Appologies: I'm so very sorry it's taken me so long to update this story, but school and work commitments have stopped me writing more than a few sentences at a time.
Note: Please remember to review, and more lovely chapters will follow as soon as I get time to write it.
Come with me, come back a few decades to where two small children, twin boys, are playing out in the street of a wizarding village.
Come with me, back to the beginning of Voldemort's campaign of terror, when wizards and witches still allowed their children to play on their streets come dark.
Come with me, back to a night when a foolish Lycan couldn't apparate away from the village in time and burst through his own front door a bloodthirsty beast.
++++++++
Romulus growled as he tore off his mask and threw it down upon the bed. What was Remus doing here!? Nothing short of a direct order from the Order would have made his twin come ... and the Order would only have returned if He Who Must Not Be Named had returned. Or maybe Dumbledore's mind was finally giving way to senility.
"Surely he wasn't serious." The Alpha muttered to himself, pouring a goblet of butterbeer. He only turned his head when the soft slap of canvas on canvas alerted him to another presence.
"He sounded perfectly serious to me." Spoke an elderly looking wizard. Still stocky dispite his age, his hair thick, long and white, he had all the vitality of a man half his age. His dark amber eyes, almost brown, flashed in the candle light. His name was Bran, and before Romulus, he'd been the Alpha.
The younger wearwolf smiled in greeting and offered him a butterbeer.
"You were just itching for a chance to put us up against each other, weren't you, You old grifter?" He accused once the pair of them were settled in their seats. Bran grinned a near-toothless smile at him.
"Of course, my lad. If anyone can beat your lazy ass, it'll be your brother."
"Remus is a teacher," Romulus scoffed "I've beaten him in every fight we've ever had."
"One must be a Master before one can teach, Pup."
Romulus gave the older man scandalized look, his head pulled back, eye wide and back stiff, every inch the offended leader. Bran sighed sadly, sipping at his drink with the air of a man who knows he's right and knows likewise that he won't be believed. Like Cassandra all those thousands of years ago, he thought. Not that Romulus would appreciate the mention of a witch, even one from the same pantheon as his victorious namesake.
"You belive him, didn't you?" Romulus demanded, his otherwise calm voice betraying itself in the ragged edge and the hard angles of his shoulders.
"Completely. Others did too. Even if you do beat him, this topic won't be so easily closed."
"I will beat him, and then we 'Will' all forget that - that - Nonsense! It's none of our business!" Romulus tore into a piece of bread that had been left there for his return, glaring at the tent flaps before spitting the half chewed bread back out, casting the bread itself out after it. This behavior earned him nothing but a raised eyebrow from the elder which was studiously ignored. "Why can they not give me a ham sandwich at least?! This is a meeting of Lycans, why do they not serve meat?!"
"It is not the bread's fault that your brother is right." Bran stated calmly, supping directly from his bottle. Romulus turned slowly on his heel to face the old man with the glinting yellow eyes, and the old man knew he'd stumbled across some important line, walked blindfolded into unmarked territory known only to this too rash youngster and his twin, and had stepped on something sleeping that reared and screamed it's presence.
"Out."
A cold hard order that raised Bran's hackles. But he obeyed, setting his butterbeer down primly, giving his young leader a cold shoulder when he began stuttering an explanation. At the tent's opening he turned back for a moment.
"If you need my help, you will have to ask for it from now on, Master Lupin."
With that the old wolf exited the tent for the early morning half light in which the meeting had finally finished. He prowled the space between his tent and the Alpha's, finding it satisfactory for his idea, raised his wrinkled old head and gave a sniff, before apparently following a trail.
Romulus watched this little display with confusion. What was Bran doing? Angry at himself for watching his mentor and also for letting the wolf control him as it had, he pushed the flaps back into place, intending to find his bed.
+++++++++++++
Come with me and see the beast smell tender human flesh, see the flash of sinew attack the oldest twin, see the anguish in his brother's eyes and the beast magically thrown off.
Come with me, see the beast attack the remaining twin, see an almost identical patch of blood appear, see the boys' father rush out and shoot the wolf dead, and the same beast slowly turn back into the corpse of a man the father recognizes.
Come with me, see the mediwitches rushing to replace lost blood, see them apply the herb wolfsbane before the bite wounds heal, see them fail.
+++++++++++++
Remus, while all this was happening at his brother's tent, could be found sitting at a wooden table, his mask slightly skewed. He was surrounded by younger werewolves who questioned him constantly on the revelation he'd been sent to deliver, and save for the silence when he chose to reply to one of these, they were unrelenting. As far as the professor was concerned, he had come to a belief that there were too much questioning and not nearly enough drinking going on for his liking.
"Please," He raised a hand from the table in a gesture to hush the small crowd. It worked for a moment, although the wolfish eyes behind those masks stated all too clearly that they had more questions, and the eager smell they were giving off told him that their awe of him wouldn't keep the tide back for long. "It's late - or rather, it's early. Unless you wish to continue drinking with me until the meeting starts anew, may I suggest you all go back to your Packs?"
Murmuring, debate on whether or not they could infact keep pace with him until noon, likely as not without any food in their bellies. He waited, straightening his mask as he did so. Feet began shifting, someone tried a short question which was properly ignored by the Lone Wolf. He picked up what was left of his drink and made a show of downing it and calling for another. The feet began to move away, farewells following them out the door. When the last of his little crowd left there was only him and the barmaid left in the empty tent.
"You still want that drink?" She asked, the grin ovbious on her unmasked face. He smiled in return, knowing that she couldn't see it but it didn't matter. He shook his head, and gathered his coat and things from the sawdusted floor. "Well, good night then, Lone Wolf. Oh, and sir?"
He looked back up at her, becoming entranced by the flush on her young cheeks. Why on earth could she be blushing? She lowered her eyes breifly before meeting his again. "I hope you win tomorrow."
Oh. He felt his own blush creeping over his cheeks, glad of the mask and Sirus' absence. He nodded.
"Thank you. Good night." Remus murmured as he passed, waving at her before shutting the flaps swiftly.
Well, who would have thought?
It was in considerably better spirits that Remus set off to find a tent of his own.
+++++++++++++
Come with me.
Note: Please remember to review, and more lovely chapters will follow as soon as I get time to write it.
Come with me, come back a few decades to where two small children, twin boys, are playing out in the street of a wizarding village.
Come with me, back to the beginning of Voldemort's campaign of terror, when wizards and witches still allowed their children to play on their streets come dark.
Come with me, back to a night when a foolish Lycan couldn't apparate away from the village in time and burst through his own front door a bloodthirsty beast.
++++++++
Romulus growled as he tore off his mask and threw it down upon the bed. What was Remus doing here!? Nothing short of a direct order from the Order would have made his twin come ... and the Order would only have returned if He Who Must Not Be Named had returned. Or maybe Dumbledore's mind was finally giving way to senility.
"Surely he wasn't serious." The Alpha muttered to himself, pouring a goblet of butterbeer. He only turned his head when the soft slap of canvas on canvas alerted him to another presence.
"He sounded perfectly serious to me." Spoke an elderly looking wizard. Still stocky dispite his age, his hair thick, long and white, he had all the vitality of a man half his age. His dark amber eyes, almost brown, flashed in the candle light. His name was Bran, and before Romulus, he'd been the Alpha.
The younger wearwolf smiled in greeting and offered him a butterbeer.
"You were just itching for a chance to put us up against each other, weren't you, You old grifter?" He accused once the pair of them were settled in their seats. Bran grinned a near-toothless smile at him.
"Of course, my lad. If anyone can beat your lazy ass, it'll be your brother."
"Remus is a teacher," Romulus scoffed "I've beaten him in every fight we've ever had."
"One must be a Master before one can teach, Pup."
Romulus gave the older man scandalized look, his head pulled back, eye wide and back stiff, every inch the offended leader. Bran sighed sadly, sipping at his drink with the air of a man who knows he's right and knows likewise that he won't be believed. Like Cassandra all those thousands of years ago, he thought. Not that Romulus would appreciate the mention of a witch, even one from the same pantheon as his victorious namesake.
"You belive him, didn't you?" Romulus demanded, his otherwise calm voice betraying itself in the ragged edge and the hard angles of his shoulders.
"Completely. Others did too. Even if you do beat him, this topic won't be so easily closed."
"I will beat him, and then we 'Will' all forget that - that - Nonsense! It's none of our business!" Romulus tore into a piece of bread that had been left there for his return, glaring at the tent flaps before spitting the half chewed bread back out, casting the bread itself out after it. This behavior earned him nothing but a raised eyebrow from the elder which was studiously ignored. "Why can they not give me a ham sandwich at least?! This is a meeting of Lycans, why do they not serve meat?!"
"It is not the bread's fault that your brother is right." Bran stated calmly, supping directly from his bottle. Romulus turned slowly on his heel to face the old man with the glinting yellow eyes, and the old man knew he'd stumbled across some important line, walked blindfolded into unmarked territory known only to this too rash youngster and his twin, and had stepped on something sleeping that reared and screamed it's presence.
"Out."
A cold hard order that raised Bran's hackles. But he obeyed, setting his butterbeer down primly, giving his young leader a cold shoulder when he began stuttering an explanation. At the tent's opening he turned back for a moment.
"If you need my help, you will have to ask for it from now on, Master Lupin."
With that the old wolf exited the tent for the early morning half light in which the meeting had finally finished. He prowled the space between his tent and the Alpha's, finding it satisfactory for his idea, raised his wrinkled old head and gave a sniff, before apparently following a trail.
Romulus watched this little display with confusion. What was Bran doing? Angry at himself for watching his mentor and also for letting the wolf control him as it had, he pushed the flaps back into place, intending to find his bed.
+++++++++++++
Come with me and see the beast smell tender human flesh, see the flash of sinew attack the oldest twin, see the anguish in his brother's eyes and the beast magically thrown off.
Come with me, see the beast attack the remaining twin, see an almost identical patch of blood appear, see the boys' father rush out and shoot the wolf dead, and the same beast slowly turn back into the corpse of a man the father recognizes.
Come with me, see the mediwitches rushing to replace lost blood, see them apply the herb wolfsbane before the bite wounds heal, see them fail.
+++++++++++++
Remus, while all this was happening at his brother's tent, could be found sitting at a wooden table, his mask slightly skewed. He was surrounded by younger werewolves who questioned him constantly on the revelation he'd been sent to deliver, and save for the silence when he chose to reply to one of these, they were unrelenting. As far as the professor was concerned, he had come to a belief that there were too much questioning and not nearly enough drinking going on for his liking.
"Please," He raised a hand from the table in a gesture to hush the small crowd. It worked for a moment, although the wolfish eyes behind those masks stated all too clearly that they had more questions, and the eager smell they were giving off told him that their awe of him wouldn't keep the tide back for long. "It's late - or rather, it's early. Unless you wish to continue drinking with me until the meeting starts anew, may I suggest you all go back to your Packs?"
Murmuring, debate on whether or not they could infact keep pace with him until noon, likely as not without any food in their bellies. He waited, straightening his mask as he did so. Feet began shifting, someone tried a short question which was properly ignored by the Lone Wolf. He picked up what was left of his drink and made a show of downing it and calling for another. The feet began to move away, farewells following them out the door. When the last of his little crowd left there was only him and the barmaid left in the empty tent.
"You still want that drink?" She asked, the grin ovbious on her unmasked face. He smiled in return, knowing that she couldn't see it but it didn't matter. He shook his head, and gathered his coat and things from the sawdusted floor. "Well, good night then, Lone Wolf. Oh, and sir?"
He looked back up at her, becoming entranced by the flush on her young cheeks. Why on earth could she be blushing? She lowered her eyes breifly before meeting his again. "I hope you win tomorrow."
Oh. He felt his own blush creeping over his cheeks, glad of the mask and Sirus' absence. He nodded.
"Thank you. Good night." Remus murmured as he passed, waving at her before shutting the flaps swiftly.
Well, who would have thought?
It was in considerably better spirits that Remus set off to find a tent of his own.
+++++++++++++
Come with me.