Disclaimer: The characters and the world they inhabit all belong to J.K. Rowling.
Cave Canem
Chapter Ten: Full Moon Murders"Damn, you are so stubborn, Moony." Sirius stared out of the kitchen window, his knuckles white as he gripped the edge of the kitchen sink.
"I really wish you'd stop staring at the shed, Padfoot. It's bad enough that I have to go in there the day after tomorrow, but—"
"You don't have to go in there. Isn't that what I've been saying for the past half hour?"
Remus gathered the dirty dishes from the table as he rose from his chair. He placed the dishes in the sink and then just stood quietly beside his friend. There was no need to repeat his arguments. The Werewolf Registry and Werewolf Control Unit had promised "spot checks" of the confinement arrangements made by the werewolves suspected of killing Burdock, so Remus had to be locked up for a few months at least. As much as he wanted to run free with his friends, he couldn't risk it. Sirius understood this, and on some level, he agreed with it. He just disliked feeling helpless, and he needed time to accept the unavoidable.
"But why here? At least the cellar at James and Lily's is bigger, and we could all keep you company."
Remus wanted desperately to agree with Sirius. Confinement, whether at Greystone, here, or in the cellar, was difficult to handle. But far, far worse was loneliness. He had hated Greystone because he was bereft of his pack, and here, in the small shed, it would be just the same. "No," Remus said sadly.
"Why?" It was more of a cry than a word.
"I just don't think it's safe."
Sirius finally tore his eyes away from the shed to look across his shoulder at Remus. "That's just stupid. You know you can't get out of the cellar; you charmed the damn doors yourself. And even if you could get out, Prongs and I will be there, and we won't let you get out."
"No, I'm not worried about what I'll do—for a change."
Sirius's body language changed subtly. He realized that he and Remus were not following a variation of the usual "'I'm a dangerous, ravening beast,' 'Yes, but we love you anyway,'" script. Anger and exasperation, which had held his shoulders tense, fell away. Sirius turned to face Remus fully, ready to listen, open to whatever he had to say. He nodded, encouraging Remus to continue.
"The Werewolf Registry has the right to drop in unannounced wherever I'm planning to be confined. After Lily's close call last year, do you really think we should give them the right to drop in at the Potters'?"
Sirius's mouth fell open slightly as he realized what Remus was implying.
Remus shook his head. "No, I'm not saying that anyone working for the Registry is a Death Eater. It's just—well, Styles and that other one were willing to help Burdock murder you just because you're friends with a werewolf. What makes you think they'd be any more ethical when it comes to Lily? If the three of you are locked in the cellar with me, Lily's quite alone upstairs."
"Oh shit, Styles was the blue-eyed wizard with Burdock. He was the one who signed the letter letting you leave Greystone, wasn't he?"
Remus nodded.
"That does it, Remus. You are NOT going to be alone tomorrow night. I'm spending the night outside the shed to guard you."
Remus couldn't help but laugh. "I hardly think your presence will defuse the situation if Styles does drop by."
"Fine, James and Peter will guard you from Styles, but Padfoot will stay by the window of the shed and keep you company. I'm not letting you spend one more full moon without your packmate."
"I'd like that," Remus admitted.
* * * * *
"How many are we expecting tonight, Charlotte?" Simon asked as he grabbed one handle of an enormous basket full of clean linens for the "morning after" ward. Charlotte had charmed it to float a few feet above the floor, so Simon merely had to steer the basket as they walked up the stairs.
"Just eighteen. Remus set up some wards at Emily's house, so she won't be here anymore, and of course Remus and those others caught up in the Burdock situation don't have to come anymore—"
"That's good. None of them liked it here."
"—but the Ellard brothers said that they needed to come due to a problem at home."
"The Ellards? We haven't seen them in over a year."
Charlotte went through the double doors into the corridor of locked rooms. Charlotte and Simon tried to avoid calling them cells, even in their own minds. Simon continued up one more floor to the ward full of cots. He left the basket floating there. There would be plenty of time to come upstairs and make up the beds during the night. He headed back downstairs to help Charlotte check the rooms and to greet the early arrivals.
"It'll be nice to see Gavin Ellard again," Simon reflected. Although an eight-year age difference and different interests had kept the two from becoming true friends, they did have one important bond. They were both squibs from old wizard stock. That alone, even without Simon's positive attitude toward werewolves, was enough to make them friendly acquaintances. "We squibs have to stick together," Simon thought with a smile.
He remembered several conversations they had had about growing up jealous of their magically gifted siblings. Gavin had said, "I was so jealous of Leslie when we were growing up, but after we were bitten, I realized that I had been the lucky one. I grew up knowing that I'd have to lead a Muggle life, but poor Leslie got through five years at Hogwarts before it all got ripped away from him. He's had a harder time adjusting."
As Simon pushed open the double doors, he caught a faint whiff of the cleaning potions they had used last month to cleanse the rooms of blood. It had taken him several months of working here before he had dared to ask one of the werewolves if they could smell blood from the previous month anyway. "Of course," was the reply.
"Is Lily coming tonight?" he asked.
"She promised to be here in the morning. That's when we need her the most," Charlotte replied as looked closely at the hinges of a door. The hinges were glowing with a pale blue light from a spell designed to reveal hidden cracks and stresses. Weaknesses would appear as white lines.
"It's nice of her to keep volunteering even though Remus won't be here," Simon said as he began looking into each of the rooms, checking that the cabinets high on the walls were still secure and looking for anything that might harm the werewolves during the night.
"She offered to come for the whole night. She said that her husband won't be home—he wants to keep an eye on Remus—and she didn't want to sit home alone. But I told her to stay home and get a good night's sleep for the baby's sake."
* * * * *
Peter paced in his bedroom, looking at his watch occasionally. He didn't dare be late—he didn't want to imagine the consequences if they thought he was backing out—but he didn't like the idea of being early, either. The less time spent with his new acquaintances, the better. There was a soft knock at the door.
"Peter? Are you awake?" asked his mother from the other side of the door.
Peter considered pretending that he was asleep and not answering. He had gone upstairs early on the pretext that he was ill—the same excuse he had used to get out of going to Remus's. He didn't want his mother to come in and see that he was dressed to go out. However, an alibi might be a good idea, so he needed to let his mother know that he was indeed home.
"I'm really sleepy, Mum."
"Do you want anything before I go to my room?"
"No thank you. I'll talk to you in the morning. Good night."
"Good night, Dear. I hope you feel better tomorrow."
Peter looked at his watch again and then pressed his ear to the door. He picked up a black umbrella from his bed, opened the door carefully, and made his way down to the fireplace unseen. He lit a self-extinguishing fire and threw in a pinch of Floo Powder. "Thirteen Oaks," he said and stepped into the green flames.
He stepped out of an enormous fireplace. "Even Sirius wouldn't have to duck his head for this mantle," he thought. He was in a two-story entrance hall with a highly polished parquet floor and a curving staircase. "An old wizard house, if they built a fireplace like this in the entrance hall." A house-elf wearing a neat white linen pillowcase stepped out of the shadows under the staircase.
"The master is waiting for you in the library, sir. Please follow me." The pair of doors to their left opened at their approach, but it was not a library. It was a formal sitting room decorated in cream and gold. The house-elf led Peter through the room to a pair of doors on the opposite wall and knocked.
"Come in," a man called from inside. The house-elf gestured for Peter to go in before it scurried back the way it had come. Peter took a deep, shaky breath before opening the door.
The wizard with the silver ring—Peter still did not know his name—was in one of a pair of burgundy leather wingchairs flanking a fireplace with an elaborately carved mantelpiece. A heavy book was open in his lap. He watched Peter enter and close the door. He glanced at the umbrella in Peter's hand.
"Is it properly prepared?"
"Yes, sir," Peter answered.
The wizard returned to reading the book. Peter didn't dare come farther into the room without being told to do so. He looked around the room with furtive glances. Tall windows were on either side of the fireplace, but draperies of heavy silk completely blocked the view. The other three walls were covered floor to ceiling in bookcases. The bookcase on the far wall seemed misty, and Peter realized that a spell prevented him from reading the titles. The wizard suddenly rose and returned his book to the misty bookcase.
"If you disappoint me in any way tonight, Pettigrew, do you know what I will do?"
"Torture me? Kill me?" Peter wondered. He shook his head and whispered, "No, sir."
"I'll make sure your werewolf friend learns who killed his mother. That's one thing I've learned in the past year. Werewolves are fiercely loyal to their families, to their pack." He spoke the last word with disdain and disgust. "He'd tear you apart if he knew, wouldn't he?"
"Yes, sir." Peter dropped his gaze to the carpet. "But I only killed her so Hollings wouldn't torture her."
"Follow me," the wizard ordered and opened a door in the center of the misty bookcase. Peter hurried to follow, risking only one glance at the charmed bookcase as he passed close by. The titles were just as obscured at close range.
The wizard led Peter through an unoccupied card room and into a sparsely furnished room in which four people waited. All four, three men and a woman, wore Muggle clothing. They watched Peter and the other wizard carefully, alertly, but otherwise seemed unafraid.
"I hope you are all still looking forward to running free tonight, to hunting tonight," the wizard began.
"Werewolves," Peter realized.
"If you have any second thoughts," the wizard continued, "this is your last chance to back out." Somehow, Peter doubted they would be allowed to back out and live. The wizard waited silently, looking each one in the eye in turn. All but one man dropped their gaze, but no one spoke. "Excellent. My colleague here," he put his hand on Peter's shoulder, "has prepared a portkey to take you to the village we are visiting tonight. If you are touching this umbrella when instructed to do so, you will be transported by magic to our destination. Some of you will be pleased to know that all of the local inhabitants are witches or wizards."
"My favorite prey," said the werewolf who dared to stare back at the wizard. Peter had to suppress a shudder at the sight of the werewolf's cold smile.
The wizard flicked his wand at a wardrobe in the corner, causing the door to swing open. Six or seven robes, plain and dark-colored, hung inside. "Change before you go. You'll stand out if you wear Muggle clothing." Then he addressed Peter. "Another colleague and I will apparate to Hogsmeade. You will travel with them." He gestured his head toward the werewolves. "We will meet you where you arrive unless people are around. In that case, we will meet you at a stile at the end of the road leading out of the village and into the hills."
* * * * *
"I vote that we don't let Moony decide the menu alone anymore," Sirius said as he poked through the Irish stew with the serving spoon, helping himself to more.
"I vote that people who are having third helpings of stew aren't allowed to turn around and pretend they don't like it," Remus replied with a slight smile.
"I'm just eating the vegetables. I'm not crazy about the mutton. Too gamey."
James laughed. "This from a man who chases and eats squirrels and rabbits."
"I only eat them when I'm a dog."
Remus reached across the table, picked up Sirius's bowl, and placed it on the floor. "So eat, Padfoot."
"Very funny," Sirius griped as he buttered another roll and ate it in three bites. Then he stood up and circled the table. He started to reach for his bowl but transformed in mid-reach. He buried his snout in the bowl and bolted down the stew, even licking the bowl clean.
"Like it now?" Remus asked. In answer, Padfoot licked the traces of gravy off his snout. He jumped up, putting his forepaws in Remus's lap, and licked his face. Remus laughed, squirming to escape the doggy kisses. "Do you want more?" He asked still laughing.
Sirius transformed back, a wide grin on his face. "No thanks," he replied as he stood up. "But I can understand why you like it now."
"Mum used to make it for me," Remus said. His smile became more wistful, but remained. "I guess I was just feeling nostalgic, but from now on, I'll stay away from mutton when you guys are coming over. Peter and Lily probably wouldn't like it any more than you two did."
"No, it's fine," James protested.
"You only had one bowl, but about five rolls," Remus pointed out. He propped up his elbows on the table and buried his face in his hands.
"Are you O.K., Moony?" Sirius asked as he put a hand on his friend's shoulder.
"Headache. How much time do I have?"
Sirius glanced at his watch. "Twenty-seven minutes. Why don't you go lie down on the sofa while James and I clean up in here."
Remus nodded and rose from the table. He paused in the doorway and looked back. "Before I forget to say it, remember that you shouldn't come near the shed as humans."
"We won't," James promised. "And if Styles does show up, Sirius will stay a dog and let me do the talking."
"Yeah, yeah, yeah," Sirius grumbled. "But I might piss on his leg."
* * * * *
Peter looked up from his watch. "It's time to go. Please touch the umbrella." He held out the umbrella so all four werewolves could easily touch some part of its length. One of the werewolves hung back a moment longer than the others. When he grabbed hold of the umbrella as well, Peter released a breath that he didn't know he had been holding. "Thank God. If one of them didn't come, I'd probably get blamed."
There was a sudden tug at his belly as the portkey activated. Peter stumbled when his feet hit the ground, but he fell against the werewolf beside him and managed to stay on his feet. All four werewolves seemed to have landed on their hands and feet. "Muggles. They aren't used to portkeys." Peter looked around for witnesses to their arrival, but there were none. He was pleased to note that they were within a few feet of the exact spot he had intended the portkey to bring them. They were in a field just outside Hogsmeade. The Forbidden Forest loomed nearby, claiming the field with deep shadows.
"Now what?" the female werewolf asked. Peter realized with a start that she was asking him. He was in charge until the other wizard arrived.
"Now we wait," Peter said. He hoped he sounded calm and authoritative. "Just pretend you're James," he told himself.
One of the werewolves, the one who had dared to stare at the silver-ringed wizard earlier, approached Peter and stood within a foot of him. He stared down into Peter's eyes. For a moment, Peter considered looking down. "Look away," he heard Sirius say in his mind. "Looking him in the eyes is a challenge." But Peter didn't look away. "Why should I back down? He's just a werewolf, just like Moony. I'm probably the only human they'll ever meet who's spent full moon after full moon in the company of a werewolf." That thought gave him a boost of unexpected courage.
"Most wizards get nervous around us," the werewolf said as he slowly circled around Peter. "Aren't you afraid we'll bite you, Little Wizard?"
"Not for another—" Peter glanced at his watch. It was counting down the local time to moonrise, just as it did every twenty-nine days. "—fourteen minutes, I'm not. And I don't intend to stick around for that."
The werewolf leaned down and whispered in Peter's ear. "I could bite you right now. I don't have to wait for the moon, Little Wizard."
"Go ahead," Peter said. "I know you're only contagious when you're a wolf. I'm not stupid."
The werewolf glared at Peter for another moment and then walked several yards away without a backward glance. He had counted on Peter believing the only common misconception that werewolves are always contagious. "Being friends with a werewolf has its advantages," Peter thought with a smile.
"I see you all made it here in one piece," said a woman's voice behind Peter.
He lit his wand as he whirled around. "Lumos!"
"Put that out!" she commanded. The woman who spoke wore a witch's robe, and the silver-ringed wizard stood beside her, so Peter complied instantly.
"Nox," he murmured, but he noted that her eyes, dilated in the dark shadows, had reflected his wandlight. "Another werewolf."
"Jumpy, isn't he?" she said to the wizard, and he nodded with a smile.
"He's still new." He looked beyond Peter at the Muggle werewolves. "Leave your robes here. The portkey, the umbrella, will be left here as well. Ten minutes after moonset, the portkey will return you to my house if you are touching it. Make sure that you are back in time." Then he looked at Peter again. "Be here at moonset. Help them if necessary. If they aren't all here by the deadline, go into the village, find the stragglers, and kill them. Do not allow them to be captured and identify me. You may leave until then."
Peter disapparated without looking at the werewolves again.
* * * * *
Moving in opposite directions, Simon and Charlotte each made their way down one side of the corridor, checking that the doors were locked as they went. Moonrise was imminent. He paused outside one door and but did not violate the occupant's privacy by looking in the barred window.
"Good night, Gavin," Simon said.
Gavin did not reply, and Simon moved on. Simon had tried to strike up a conversation with Gavin when he and his brother had arrived, but Gavin had said that he wasn't in the mood to talk. Simon didn't let it bother him. Many werewolves were less than social the day of the full moon. Gavin would probably be friendlier tomorrow.
Simon had just reached the end of the corridor, when he heard someone say, "Alohomora," and heard a lock slide back. He turned to see Leslie Ellard walk out of his room holding a wand.
"Is something wrong, Leslie?" Simon asked.
Leslie ignored him and began to magically unlock and open first his brother's door and then several others.
"Leslie! What are you doing?" Charlotte demanded as she strode toward him. "There isn't time for—" She fell silent and stopped in her tracks when Leslie pointed his wand at her.
"They may not allow monsters to attend Hogwarts, but I did learn a few things before they threw me out," Leslie said calmly. "STUPEFY!" Charlotte crumpled to the floor. Simon made an angry move toward him, but Leslie immediately spun around and pointed the wand at him as well
"What the hell are you doing?" Philip demanded. He and several other released werewolves had come to the doors of their rooms to see what was happening.
"I'm showing you that you don't have to be sheep anymore," Leslie said. "It's high time you spent your nights as wolves the way we were meant to do. It's time you ran free."
"You are not going to make me a murderer," Lydia said angrily. "I chose to come here so I couldn't run free."
"Get back in your cell," a man growled. "We won't let you kill Charlotte and Simon."
Leslie was the only one armed with a wand, but he didn't know where to point it. He backed up to the wall as six naked, angry werewolves closed in on him. Gavin hung back beside Simon, his head bowed.
"I'm sorry, Simon," Gavin said quietly. "They didn't give me a choice."
Simon watched the stalemate in the center of the corridor. Leslie didn't dare stun one for fear that the others would attack. None of the other werewolves made the first move; they merely stared him down.
Gavin suddenly shuddered, and Simon realized that the moon would be the only victor tonight. He shoved Gavin backward into the nearest cell and locked it, but then looked back at the others horrified. The transformation had begun, and even the ones who wanted to be in their cells were now physically unable to get that far. There simply wasn't time for Simon to drag seven transforming werewolves into their rooms—but there was time to drag Charlotte into one. He grabbed under her arms and pulled her backward into a room. He quickly checked that her wand was still in her pocket before pulling the door closed.
The door opened out, and the wolves would probably push against the door, but between the door and the doorjamb was a crack wide enough to insert claws. Werewolves were clever; soon, one or more of them would start clawing at the door to open it. "Without magic, there's no way to lock it from inside. I could hold onto the bars to keep it closed, but they might bite my hands. My belt!" He untied his belt, threaded it around three bars, and wrapped the ends around his hands. He braced his foot against the wall, ready to pull and hold the door closed. "WAKE UP, CHARLOTTE! I need you to lock this door or this is going to be a long night! CHARLOTTE! WAKE UP!"
* * * * *
James's parents had taken him to a zoo when he was a young boy. He vividly remembered the image of a tiger pacing restlessly back and forth in his small cage. He watched sadly as a large black dog, his best friend, paced in just the same way. The dog was not caged by bars or walls, but by friendship. He paced in front of the small metal shed containing their other friend. He could no more move away from the shed than he could release their friend from the curse that sent him in there. As agonized screams were torn from Remus's throat against his will, Padfoot flattened his ears back against his head. He looked up at the stag with sorrowful eyes and whimpered. Prongs rubbed his nose against the back of the dog's head. "I know, Sirius. I hate this part too."
Author's Notes:
"I've been living off rats mostly. Can't steal too much food from Hogsmeade: I'd draw attention to myself."—Sirius Black in Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire
I just couldn't resist making pre-Azkaban Sirius be a picky eater.
"Poor old Snuffles," said Ron…."He must really like you, Harry….Imagine having to live off rats." You're so right, Ron. You're so right.
Leslie Ellard was forced to leave Hogwarts when he became a werewolf because he was at Hogwarts before Dumbledore became Headmaster. In Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban, Remus says, "It seemed impossible that I would be able to come to Hogwarts….But then Dumbledore became Headmaster, and he was sympathetic." I imagine that Dumbledore became Headmaster very shortly before Remus's first year. The Ellard brothers are several years older.
Although this chapter does contain a quotation from my story "Painting the Town Red," the werewolf lore here violates the werewolf lore there. In "Painting the Town Red," I decided to have werewolf bites be contagious all month; in this story, werewolves are only contagious while in wolf form. But you can handle the contradiction, can't you?