione?" inquired Lena. "Harry mentioned you don't have the Time-Turner anymore."
"It's no longer a necessity, now that I've dropped both Divination and Muggle Studies," explained Hermione.
"That's a shame," remarked Lena. "I imagine it's something that would frequently come in handy."
"Yes," admitted Hermione, "but it's certainly nice not to have to be constantly worried about breaking the rules of time travel."
"What about you, Lena?" asked Harry. "You haven't mentioned much in your letters about what you've been up to since graduating."
Lena made a dismissive gesture. "Oh, the usual – travelling, working, breaking -and-entering, a spot of kidnap, pissing off some of the most powerful Wizarding families in Europe."
Harry snorted, while Hermione looked half-amused, half-horrified.
"And how about Lupin?" he questioned.
"He's not your teacher anymore, Harry," Lena reminded him. "You can call him Remus. As to what he's been doing..." She considered this for a moment. "Much the same as me, I suppose. Oh!" She appeared to remember something. "He's grown a moustache."
Harry raised his eyebrows. "What sort of moustache?" he asked, imagining Lupin first with one of the big, bushy variety that was popular in the Westerns that Dudley had watched as a child, and then one with the ends that curled around.
"It's quite thin, with a bit of a gap here," said Lena, pointing at the small indent between her nose and top lip. "I'm still not quite sure how I feel about it."
"How was his transformation last night?" asked Hermione.
"It was pretty good," answered Lena. "He didn't try to hurt himself at all, so that was nice." There was fondness in her expression as she added, "He's really quite adorable – if you don't count the whole wanting-to-attack-humans thing."
Harry and Hermione exchanged a dubious look.
"I mean, that is quite a big 'thing' to try to forget," Harry pointed out.
Lena sighed. "He can't help it, Harry," she said. "It's just his nature. It's not like he's actually malicious or anything."
Harry still wasn't quite sure about his, but he supposed that Lena knew best.
"So," said Lena, "have you been practising that list of spells I sent you?"
He nodded. "Hermione's been helping me."
Lena smiled brightly. "Excellent. Well–" she stood up, "–let's see what you can do."
Harry copied her, also smiling. It was just so bloody good to see her again.