Disclaimer: I don't own the HP characters, themes, and places that are liable to make an appearance below, though a great number of them are OCs. Again, very useless to sue me, I'm no richer than the last time I wrote one of these things.

A/N: Thanks to the reviewers. Enjoy the story.

                                                         Chapter 6

                                           Corn Flakes and Oatmeal

The moon was blocked by thick clouds that snowed heavily as night fell. Bridget thought that maybe their guest would not be a wolf as long as the moon was not visible in the sky. Bridget obviously knew very little about werewolves. The Speaker had told her that he would most likely be very weak when he arrived here but that she should still exercise caution when near him.

The cave in which Bridget lived was very large that there were numerous other little rooms and holes branching out in it, like a very intricate spider's web. Bridget had fixed a heavy wooden door on one of the more sizable cavities. She levitated the unconscious wolf in there and locked the heavy lock. She did not worry too much about him escaping, for the cave was very deep in the mountain, and even if he did come back to consciousness and manage to break out of his room she very much doubted if he could find a way out. It had taken a fair few weeks before she herself had managed to navigate through the maze of hallways.

At any rate, it mattered very little, because he was out cold when she put him in there. She locked the heavy oak door. Standing on her toes she could see through the bars in the door, and him lying there on the cot. She wasn't easily frightened, but she had never seen a wolf that big before.

The Speaker had told her that the Lupin fellow might not be in the best shape when he arrived, as transporting someone that far by magic often was very hard on the subject. That was a bit of an understatement, she thought, for once you got past the sheer size of the beast, it really looked very scrawny and all-in-all unhealthy. It then occurred to her that might have been how he was before he had arrived.

Shrugging, she walked down the hall to another cavity a little ways down from the wolf's room where the Speaker sat by a huge roaring fire. His eyes were closed and he was muttering. Bridget supposed he would be happy when he saw that his attempt had been successful.

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

Lupin did not understand it, but when he transformed the following morning he screamed. He had not screamed during a transformation since he was a child. But as he felt his flesh and bones rearrange themselves, when he saw the strange stone room he was in, when he felt how his wolf-limbs ached more than normal from the previous night, he could not help but cry out in pain. For a split-second he chided himself for making a noise like that, but the pain he had felt last night coupled with his wolf-body mutating was enough to make him forget everything and scream in agony.

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

The Speaker stopped staring at the dying embers long enough to call to Bridget. Before he could say anything she spoke.

"He's awake. I heard. I'm not deaf you know."

Muttering under his breath about impudent girls, he sent her off with a wave of his hand.

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

He must have passed out again after he screamed, he wasn't sure. He woke to find a girl wiping his forehead with a wet cloth absentmindedly, staring longingly into space at nothing in particular. He felt as if little bricks were attached to his eyelids and his head pounded with a headache. Despite himself, he groaned.

"You passed out," the strange girl informed him when she saw signs of movement. She wet the cloth in the bucket beside the cot and continued wiping off his face, which, he realized, was drenched in sweat. "Do you always pass out the morning after a full moon?"

Something appeared to be wrong with the gears in his brain, for he answered the girl as if she had just inquired about the weather. "No."

"I thought not. The Speaker said you might when you transform because of the…" she looked up to the ceiling as if searching for the word to use, finally finding it. "…stress you underwent last night."

His eyes widened. Something had just clicked in his mind, which had just started to take in his surroundings. "What am I doing here?"

The girl raised a delicate eyebrow. "I thought you might have figured that out. Dalen said you saw him in the park with Madam Umbridge one morning. But oh well." She stood. "The Speaker said that I'm supposed to make sure you're not injured. Are you?"

"I can't move my legs."

"Side effect of the Apparation. When people fight it they can hurt themselves very badly, splinching or something worse. But you weren't able to fight it, you were too weak from the full moon. So here you are, in fairly decent health, but I'm afraid you may not regain use of your legs for a number of hours. Things could be worse, though, I suppose."

Lupin sincerely doubted that. "You still haven't answered my question."

"I suggest you start with a few others."

"Pardon?"

"I mean try another question first. That way the answer to your first query might make more sense."

Feeling more frustrated by the minute, he stared at her. She stared back. She was probably in her mid twenties and had the unhealthy clammy appearance of someone who didn't see sunlight very often. Not sure what else to do, he said, taking a deep breath, "All right, another question. Where am I?"

"Excellent question. Can't answer that, unfortunately."

Lupin raised his eyebrows.

"Well, I suppose I could, but just a small bit. You're currently on the very top of a tall mountain called the Hill."

"That's it?"

"Well, why not go all the way? You're still in Britain. Up north. By the Scottish border."

"Awfully vague, aren't you? Suppose being a prisoner and all I'm not supposed to know, eh?"

"Now you're catching on, there's a good lad. Now, ask again."

Feeling more bemused by the minute and also increasingly drowsy for some reason, he asked where on this "hill" he was.

"A cave. It originally was very small, but the wizards who used to live in it expanded it to it's size today. Bit like a labyrinth, really."

"A cave, hmm?" He looked around. That explanation seemed to coincide with the rough stone in the walls.

"One more question."

He took his eyes away from the cave's walls to stare at her. "And just who are you?"

"I'm Bridget. I used to live in the village down by the bottom of the Hill. Then one day I was kidnapped."

"Kidnapped? Does that happen a lot around here?"

"Well, I suppose you could say that, but I'm a bit different from you as a hostage here on the Hill."

"How's that?"

"I'm not dead," she said simply.

With that extraordinary pronouncement, she left his cell, taking the bucket with the cloth with her. He was so surprised he did not even stop to ponder the advantage of the door she had left open, though it wouldn't matter as his legs still felt like lead. He still hadn't moved when she came back with a tray of food.

"What are you talking about?" he demanded once she entered. "I'm not dead." Yet.

She smirked in a rather annoying fashion, setting the food down by his bed. "No, I suppose not. It's just that I was thinking that fairly soon you might wish it were true."

Still, Lupin stared at her, his eyes now wide, he felt now completely awake. He had, with great effort, pushed himself into a sitting position, dragging his limp legs along with him. There was a pause. He stared at her and she very slowly lowered herself to the floor, making a great fuss in straightening her skirt and then pouring a bit of cereal into a bowl.

"Are you hungry? I am. Do you mind corn flakes?" she asked, pouring another bowl and then adding milk to both of them.

"You're bluffing," he said, still staring. "Trying to scare me." She offered him one of the bowls, but he didn't take it.

She looked thoughtful. "I suppose I am." When he didn't take the cereal she set it back on the tray and started in on her own. "It worked very well, didn't it?"

He just stared still. The girl was eating cereal quite nonchalantly, expecting him to eat with her, as though they were old friends having dinner. Taking a deep breath, he closed his eyes, trying to clear his head. When he opened them, she was still eating. "What do you want with me?" he asked very quietly.

She looked up from her breakfast, apparently alarmed. "Me? What makes you think I have anything to do with this? It's the Speaker that does it all, he's the one you want to stare down." She paused, watching him in his unwavering examination of her. "Like that."

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

Alan Callard's senses were offended in numerous ways very early in the morning. He came downstairs having just transformed (which, of course, was never much of a picnic). In his advanced state of early-morning-ness he managed to pour hot coffee all over his arm. He took out his wand to clean it up, muttering a lot of what Aurelia would call "blue language." He sat at the table, still nursing his burnt arm.

He didn't like waking up alone, he had a thing where he just had to talk to someone in the morning. Hell, he had a thing where he needed to talk to someone at every hour of the day. He usually just got lucky for one night with most girls, they typically didn't stick around long after he told them. Some acted like it didn't matter to them, yet they rarely came back after a full moon. Nothing new to him, he just enjoyed the company.

When Aurelia Apparated with a pop into his kitchen he jumped and spilled his coffee again.

"Good lord, twice in a space of twenty minutes, that must be a new record," he said, but Aurelia didn't give that much thought.

Her younger brother (by five years exactly) was built a bit like a barrel in the chest with very short legs. His face was very much like hers, but while hers had a harsh, jutting look about it his was softer and a little better-humored. His dark red hair was distinctly tousled at the moment and he had an old pair of Wimbourne Wasps pajama bottoms on. Aurelia supposed she herself didn't look too groomed because she hadn't paid much attention as she dressed that morning.

"Never figured you for a morning person, Aurelia. What are you doing here?" he asked while cleaning up his mess again. His smirk faded off his face when she told him what had happened the previous night.

"Come on, we're going to the Ministry. We'll report it to them."

Aurelia shook her head. "Alan, I don't know if that's a good idea--,"

"Aurelia, you saw what happened, how can they explain that away?"

Very well, it turned out. The witch behind the desk told them that Remus Lupin had applied for a travel pass from the Werewolf Registry desk and was, according to their records, currently in Armenia. Brother and sister both stared, Aurelia finally saying, "Do you have any idea how many things are utterly wrong with that sentence.?"

The witch stared at them. "Well, according to this, he left yesterday. Your friend didn't tell you he was leaving, maybe?"

Aurelia shook her head. "No, you don't understand, he wasn't planning on leaving. I told you, it was kidnap."

The witch looked surprised, but, Alan noted hopefully, not doubtful. "That is odd, because according to this he had applied for the pass months ago. That way the Armenian Ministry of Magic would be ready for him when he came."

Aurelia looked at her shrewdly. "Let me say this again, for it doesn't seem to be getting through to you: our friend was forcibly taken from his bedroom while I was with him. Do you understand that?"

The witch was obviously taken aback at Aurelia's very hostile tone. Sensing this wouldn't get them anywhere, Alan shot his sister a look and pulled her back. "What she means to say is if you could perhaps give us some help, because we're quite certain that our friend isn't in Estonia or wherever."

The witch looked back at him, relieved at the friendly face. "Of, of course, I'll go speak to my superior, he can issue an alert and maybe we can find out what happened," and she stood up and went into a office that was behind a closed door in the back.

"We shouldn't have come here," Aurelia told him under her breath.

"Why not?"

"Now they'll know we're onto them."

"Onto them? Aurelia, you make it sound like we're being watched."

She eyed him warily, but before she could answer the deskwitch came back, looking vaguely troubled. "My boss isn't here at the moment, but when he is I'll owl you and you can come and talk to him, I…" she trailed off, and Alan thought for a second she looked like she was truly sorry she couldn't be of more help. Aurelia, however, said hurriedly that that would be fine.

"My name's Belinda Strauss, by the way, and I'll owl you once I get word from my boss, he's out somewhere, but his secretary doesn't seem to know where, the whole thing's rather dodgy, and--,"

"Yes, well thank you," said Aurelia, dragging Alan off in an opposite direction. "Come to my house. I've got my own owls to deliver, if you don't mind."

"Aurelia, what are you--,"

But she had already Disapparated.

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

"So are you hungry? Because I can't stay in here all day, I'm afraid."

Strangely enough, he was, quite so in fact, so he finally accepted. Bridget seemed quite content to eat her breakfast in silence, but that didn't sit well with Lupin. She stonewalled any question, however, that had to do with what he was doing here and who this Speaker was. He finally seized the only topic of conversation he didn't think she could possibly find an objection to.

"I always liked this stuff when I was a kid."

Bridget looked at him. "What stuff?"

"The corn flakes." I'm talking about breakfast cereal with a woman who's keeping me locked up in a cave for…some reason, he thought bemusedly. Bridget must have found it odd too, for she raised her eyebrows. He continued, nevertheless. "I used to demand it from my mother every morning, it was very funny, actually. Wouldn't eat anything else. Did you ever have them?"

"As a child?"

"Yes."

She shook her head slowly, still fazed from the odd subject matter. "No, we usually had oatmeal at the orphanage."

"An orphanage? You lived in an orphanage."

She nodded "I didn't like it much there. It was very cold."

"The orphanage?"

"No, the oatmeal."

"Oh."

They ate the rest of the meal in silence, until she finished.

"I'll be back later," she told him, set taking his half-finished bowl from him (his hands felt very stiff and clumsy for some reason). "Good-bye Mr. Lupin."

And with that, she left, this time closing the door after her.

NEXT CHAPTER: We meet the venerable Bayford Billings and Lupin ponders an escape.

YOU'VE READ, NOW PLEASE REVIEW!!