China Doll V-- Man is a Wolf to Man
218 Ho Chi Mien was not a pretty sight. Decrepit would be the word, or maybe desolate, probably a mixture of both. Apartment 2A was a classic example of what was wrong with utilitarian-style buildings built on the budget of half a shoestring. The crumbling cement was slowly reverting back to crushed rock as it fell from the ceiling into little piles on the cracked tile floor, which was in desperate need of a sweep. Sidestepping a hypodermic needle, Vix shuddered. 218 was one of those places finding itself cloaked in chronic gray even when the sun was shining, a place where laughter was as alien as money. Scuttling past a sign that read "NO P TS", she stopped in front of Apartment 2A. There was no name in the tarnished nameplate, no mat in front of the door, no sign that the place was inhabited at all. Taking a glance around nervously, Vix raised her hand to knock. There was no reply, the silence as unnerving as the building itself. Vix shuddered, trying to decide what to do next. With an inward smile at her naivete, she reached a hand for the rusty doorknob.
It swung open.
Vix stood there in shock. She hadn't actually expected for the door to be unlocked... Glancing nervously over her shoulder, she took a step into the apartment, slamming the door closed behind her, and then hesitantly, she pushed the dead bolt into the lock. "Hello?"
A slight whisper of wind was her only reply.
Vix groped around for a light switch, conveniently finding it on her right. With a click the darkness was illuminated. It was only one room; one room with a rusty stove and a door that led to either a closet or bathroom. There was no one there, the room looked as bare and uninhabited as the rest of the apartment building. Vix took a hesitant step on the creaky hardwood floor, nearly screaming when a cockroach scuttled across her foot, and cautiously made her way to the door. It opened as easily as the front door, giving a reluctant creak as she stepped inside. It was a bedroom. A rusty iron frame bed was pushed against the wall, with a sorry-looking mattress thrown casually across it. The room had obviously been furnished around the same era as her diner, for the carpet under her feet was a moldy orange-brown. A single case was neatly propped up against the wall, right next to a cardboard box. Kneeling down Vix tried to make out the peeling letters on the suitcase. Professor R. J. Lupin
Unlike everything else in the apartment, the case had a rusty lock on it, so she turned to the cardboard box instead. Feeling slightly guilty, Vix opened the lid, sneezing when she was engulfed by a cloud of dust. Right on top was what looked like a scroll out of the old sword-and-sandal movies. She picked it up hesitantly, as if afraid that it would bite, and gently began to unroll it. How to Pinpoint and Destroy Werewolves: an essay by Hermione Granger (Gryffindor Third Year). Vix almost laughed, this sounded like some sort of Goth-Rocky Horror Picture Show cult. Placing the scroll by her side, she took another look into the box. It was full of books, books like she had never seen before. They were all leather bound, leather ranging from the classic black to a scarlet red and a bright purple. There was even a tome covered in what looked like snake-skin. Pulling that one out, Vix opened the cover apprehensively. The Auror's Encyclopedia of Dark Creatures and Their Magic: 5th edition, it proclaimed in an official looking green script. She tried to suppress a giggle as she flipped randomly through the book. Suddenly, a brightly colored photograph caught her eye. It was of a woman in a red dress, cut in the medieval style with a square neckline and flowing bell sleeves. Her skin was whiter than the paper she was printed on, her long black hair cascading over her face in a river. Her red lips were twisted into a perfect inviting smile, just barely showing her pure white teeth. Vix could have sworn that the woman winked at her, but she pushed that aside as she turned to the article right beside the painting.
PSYCHE- The psyche is often referred to as a cross between its cousin the common vampire (pg. 2109) and the dementors (pg. 677) embodying the worst characteristics of both creatures. Unfortunately psyches are so rare, and so elusive when found, that only limited research has been performed on this creature. Though never backed up as scientific fact, it is currently believed that, like their cousin the vampire, psyches are "undead" or corpses that somehow retain their awareness. However, psyches lack their soul and try to make up for this emotional void by consuming the feelings of their victims, who generally lapse into insanity. Depending on the depth of their emotion, a psyche can feed on any given human for a period ranging from a few days to weeks on end, finally reaching a state of heightened awareness commonly referred to as "transcendence". At this time, the psyche will drain their victim of their blood, and the human stripped of their life and emotion will too become a psyche.
The last psyche to be taken into custody (see photograph opposite page) was in 1941. She was an obsessive compulsive neurotic, who referred to herself only as "Z". Until she attacked one of her guards, Z amused herself by counting the number of ceiling tiles in her cell and dividing it incessantly by random irrational decimals. A stake through the heart had no effect on her though she finally perished when burned alive.
Psyches are prone to general vampiric tendencies, shunning garlic, hawthorn, rowan, salt and running water, though sunlight has no known effect on them. Its is also commonly believed that they are repelled by St. John's Wort and magnets, fears that are not shared by their blood-sucking cousins.
see also VAMPIRE (COMMON), DEMENTORS, and TRANSCENDENCE
Vix shivered, shutting the dusty volume with a slam. Psyches and vampires... in spite of her rationality she felt the small hairs on the back of her neck rise. Shaking off the feeling of being watched, Vix reached into the dank cardboard box again, pulling out When Marshes Get Murky: Hinkypunks, Kappas, and Other Aquatic Demons. This was followed by The Life Cycle and Migration Patterns of West African Sprites, and The Quick Reference Spell Guide (1989 edition). Soon she was trapped in an endless parade of Moody in the Moonlight: The Secret Life of Werewolves, Unforgivable Curses: The Dark Arts and Their Effect on 20th Century History, and The Idiots Guide to Dark Magic Protection. Vix didn't know how long she spent on the floor, engulfed in a cloud of dust, flipping through the books in outright amazement, surprised at the pictures, the spells, the topic span of the Idiot's Guide Series... She was only woken from her reverie when the door slammed... hard.
----
Whimsy's office materialized around them in a cloud of white. The squishy white carpet under their feet led straight up to a white desk with white paper lying over in it neat piles waiting to be signed. The white filing cabinets blended perfectly with the white walls, so clean even Remus's grandmother would have been satisfied. Hanging over Whimsy's coputer was a black and white Muggle photograph of a woman singing into a microphone, with a look of sultry tragedy ingrained into her face.
"Billie Holiday," Whimsy said quietly, noting the direction of Remus's gaze. "One of the greatest Jazz vocalists the world has ever seen."
"I've never heard of her," said Remus absently, his full attention still riveted on Holiday, the smoke from the bar she was in curling up around her microphone and into her hair, giving the picture an almost ethereal feel.
"She was before your time," Whimsy replied, his voice sounding for a moment wistful. In a second the old taskmaster was back, his words striking with a hard edge renewed. "Drop Isaac on the floor, we have much to discuss."
Tearing his eyes away from the image that had so captured his infatuation, Remus dropped Isaac on the pure white carpet, which let up a small moan at being so rudely disturbed.
"Shut up!" Whimsy roared, and with a start, Remus realized he was talking to the rug. The carpet gave one more discontented squeal before lapsing into a sulky silence, "Sit," Whimsy said, gesturing to two white upholstered chairs standing by his desk. Feeling rather like a wolf in sheep's clothing, Remus obliged, wincing when his muddy feet left prints on the seething carpet.
Whimsy slid in behind his desk with lithe feline grace, and for the second time that day, fixed Remus with his unnerving stare. "I have many questions to ask you, but none of them are relevant at the moment."
Sirius leaned forward over Whimsy's immaculate desk, "Cut the crap old man," he growled. "What do you want with him?"
Whimsy raised an eyebrow and bent forward, "I asked you why you were in my territory. No wizard in his right mind comes to Hong Kong. They know it's a battleground. I don't know why you're here, and frankly I don't care."
"What do you want?" Sirius repeated, his eyes narrowing into slits.
"Let me tell you a story," Whimsy replied coolly, tapping his fingers on the desk. "Do you know what happened in 1945?"
"Grindewald was defeated," Remus said still unsure of what this had to do with anything. He hadn't come to listen to a lecture on the history of magic...
Whimsy nodded, his face impassive, "Grindewald was a German wizard, and a Muggle born. He had very definite ideas about… right and wrong, persay, and according to Grindewald, everything that was going wrong in Germany was the fault of the Jews. He encouraged Anti-Semitic movements in Germany, helping one to power. When this movement took… drastic actions, the Muggles went to war over it. But to condense an extremely long and complicated epoch, Grindewald was defeated by Dumbledore just as the Allied Muggle forces took Berlin. His unofficial reign defiantly over, Grindewald's old supporters fled Germany. All of them were captured, except one. He took refuge up in Durmstang for a few years, the headmaster had always been a quiet supporter of Grindewald and then moved to a place where no Western wizards would ever think to look."
"Hong Kong," said Remus finished for him quietly.
"Yes," Whimsy drew a rasping intake of breath. "Hong Kong."
"What does this have to do with anything?" Sirius snapped, exasperated, not seduced by Whimsy's urgent air at all.
Giving Sirius a cold glance for ruining his moment, Whimsy continued. "This man started to integrate himself into Chinese life, posing as a Muggle of course. He even took a hand in the Opium business, which provided very lucrative results. But then in the early 1960s, almost fifteen years after the fall of Grindewald, a young man searched this wizard out. This man had plans to become the next Dark Wizard, and more out of amusement than anything else, the wizard taught him everything he knew. Never did he expect than his pupil would meet with so much success. I am talking, of course, of Lord Voldemort."
"So this man," Remus said carefully. "Does he still live in Hong Kong?"
"Yes." Whimsy replied. "Why do you think I am in the Opium trade? Not of my own volitation."
"So you're saying this man is Su Naoto?" Remus said, still trying to vainly put the pieces together.
"Precisely," Whimsy smiled genially, the first friendly emotion Remus had seen on his face. "The opium trade is just a cover up for Naoto's operations."
"What operations?" Sirius said warily. It was obvious that Whimsy had not yet won his trust.
"Naoto has seen the rise and fall of two dark lords," Whimsy said quietly. "With so much experience, do you not think he'd give it a try of his own. There has been a void in the leadership of the Dark Arts ever since the fall of Voldemort. A void Naoto now plans to fill." He paused, letting the magnitude of this statement sink in. "I'm sorry if I seemed a little abrupt back in the city, but when I found you in Naoto's daughter's diner--"
"Wait--" Remus held up his hand. "Vix is Naoto's daughter?"
Whimsy nodded assent, "He had two children, both Muggle, and whether or not they know of their father's activities is beyond me. Nor frankly, do I care, since they press no immediate threat."
"I still don't understand why you're telling us all this..." Remus trailed off, wallowing in his confusion.
"Telling you," Whimsy replied. "Mr. Black is too recognizable to be of any use, and with his past history, not one I could trust."
"So how do you know I'm not conspiring with Sirius?" Remus snapped.
Whimsy sighed, "I don't. But I suspect you don't want Mr. Black revealed to the world. If you don't help me the first person who knows will be Cornelius Fudge."
Remus grimaced, "That's blackmail."
"Do you think I care?" Whimsy smirked. "You're smarter than that."
"What do you want?"
Whimsy paused for a moment, exhaling, "Your help."
"We've established that," Sirius glared angrily.
Whimsy ignored him, staring at Remus once again. "I want you to kill Su Naoto."
----
Sirius watched his friend as they apperated in the hall outside the apartment. Remus had already set up rudimentary wards, so they had to go to the inconvenience of using the door. He tried not to notice the crumbling cement and assorted garbage littered around the hall, and as the door swung open on its rusty hinges, it was even harder not to notice the look on Remus's face. Whimsy had given him 24 hours for his decision, and they'd left the office in silence. He could only begin to imagine the kind of emotional turmoil his friend was going through. If you wanted to hire an assassin, Remus Lupin was not the route to go. All joking aside, he was genuinely afraid for Remus. Afraid that he would go do something irrational, something noble, or most likely, something just plain stupid. But against his better nature Sirius kept his mouth shut, knowing from experience, that where Remus was concerned, it was best to just let him ride his emotions out.
Without a word to his companion, Remus walked through the empty room towards a door on the other side. Mentally, Sirius crossed off all possible conversation starters, "Nice place" and "I like the pad" just seemed like mockeries in reference to the empty shell of a room he say before him, a room that could have only been bought on a thread of a shoestring. "You can take the bed," Remus said hoarsely as he threw open the wooden door.
Sirius stopped dead under the doorjamb. With a wave of horror, he resigned himself to the fact that the day's angst was far from over, in fact it had just begun. For a second the one-time Marauders stared in drop-jawed shock at the intruder, who looked if anything more surprised than they were.
"I..." Vix began, her face wandering aimlessly over a meadow of emotions.
Sirius instantly ran over all possible reasons for Vix's intrusion; the least likely involving a pair of singing house-elves and the most probable instructions from Su Naoto. Eyes narrowing, he glanced at Remus, whose dark expression read that he had reached the same conclusion. He stepped back and let Remus take over.
"What are you doing here?" Remus said wearily, the exhaustion in his voice tangible.
"Its not what you think," Vix said swiftly.
"It had better not be," Sirius replied in spite of his previous vendetta on leaving the situation to Remus. His friend didn't look like he could handle the Hogwarts kitchen crew at the moment.
"I'm not trying to steal anything," Vix began to blabber, her pale face even whiter than normal. "It isn't even breaking and entering really... the door was already unlocked, and when I found the address you left--"
"Address?" Sirius drew an immediate blank.
Vix pulled a crumpled napkin out of the pocket of her coat. "This was on the bar."
"It's the one I left for you, before we went with Whimsy," Remus sighed, closing his eyes as he sat down on the diseased bed.
"Whimsy?" Vix looked up sharply, her fear mingling with blatant suspicion.
"Why didn't you tell us your father was Su Naoto?" Remus asked, his face gray and wan.
Vix's face hardened, and when she spoke it was with a twinge of bitterness, "I didn't think it was important." At the silence that greeted her she continued, "What? Are you working for Jonathan Whimsy? 'Cause if you are... I think I should just leave, and we'll forget any of this ever happened."
"It did happen," Remus spoke with a embittered resignation. "Don't go..."
Sirius did not say anything, but in his mind, the best thing was to get Vix out of there as soon as humanly possible.
"I don't see any reason in staying," she replied viscously. "I'm not going to let you hold me hostage."
"I'm not working for Whimsy," Remus replied quietly
Vix glared at him savagely, "Then what do you want?"
He looked up, his calm voice unnerving, "To know why you're in my house."
Vix looked down at her feet, suddenly abashed of her attack. "I found this address on the bar, you were all gone and Orien was... incoherent, so I just left, and came here. Your door was unlocked, my curiosity got the better of me, I found this room, and these books and... lost track of the time. I didn't mean anything."
"I could have you arrested," Remus said slowly.
Vix gave him the merest wisp of a smile, "But you won't."
He smiled the first real smile Sirius had seen on Remus's face since the days before Azkaban. "No, I won't."
"Let me ask you something then," Vix said, and without waiting for his reply, charged on. "Why did you leave like that, and what are all these books? Spells? Vampires?"
Remus shook his head, "I left because I had no choice. And the books are books... on spells and vampires..."
"He's a collector," Sirius volunteered, seeing Moony was in no shape to resurrect their old games.
Instead of the skeptic reply he had anticipated, Vix's face broke into a wide smile. "Where do you find these things, they're incredible! That Auror Encyclopedia..."
Smirking slightly to himself at a job well done, Sirius tuned Vix out, he too was exhausted though doing a better job of hiding it than Remus. The motion sickness from Dumbledore's portkey was just beginning to catch up with him. Without caring about what lurked in its depths Sirius sat down on the revolting orange carpet, and openly yawned. He was just about to lie down the whole way when a piece or parchment caught his eye. Reaching out, he grabbed it and unrolled the first part. How to Pinpoint and Destroy Werewolves: an essay by Hermione Granger (Gryffindor Third Year). His lighthearted mood gone; Sirius stuck the paper inside his robes, staring at his friend, who was now smiling at one of Vix's cracks. Moony... he thought... when will you ever learn that you were the best of us?
----
November 4, 1977
"You wanted to see me, sir?" One year out of Hogwarts and Remus was already missing Dumbledore sorely. Even from behind, Barty Crouch was an imposing figure, his perfectly manicured hair and starched collar masking the taskmaster that lurked within. Crouch turned his annoying aloof brown eyes to Remus, his look plainly wondering why he bothered with such lesser imbeciles.
"Yes," he replied arrogantly, motioning for Remus to sit down. "Lupin, what does being an auror mean to you?"
Remus searched for some reply to the surprisingly stereotypical question. "Er..." he took a breath, hoping to sound remotely intelligent, "To stop Voldemort?"
"Exactly," Crouch leaned forward, over his desk so close that Remus flinched. "Stopping Voldemort. Stopping."
"Sir?" Remus stammered, desperately trying to comprehend what was going on.
"Stopping!" Crouch turned around, his pencil mustache twitching. "Not eradicating-- not killing-- not wiping from the face of the earth!"
Remus felt his confusion swiftly deepen. "Sir?" he repeated.
"When a dark wizard faces you, Lupin he will not "stop" you," Crouch sneered, his voice layered with sarcasm and scorn. "He will kill you. He will squash you. He will torture you until you scream for mercy and then wipe your warm blood all over your dead body!" Remus didn't say a word, staring at his teacher with a look of shocked horror. "I thought you, of all people would understand." Crouch said, leaning back slowly. "Its wolf eats wolf out there Lupin, are you ready for it?"
"I try," Remus stammered, still recovering from Crouch's precious outburst.
"Well you might as well stop trying," Crouch replied, once again with his stoic aloofness. "I'm expelling you."
"What?"
Instead of giving him a straightforward answer, Crouch leaned forward again. "Would you curse a unaware and unarmed Death Eater?" He paused, waiting for Remus to reply, and when he got none, gave a triumphant smile. "I thought not."
----
...Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot and Prongs... With Sirius asleep downstairs and Vix gone (with a promise to return the next day), Remus found himself seeking solace in the one place he had turned to during all those years at Hogwarts, ironic or not, under the stars. James had joked endlessly about that calling Remus a centaur in wolf's clothing. He had laughed then… he still laughed now, come to think of it. Where had they gone, Wormtail and Prongs? James had left-- forever. The insufferable Prongs, their fearless leader surrendered finally to his own mortality. In his own childish way, Remus had believed James immortal, and now by a trick of fate… he was. Prongs would never age for him, or fade, or die, as vivid now as the day they met on the Hogwarts Express. Unlike Peter…
Peter or "little buddy" as Sirius had often called him as much to antagonize as out of affection. What had happened to Peter, the chubby, sweet boy so painfully naïve that he made them all laugh? Though to the casual outsider Peter might just seem like a tag-along, he was as integral to the Marauders and Moony, Padfoot, and Prongs. Not one of them had shared his innocence, his optimism, and now even that was gone… forever.
It was odd that the two least alike were the two that survived. After twelve years of adamant denial, Remus could only now admit that Sirius was the one he had missed the most. Devil-may-care and soaring with a temper to burn any inflated ego, Sirius looked a far cry from the introverted, introspective Remus, but he had formed a connection with Padfoot that his link with James and Peter could never match. Maybe it was the canine brotherhood, there had always been enough wolf in Sirius that he could understand Remus more than the herbivore and the rodent. Maybe it was that they were both bloody egomaniacs, maybe--
Maybe you should shut up and get to bed. Remus smiled inwardly, maybe, just maybe there was more of Sirius inside of his than he thought.
The moon was bright tonight. Even at this time in her cycle, she still had an effect on Remus, but for the first time in his life, he didn't care. For the first time in twelve brutal years, he was honestly happy. A cloud moved in the sky, partially obscuring the moon from view. He waited until it moved again, waited until he was basking in the soft silver half-light of the moon, the fickle goddess of his life, his nights, his nightmares. He closed his eyes, feeling the soft midnight drizzle fall lightly on his body, spread-eagled across the roof of a skyscraper in a city of buildings. And lying there… alone… Remus Lupin let out a long mournful howl.