A TALE OF RIVALS
By Elk99
Chapter 25
Firewhiskey had never tasted so good, Titus Yarrow decided, sinking in to one of the plush armchairs in his office at St. Mungo's. After hours of working on Edmund Fawley, it was too late to return home to celebrate Christmas with his family, and had instead invited Madam Avlov and Ruger Vitoff to his office for a much-needed drink before the two departed to their respective residences in Koldovstoretz and Berlin.
"Thank you both, for your assistance and discretion in this matter," he said to the two who also nursed glasses of the amber liquid. "I shudder to think of what would have happened without your expertise."
"If I may be blunt," Madam Avlov began, "I was happy to help, but I think none of us would have been here on Christmas if it were not the young Fawley."
"This is hardly the time, Irina," Vitoff warned the Russian woman.
"It is never the time, Ruger," the woman pushed on. "We have here a clear example of forbidden magic used by the wealthy, kept away from the countless other cases who may need it. How many family members need to be in this situation before the Fawleys reconsider their stances on Grimm?"
"Not every Healer is as skilled as I am," Titus answered, "and I say that with little arrogance, only objectivity. I had my doubts about the procedure and I definitely would not have been able to pull it off without the both of your expertise."
"Perhaps if Grimm was overturned Healers would not feel underqualified to deal with such matter," Madam Avlov volleyed back.
"My stance hasn't changed, Madam Avlov."
The trio whirled around to face the door of Titus Yarrow's office, where Ned Fawley himself was standing in the doorway.
"You are right, of course," the normally powerful voice said weakly. "Perhaps it makes me a hypocrite, but it is the way things are. Your practices saved my son from a life of complete and total discrimination, but I shudder to think of their use in the wrong hands."
"Mister Fawley-"
"It is Lord Director Fawley, Madam Avlov," Ned Fawley said, this time with an icy vigor, his fatigue temporarily forgotten. "Lord because I am the Heir to a Hereditary seat, Director because I lead the Department of International Cooperation. As such I am well aware that the Russian Committee has placed you on House Arrest within the Halls of Koldovstoretz. You helped my son because I called in a favor. You will keep your silence because if you do not, I will make sure Magical Britain gives the Russian Committee complete access to our resources when you must flee your government. Am I understood?"
The Russian woman gulped nervously before nodding stiffly. Apart from the Fawley family being ostentatiously wealthy, Ned Fawley was a well-respected Diplomat even in Russia. "Of course… Lord Director," she responded.
"I will not deny you your social interaction with these gentlemen," Ned gestured to a frozen Ruger Vitoff and a nervous Titus Yarrow. "Particularly because yes, you all did save Edmund, and my family is incredibly grateful. But when you are done here, the Hit Wizards are ready to escort you back to Koldovstoretz."
With a flick of his robes, Ned Fawley departed back down the hall, likely to return to his family.
"No offense, Madam," Titus said as he poured a healthy amount of firewhiskey into the Russian's glass, "but I have often, in my experience with Ned Fawley's paternal urges, found a second glass to take the edge off afterwards."
While the students were gone for Winter Break, Remus Lupin paced Albus Dumbledore's office with a great deal of nervous tension. The full moon was two days away and his initial plan had been to go to Germany to the Black Forest, whose Werewolf Clan was relatively tame and enjoyed a great deal of order. It was where he had spent most of his time after his friends, Lily and James and Peter had been betrayed by Sirius Black.
A distraught Remus had fled Britain as Minister Bagnold and Director Crouch put in place even harsher laws on the werewolf population in response to the British Tribes' allegiance to Lord Voldemort. Facing discrimination in his home country, a good friend in the French Ministry had introduced him to the tribe which, with the approval of the ICW, had taken root in the Black Forest, living peacefully under a stable hierarchy and away from the interferences of the German Chancellery.
The tribe was poor, but compared to some of the tribes in Britain, they were a breath of fresh air. They bemoaned the discrimination of their kind, but also did their best to alleviate it by making smart deals with the German government. Albus Dumbledore's arrival one day had been the splash of cold-water Remus had needed to return to Britain, but no sooner had he come back then he remembered his reasons for fleeing in the first place.
Now he was back in Britain to help the Fawley child, but that meant exposing himself to the Fawley family. His secret would be out. Wracking his brain, Remus mentally went over everything he knew about Edmund Fawley. The boy was at the top of the Third Year Slytherins, third in Defense behind Harry Potter and Hermione Granger. Unlike Draco Malfoy and his gang, Edmund showed little hostility to Harry, or to the muggleborn students. In fact, there even seemed to be a level of respect between the two boys and their respective friend groups. He knew from Filius that the boy was far ahead of his class in Charms, and of course, his Quidditch skills were adequate enough to possibly play in a Secondary League someday.
The boy's grandfather was a School Governor, his mother a Member of the Wizengamot, and his father a Department Head. As long as their prejudice was not too strong, they could probably protect his position at the school.
The floo flamed to life, bringing Remus back to attention. Dumbledore was now greeting a tall man, wearing pitch black robes streaked with red. The man had a shock of brown hair, and his chiseled face was complemented by a pair of distinguished looking horn-rimmed spectacles.
"Director Fawley," Dumbledore shook the man's hand. "My condolences for the attack on your children. I am happy to hear that they are alright."
"Thank you, Headmaster," Ned responded. "We are fortunate that neither Edmund nor Sullivan were injured beyond help."
What remained unspoken, perhaps out of respect to Remus, was the parent's relief that neither of his children would be turning into werewolves once a month. As it was, Ned Fawley looked Remus up and down, his gaze speculative, but not discriminatory. Ned Fawley had a penchant for being fair. Remus hoped that it would carry onto this interaction.
I do not believe you gentlemen have been acquainted, Dumbledore broke the silence that ensued. "Ned, this is Professor Remus Lupin. Remus has graciously agreed to lend his assistance to Edmund."
Remus was quietly pleased that Ned Fawley wasted no time in offering his hand in greeting. The man obviously knew what he was, perhaps it was only because of his sons' foray with Greyback that he was showing Remus any courtesy at all.
"Professor Lupin," Ned said. "I previously requested the Headmaster's help when there was some degree of uncertainty of the status of the lycanthropy. There is still uncertainty over how it will manifest, but our specialists assure us that it did not progress enough to lead to a full transformation."
"That is very fortunate," Remus acquiesced. "I can do my best to help Edmund grapple with any symptoms that may arise… discreetly of course."
"And you will be compensated," Ned Fawley commented off-handedly. "What do you think is a reasonable wage?"
"My Hogwarts' salary is well enough, thank you, Director," Remus said. "This is merely me trying to help your son."
Ned Fawley stared at him blankly. Dumbledore seemed to be ignoring the discussion. Even Fawkes was quiet. Remus intuitively knew he had said the wrong thing.
"With all due respect, Professor Lupin," Ned finally broke the silence. "You are providing a service to the House of Fawley, and you will be paid accordingly, and ideally, you will purchase yourself clothes that befit your station as a Professor and retainer of the House of Fawley."
There was no room to argue the point. Ned Fawley was resolute. After settling on a salary, which to Remus was more money than he knew what to do with, the imposing Ministry official took his leave, stepping back through the fireplace to stay with his son at St. Mungo's. Remus would be paying a visit to the child later in the day.
"How serious is this Albus?" Remus turned to Dumbledore, who had continued to sit at his desk, now sucking on one of his beloved lemon drops.
"The Fawley connections… are vast, Remus," Dumbledore said carefully, the twinkle in his eyes still present even if his serene gaze had been replaced with one of intensity. "It was quite a scare for the family. Sullivan is the heir and Edmund… well you know how bright he is. I believe that the specialists the family brought in to work on young Edmund have concluded that he may have adopted certain habits attributed to lycanthropy…"
"It was not the full moon…"
"Of course, there's no risk of a transformation, but no one in recent memory has survived a werewolf bite not given to them during the full moon."
"Perhaps I won't be needed for long then," Remus pondered.
"Perhaps," Dumbledore acquiesced. "It could also be an opportunity to combat prejudice by gaining an ally in the Fawley family.
"They have never voted for any of Umbridge's proposals as far as I'm aware," Remus protested, seemingly for the sake of it.
"Nor have they ever opposed them," Dumbledore stressed quietly. "We have a real, political and peaceful chance at change, Remus. Should we not take it?"
When Edmund woke up in the private wing at St. Mungo's, the lights were dimmed and his family was absent. He felt a growling restlessness within him, and despite his weakened state, an unnatural urge to destroy everything in sight.
"You need to control it," a voice to his left interrupted his agitated thoughts.
"Professor Lupin?" Edmund asked in surprise, too shocked to fully register the snarl that emanated from his throat.
"How are you, Edmund," the Professor asked carefully.
"Anxious," Edmund growled. "Angry."
"That's the wolf in you," Lupin responded. "You will have to learn to channel it in a healthy fashion."
"How do you know about that?" Edmund asked bewildered, and slightly frightened. Should word get out that he suffered from a werewolf attack, his clout among his Housemates in Slytherin would drastically hemorrhage.
"Relax, Edmund," Professor Lupin said kindly. "I have spent many years working with werewolves, and I'm familiar with many of their symptoms, and I have been brought in to ensure you can handle the urges that might arise, even if you are never at risk of transformation."
"Healer Yarrow told me that the lycanthropy did not have time to alter my soul," Edmund said quietly. "Does this not clear me of lycanthropy?"
Remus shook his head sadly. "You will likely suffer from lycanthropic effects for the rest of your life, Edmund."
Upon seeing his student's thunderstruck expression, Remus hurriedly pressed on. "You should never transform into a werewolf because the lycanthropy did not reach your soul. Your Healer is absolutely correct. That does not mean the lycanthropy does not still exist within your person."
"I don't understand, sir," Edmund said, cringing at how vulnerable he sounded.
"I may not be the best person to explain this," Remus sighed, patting the boy's hand comfortingly. "But consider yourself in two forms – two forms which together create the Edmund Fawley that is here before me today. One is accidental, the other substantial. Clear so far?"
Seeing Edmund nod his assent, the weary Defense Professor pushed on. "Simply put, your accidental form is the fact that you were born to Ned and Elodie Fawley and all the genetic qualities which come from that, your brown hair, your need for glasses, and your height, all that which physically makes up the body, inside and out. That is accidental. Your substantial form falls into what we call the soul."
"What about my identity as a Wizard, sir?" Edmund asked. "Is that accidental or substantial?"
"That's the hundred galleon question," Remus answered. "And I do not know. Pureblood supremacy doctrine would consider your possession of a magical core to be accidental, it came from your parents and is inherently in your blood. Others are more cautious of this… how could a muggleborn witch or wizard develop a magical core from non-magical parents and grandparents, they rightfully ask. It's a complicated question that many spend years studying, particularly on the Continent."
"So," Edmund began to connect the dots. "My substantial form is unaffected by the lycanthropy, so I'll never be a werewolf?"
"Correct," Remus said, "The change requires the lycanthropy to take both forms of your person. However there is enough lycanthropy in your bloodstream to catalyze urges including a preference for rare meat, anger and aggression, and an overly protective disposition."
Edmund's mind was abuzz as he tried to make sense of what Professor Lupin had told him. "Shouldn't the Lycanthropy go away? Like can't the Healers take it out and with it, so are these… qualities?"
"No Edmund," Remus said gently. "I'm not a Healer and I could barely explain what I already have, but Lycanthropy is magical, and the strain you received comes from one of the most powerful werewolves alive. No other werewolf would have been able to do such damage to you. You're lucky to be alive."
"Forgive me, Sir," Edmund said bitterly. "I don't feel very lucky."
"Get over it," Remus barked, the stress of the last twenty-four hours catching up with him, notwithstanding the stress of the upcoming Full Moon. "I forgive you, but just know that there are many who have been bit by Fenrir Greyback during the Full Moon. All of them turned. The others he has attacked outside of the Full Moon have died. Trust me when I say you are lucky." 28 Tuesday
Edmund looked away briefly, abashed. He knew he was lucky, and while it hadn't been said outright, he knew his family had pulled some strings. The woman – Madam Avlov – from Russia, likely was not simply visiting St. Mungos when he was brought in. She must've been Portkeyed over due to her own skill. "I'm sorry, sir," he finally said, finally meeting Professor Lupin's gaze. "You are right, and I've been ungrateful."
The tired Professor's face softened at the apology. "You've had quite a fright," he said, patting him lightly on the arm. "I think it's safe to excuse the occasional outburst."
The two chuckled together for a moment before he continued. "I am afraid I cannot be here with you tomorrow or the next few days, Edmund. But I want you to pay attention in a few days when it's a Full Moon. Journal how you feel. You can always write to me. When you return to Hogwarts we will check in and ensure your adjustment is smooth. Being at home can be different then the dormitory.
"In the meantime, Mr. Fawley," Lupin's voice takes on a more professional tone as he stands up from his seat by the bed. "Your Father tells me you are somewhat proficient in Occlumency. This is another advantage. I myself am not proficient in the art, but I strongly advise you to use it liberally over the next few days."
With that Remus Lupin swept out of the room. Edmund barely heard the door close behind his Professor before he was sound asleep again, still exhausted from his ordeal.
When he awoke it was to see his Mother sitting next to him in the Hospital chair as she read through her correspondence.
"How are you dear," she asked upon noticing his blinking eyes.
"Better, mum," he whispered, and it was true. He could smell much more then he ever thought was possible, but it did not bother him as it may have had he realized it earlier. The lights seemed brighter too, but it was manageable. Truthfully, he was surprised at how refreshed he felt.
"You gave us all quite the fright," Elodie Fawley said softly, now holding her son's hand. "Merry was so worried. She'll be rather cross to not be here now that you're up."
"Did she already go back to Berlin?" he asked his mother.
"Goodness no," Madam Fawley chuckled. "She's hardly left your side, understandably. Master Vitoff gave her some time off. In fact she should be here soon."
"I'm glad I got the family back together again," Edmund smiled despite his mother's disapproving look at his attempt at humor.
"They caught Fenrir Greyback," Madam Fawley said. "Madam Bones has agreed to a closed trial with only the charge of assault on an Auror, and your name will remain out of any official documents. It will still be enough to put him in Azkaban for life."
Edmund felt a sigh of relief at his mother's words. For a family like theirs, to be a victim of a werewolf attack meant courting social catastrophe. Were the Slytherins to find out, he'd lose his place in the House and would be looked upon with something between pity and disgust among the strict Blood Purists. Being honest with himself meant privately acknowledging he'd use the situation to is advantage had one of his rivals bore the same misfortune.