|
Disclaimer: The characters and settings, and probably some of the teacups depicted herein are most likely the property of those *delightful* people at Warner Brothers by way of the inimitable J K Rowling. I am not making a penny from using them as the backdrop to a story written for my own amusement and that (hopefully!) of others. So there. email me at Sarah.Watkins@onyx.net Obligations Chapter Three: McGlynn ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ "He's been out cold for three hours now," said Sirius, urgently. "There's definitely something wrong with him." "Of course there is," snapped James as Lily turned to deliver both men a glare that would have silenced a falling tree. "He's GOT to have been back in contact with McGlynn! Think, Sirius. When was the last time he acted like this? Nearly ten years ago. You can't tell me you've forgotten." "If you two can't keep it down," said Lily, briskly, "I'm going to have to ask you to leave. Can't you see he needs to rest? For goodness sake." She returned to dabbing a cloth on Remus' forehead, stroking back his hair surprisingly gently. James nodded. "Sorry, Lily…and thank you for taking care of him." "Don't mention it," she said, shortly. "I know he doesn't like me…" "'s'not true," interrupted Sirius. "He just feels hurt that he hasn't got all his friends around him any more." "Whatever," said Lily, dismissively, waving her hand at Sirius imperiously. "But I can help him right now and that's all that matters. So either keep it down, or go have your little chat in the sitting room. Alright?" Remus moaned a little and Lily removed her hand from his shoulder. "He's coming round," she said, quietly, then raised her voice slightly as the two men rushed closer. "Give him some room, for heaven's sake!" "We can't tell! You saw what he changed in to, lying in the square. Just thank the gods that he is so weak that the attack left him unconscious! Claudia - he will become a monster with the ebb and flow of the moon's cycle! Do you think he will survive that? Claudia, understand this. We can't tell." "Papa…" Remus moaned. "Papa, no…" "It's happening again," whispered Sirius. "Forgive me, Remus," he whispered, looking down into his son's open eyes, the childish, terrified face. "This is for your own good." The young werewolf thrashed on the bed and Lily backed away slightly, letting the two men come forward to hold him down, preventing him from injuring himself. And Remus found himself looking down the barrel of his father's shotgun. He squeezed his eyes shut. "Remus?" called James, softly at first, but with ever-increasing firmness. "Remus! Wake up now. It's only a dream, Remus. Come on." There was a single gunshot. An agitated werewolf is not easy to hold down, but somehow Sirius and James managed it between them, waiting patiently for the moment to pass. And pass it did. Remus' eyes snapped open and he stared around him. Finally his breathing returned to normal, his eyes lost the taint of madness and he sat up, slowly. "It was McGlynn," he said, his voice low and awed. "All these years…I wouldn't believe it, couldn't believe it…but it was McGlynn!" "What was?" James put a supportive hand on the young man's shoulder. "What about McGlynn, Remus?" "McGlynn…it was McGlynn who shot my father." * * * The topic had been a taboo one all these years amongst the Marauders, but now there seemed nothing else to talk about. Lily, giving up the idea of a nice evening alone with her fiancé, retired to the kitchen to at least cook something halfway decent whilst the three young men talked in low voices in the other room. It was some two hours later before Peter arrived. She'd known he would. He called round regularly anyway in his capacity as the one who lived the closest, and she'd had no doubt that the lure of seeing Sirius' motorbike outside the door would draw him in. "Ah, Lily," he said in his faint squeak of a voice as she threw open the door, a smile so forced on her face that it was more of a grimace. "Is…is Sirius here?" "Come in, Peter," she said, resigned. "They're in the front room. All of them," she added, as an afterthought. "R..R..Remus too? Why, that's remarkable!" Peter clapped his pudgy little hands together. He constantly reminded Lily of Professor Flitwick. But she couldn't help liking him. For all that he seemed to be prematurely old-fashioned before his time, Peter was…vulnerable, somehow. She knew a faint surge of guilt. Today she had seen Remus Lupin as vulnerable for the first time and that had given her cause for alarm. She had spent the years since finding out about Lupin's…condition…convinced that he was likely to turn on them, any of them, at any time. Yet when she had seen the terror, the revulsion, the sheer unadulterated fear in the young wizard's face when he'd spoken of this McGlynn character… The pastry she was rolling out became ridiculously thin as she stopped paying attention to what she was doing. She swore softly and rolled it up ready to start again. Then she looked around, sighed, and pulled her wand out, waving it almost idly at the pastry. It vanished to be replaced almost instantly by a beautiful looking steak pie, not as yet cooked, but it was evident even from here that it was bursting with flavour. It was the sort of pie cows strove to become. She remembered the Home Maginomics Management classes at Hogwarts with a certain wistful fondness. The classes had been stopped now, of course. Times were changing, and young witches weren't necessarily expected to keep house and cook any more. But she liked that side of things. In that, she closely resembled her sister Petunia, who had married that foul Dursley man she had been engaged to seemingly forever last summer. Lily put the pie into the oven and busied herself waving her wand and watched in satisfaction as the vegetables prepared themselves whilst she allowed herself a cup of coffee and the Daily Prophet. * * * Remus had been delighted to see Peter. Of all his friends, Peter was the one who had been the first to stand up for him when his lycanthropy had been revealed. It had been Sirius and James who had come up with the brilliance of the animagi plan, but Peter had been the first to timidly promise Remus that their friendship wouldn't change, no matter what. After exchanging a few polite pleasantries with Remus and Sirius, Peter settled down by the fire that was by now burning in the grate. He was feeling only slightly annoyed because Remus had got the most comfortable chair, but he could graciously concede defeat to the poorly-looking man. He swirled his glass of pumpkin brandy around and regarded the pale young werewolf carefully. "Are you SURE it was McGlynn? I thought you had long ago accepted that it was your mother who shot your father." Remus shuddered. "I can see his face. At the window." He closed his eyes and pointed in a direction: the direction of his bedroom window if he had been lying in his bed that morning. "He was watching the whole thing. When I closed my eyes – which believe me, was preferable to looking down my own father's gun barrel – his was the face that stuck in my mind. I…I think I always knew that the gunshot didn't come from my mother. Yes, she was holding a gun and she threw it away from her at the sound." He said no more. The others knew and immediately sympathised. Believing she had shot and killed her beloved husband, Claudia Lupin had lost her mind entirely. She had gone in the space of days from being a light-hearted, loving woman to a screaming wreck of a human being who had spurned her son as the cause of her husband's death. The young Remus Lupin had been turned over to understanding and caring foster parents who knew how to deal with his – particular problem – and who held lengthy and detailed discussions with Albus Dumbledore as the boy neared schooling age. Claudia was now resident in St. Mungo's. Remus visited her faithfully every weekend, but every weekend he left feeling guilty, ashamed, miserable and, above all these other emotions, angry. For years he had sworn that if ever he came face to face with the werewolf who had left him to this lifetime of torment, he would cheerfully rip out the throat of the miscreant without so much as a second thought. Yet oddly, when that meeting had occurred, when Remus had been a boy of thirteen, he had found himself strangely drawn to the filthy stranger who had claimed virtually paternal rights over him. McGlynn. That was the only name Remus had ever known him by. It was how the man had introduced himself, how Albus Dumbledore had latterly spoken of him and was also the name that Remus automatically associated with the darker, more evil side of his own nature. "What I don't understand," came Peter's shrill voice, breaking the pensive silence that had descended, "is why these dreams have come back, Remus. What's prec..precip…um…" "Precipitated," murmured Remus, helping his stout friend out as he always had. Peter gave him a grateful look. "What's precipitated them, do you think?" "McGlynn," interjected Sirius from his drunken corner of the room. His three friends gave him a look bordering on fond annoyance. With infinite patience, in the tones of one who'd had to explain things over and over to Sirius before, James sighed. "We had that conversation already, Siri. Catch up at the back." "No, seriously," said Sirius, struggling to pull himself out of the slouch he'd fallen into. "McGlynn. Have we discounted the possibility he's back on the scene? After all, Moony. Last time you got these dreams so vividly, he showed up a few weeks later." That same deathly hush settled over the room. The three more sober Marauders exchanged glances with one another. Sirius exchanged glances with the goldfish in the corner of the room and tried, unsuccessfully, to outstare it. "It's…conceivable…" considered Remus finally. "Although wasn't he sent off with a flea in his ear by Dumbledore last time? Pain of pain, all that?" "Yes," said James. "But he was a big, strong, determined sort of…individual. He wanted you, Remus, and if it hadn't been for Dumbledore's intervention…he'd have had you, too. You'd be leaving your little life stories all over fire hydrants by now if he'd had his way, and don't try to deny it. You were tempted, too, weren't you?" The tone was not accusing, rather stating something that was a simple truth. Remus covered his eyes momentarily, then nodded, wordlessly. "To be a werewolf fighting against the morals of humanity is a difficult thing to be, James," he said. "To be a werewolf with no such issues…is very tempting sometimes." He looked out of the window at the ancient oak tree that stood at the gate of the house. Godric's Oak. The tree that had grown from the acorn planted by the founder of Gryffindor House the year he'd moved out to this settlement. For some reason, Lupin took strength from the oak. In the hundreds of years it had stood it had never changed. It still represented everything a Gryffindor held dear. Stability. Strength. Continuity. Remus sighed and pulled his attention away from the tree. "If McGlynn has returned," he said, carefully, "then the first thing we must do is to determine which of you will be the Defender." The Defender. The other Marauders, even the semi-comatose Sirius recoiled instantly. The Defender of the Lives was an old, old title, older even than Godric Gryffindor's oak. The Defender of the Lives swore a blood oath that they would carry out the execution of an individual whose actions threatened the very well being and safety of the wizarding community. When Remus had been thirteen, that dubious title had been shakily accepted by Sirius. Sirius shrugged now. "I'll do it," he said, softly. "No," came a shaky voice. "You can't, Sirius. You took that obligation on yourself once already. It has to fall to someone else." Remus looked up, his heart contracting with a curious mixture of grief and pride at how quickly his friends rallied to the cause of the greater good. "Thank you, Peter," he said, quietly. "Thank you." |
