CHAPTER TWENTY

WILL TAKE TO BITING ITSELF…

I will not become a wolf. I will not become a wolf. Mind over matter I will not become a wolf. I have control over my own body, I will not become a wolf. Remus is only being careful, I will not become a wolf. The pain is all in my head. The pain is all in my head and I will not become a wolf.

It was a hell of a psychological problem, Sean thought. To, by sheer power of the brain, cause convulsive shivers, a cold sweat, massive racks of spine-compacting, writhing, teeth gritting pain… an amazing feat.

And of course Remus was just fine. Sean was beginning to doubt if the man was even human. Remus had given him two or three more potions and now was sitting on the other side of the hayloft. It looked like he was meditating, for Christ's sake! He had not one gleam of moisture on his forehead, while Sean was drenched and trying not to scream.

"How do you do it, Remus?" He called.

Remus didn't answer. He was too busy finding his fucking Zen.

Sean laid back and looked out at the fading sky. Almost time. Almost time- it would be horrible and then it would be over. For a whole month. Over. And still… maybe it wouldn't happen at all. Maybe the man in the white cloak hadn't been lying.

If only Remus had let me go back. I don't give a shit if I'd have to be evil, just to never feel like this again…

"Are you hungry?"

"Not at all," Sean answered before he realized the voice did not belong to Remus. Feeling weak, he merely turned his head to see a red-headed boy about his age. He looked like a smaller, younger, and not-as-built Charlie. "Where the hell did you come from?"

"The window," the boy said, "Have a bite of this cookie."

"You'd better get out of here. We'll be turning into werewolves soon, me and that man over there… we'll tear you apart."

"Eat the cookie. It'll make you all better. Better so you can go home."

"I can't go home, my family's gone."

"I know where they are," said the boy with a smile.

Sean sat, his back screaming. "You know where my family is?"

"Tyler's all better. He wants to teach you to play Quidditch. You and John."

Sean was feeling less pain and more hay, sticking him in all the wrong places now. "Who the hell are you?"

"My name is George," said the boy, "It's a peanut butter cookie. My mother made them. I haven't gotten to meet her yet, but Dad says very soon."

"Who is your dad?"

"You look sleepy. Did you know that Remus has poisoned you? If you don't eat the cookie you'll go to sleep and never wake up."

Sean rose painfully on his feet and hands, crab-walking backward, away from the boy. "I'm not eating any cookie. Who sent you here?"

"My dad sent me." George leaned in toward Sean, whispering worriedly, "There's a voice in my head. It sounds like me. It tells me to go home, go home."

Sean leapt to his feet. "Remus!"

"But I don't know where that is," the boy continued. "Do you know where home is?"

"You'll be fine, boy," Remus called.

"Remus there's a boy over here and he'd talking madness!"

"Hallucinations are common without Wolfsbane, Sean. Try to relax."

Sean studied the boy darkly. "You're not real, he says."

"Your mum misses you. Caroline has been crying for you a lot, lately. Fred- not my twin Fred, but your younger brother Fred- he told her that you're never coming back. He's a 'mean little fuck,' my Dad told me, and Dad has much hope for him. I don't know what he means by that. My Dad is a strange man-"

"SHUT UP!" Sean bellowed, "You are not real!"

"I am too real," George said, "And you're going to sleep forever soon if you don't eat this. It's good. Dad says you won't turn into a monster."

The pain was returning. Sean looked passed the boy's non-real head and saw that the sun was nearly gone. Minutes now. "Leave me alone."

"I can't. You have to eat it."

"I'll prove that you're not real," resolved Sean, feeling his face flush, "I'm going to throw you off this hayloft, and then I'll know."

"I'll die if you do that. My dad would be awfully mad. He's scary when he gets mad. I saw him in the big room with the ugly ceiling. It was scary. It was when I got this." The boy pulled up the sleeve of his robe and showed Sean a black mark, the black mark, fresh, moist and dark.

"REMUS!" Sean bellowed, "MY HALLUCINATION IS A DEATH EATER!"

"Lord Sean," Remus called from the other side. He sat up and dusted himself off, "I'll be right over to give you another- MERLIN'S TEMPLE! Sean… move away from him."

"Sir," the boy said to Remus, "You shouldn't poison people. My father told me about how Fred's brother poisoned George. People die when you poison them, and it makes other people get very sad and go crazy."

Remus was coming closer as Sean was inching farther away. "Who are you? How did you know where to find us?"

"He knows about my family, too!"

"I know because my father told me."

"What else does he tell you?" asked Remus.

The boy shook his head. "My father told me not to tell you anything. Now I know the voice in my head is evil, because it tells me the opposite of everything my father tells me. Sean, please eat this cookie. You're going to become a monster in just a couple of minutes."

"What voice?" Remus asked frantically. "Tell me, whose voice? What does the evil voice say?"

"It says that I should tell you everything. It says that I should go back home, to Fred's house, but I know Fred doesn't want me there. It says 'let me in. Let me in and everything will be alright.'"

Remus was white as coffin-lining. "It's impossible-"

"You still think I'm hallucinating?" said Sean.

"George," Remus said, "You should listen to the voice inside yourself. You should go home to Fred. Fred loves you."

The boy's face crumpled. "I don't know what that means!"

"It means he likes you. He misses you."

"No. I thought he missed me before… that's why I found him… I only made him sad!" Suddenly the boy was twitching, pushing at his temples. Obviously the voice in his head was loud and aggressive. "Shut up! You're a liar! Father, help me! He won't eat!"

Remus pounced on George, knocking him to the ground. There was no struggle. Remus whispered in the boy's ear, and the boy moaned, "No… No!"

Someone Sean recognized suddenly appeared over Remus and George, and Remus was flying across the barn like a discarded rag doll, head over feet, head over feet.

He hit a beam and fell unconscious onto the soft floor of hay below.

The familiar man turned to Sean. "Come with me."

"Come with you?" Sean said, "I think not."

"I want to take you home."

"I- I can't go home… the moon-"

"-Do you not recognize me, Sean?"

Sean looked closely. Dark hair, nice teeth…

"Mr. Tromedlov?"

The man nodded. "Come with me. I have the cure."

Sean narrowed his eyes. "For what price?"

"Just the Mark. Just a little Mark. That's all."

"And I'll never be a werewolf again?"

"Never."

Sean might have said no. He might have said no if the pain had not started again, worse than ever, like no other pain he had even known. His body was an exposed nerve; raw, struck, burning. Pain so surreal the first response is to get away from it, because it is not, can not, be a part of you. He squirmed, trying to escape, but he was surrounded and there was nowhere to go.

"Okay," he choked.

"Okay?"

"Yes."

Mr. Tromedlov smiled. "Does it hurt, Sean?"

"Yes… yes."

"Are you ready?"

"Y-yes. Hurry. Please."

He was lifted from the ground and thrown over the man's shoulder, a very uncomfortable position indeed.

"Father," he heard George say.

"You stay here with Remus, my son."

Sean heard George cry out as Mr. Tromedlov pushed him over the edge of the hayloft.

Indeed.