A year later Odin Varulf was a changed man. Since leaving Hogwarts he'd found taking the switch from man to wolf remarkably easy and life on four feet came naturally to him. He'd only fought the change for so long to preserve his career.

Seated upon his haunches on the carpeted floor of his sister's house, he looked over at the pale young man sleeping fitfully and restlessly on the spare bed. Last night had been a traumatic one. The moon had been full and high when he'd run across the loner. Odin had only just been in time to prevent his victims being slaughtered, and the boy being shot. It had been too close, the silver bullet had actually grazed his fur.

The youngster was a loner, that much was obvious, and in a fragile state. His face was thin and drawn, his eyes sunken and his cheeks hollow. He'd been easily overpowered when Odin took him down. Odin shook his shaggy head in consternation. For those who did not understand or were afraid found the transformation terribly painful and distressing. It shouldn't be this way, it was never meant to be like this. The boy needed the guidance that only he could provide.

His eyelids fluttered as he returned to the waking world. Odin decided to fetch Skadi, the sight of his furry face directly after a full moon horror story might be rather more than he could handle.

Jeremy's head swam as he fought rising waves of nausea. His whole body was racked with pain and he didn't want to wake up, it had been his dearest wish just to die in his sleep. Upon hearing approaching footsteps he became suddenly aware of where he was. He hadn't felt the soft comfort of a mattress in weeks, not since he'd run away. He was terrified because he had no idea where he was and who was approaching, yet an overwhelming feeling of calm belayed his fears.

A soft hand stroked his pulsing forehead and brushed the tangled, unkempt hair away from his face.

'Are you awake, my friend?' asked a beautiful, softly accented feminine voice.

Jeremy opened his bloodshot eyes and shielded them from the stinging rays of the midday sun. He found himself looking at a vision in jeans and a baggy grey jumper. A vision with pale skin, hair the colour of willow leaves in autumn and eyes the colour and depth of the deepest ocean.

'How did I get here?' his voice was croaky and sore.

'My brother found you last night. He thought you might be hurt so he brought you back here. I think he said you hit your head against a tree.'

Jeremy reached up and tenderly felt the lump on the back of his head before doubts entered his mind, 'But last night...'

How could he tell this beautiful young woman that he thought he was a werewolf? At the very least she'd think he was completely off his trolley.

She smiled and patted him gently on the hand, 'You do not need to explain to a Varulf. We know. We are. We have been for centuries.'

'Then you are...?'

The woman nodded, 'And so is my brother and my nephew. My name is Skadi, Skadi Varulf.'

'Jeremy, Jeremy Beech.' Jeremy winced as he tried to sit up. He was covered in cuts and bruises and moving hurt him. Skadi noticed and tried to help, supporting his aching back.

'Welcome to my home, Jeremy. Are you hungry?'

At the mere mention of food Jeremy's stomach violently contracted and his face drained of all colour, 'No.'

'But you must drink or you will not become well again. Drink this while I clean your wounds.'

Jeremy didn't see where Skadi produced the water that she handed him. He raised it to his lips and began to drink. He'd never tasted water like this, it was as sweet as honey and spread cooling waves through his body. He began to gulp it down greedily when Skadi's hand softly restrained him, 'You'll make yourself sick,' she kindly scolded him, 'Small sips are good.'

He took her advice and took the drink more slowly while Skadi bathed his cuts and bruises with a lotion. Drowsiness overcame him, along with an overwhelming feeling of security and a soft hand stroked his brow with the tenderness of a lover.

Skadi removed the cup from his hand just as it was about to fall from the relaxed limb. She straightened the quilt on his bed and left him to rest. She hoped the healing potion would do its work while he slept and hadn't been too diluted by the sleeping draught. Only time would tell. She closed the door and left Jeremy to his rest.

* * * * *

It was dark by the time he awoke. The comfort of the bed was so great that he didn't want to move. The absolute blackness apart from the light coming from under the door was strangely reassuring. He sat up and examined the room properly for the first time since his arrival. It was simply furnished with a hotchpotch of furniture from a darkly coloured chest of drawers with gold edging to a silver mirror mounted on top of a pale pine dresser. But however assorted the furniture was, there was no doubt about the feeling of homeliness that the room gave out. To Jeremy it seemed perfect.

He eased himself out of bed, and found himself in only the most minor of discomforts. All the sickening aches and pains of earlier had been magically eased away. It was the wonder of a good sleep, he told himself.

Pulling on a thick towelling dressing gown that had been thoughtfully left at the foot of his bed, Jeremy opened the door and stepped out into the hallway. He felt like he'd stepped back in time. Candelabras alight with flickering flames lit the hallway, casting all around them with a soft golden glow. His shadow seemed immense as he crept to the stairs, feeling that any louder sound would be sacrilege in this peaceful haven. The loud creaking of the stairs made him flinch, the sound almost appalled him in this place.

The walls were lined with paintings of forests and fjords, reminders of home. And wolves. Everywhere he looked there was always a wolf watching him. But these were not like the vicious monster that had attacked him, they stared at him with benevolence, even pity, and all of their expressions seemed to welcome him. One particularly beautiful female with fur like the first frost on a fallen oak leaf seemed to reach out to him with her eyes. He was so absorbed in the painting that he did not notice Skadi come up to meet him.

'She is very beautiful, isn't she?'

Jeremy started, but relaxed when he saw who it was, 'Yes, she seems almost alive.'

Skadi reached up and touched the canvas, 'She was my mother. Odin painted this not long before she died.'

The whole concept of having a wolf for a mother was absurd, but he was teetering on the edge of the sane world anyway, 'I'm sorry.'

'Don't be. She went peacefully, unlike many of our family. The price we pay for being what we are.' Sorrow sparked fleetingly in her eyes before she smiled at Jeremy's vocal stomach, 'You must be hungry. Come with me. I'll make you some supper. You can sit with my brother whilst I cook.'

'Someone as beautiful as you deserves to be cooked for.'

Skadi laughed, 'Odin would do it, but it is not so easy for him any more. But he provides for us and that is enough.'

The slender young woman led the skinny man into the sitting room. Leather sofas and chairs of various ages, colours and qualities sat in comfortable nooks in the large room with furs and sheepskins scattered over the polished wooden floor. Old books lined the walls along with several ornaments and keepsakes. A merry fire burned cheerfully in an old stone grate to keep out the chills of an autumn night.

'Jeremy, I'd like you to meet Odin, my brother, who saved you last night.'

Jeremy scanned the room, his eyes adjusting to the brightness of the fire, but saw no one who could be Skadi's brother, in fact he saw no one at all. It was all he could do to restrain a scream when he saw one of the fur rugs move and a wolf sat up. A wolf with eyes full of intelligence, like no wolf he'd ever seen, except for those in the paintings on the stairs.

Odin's voice bore the same accent as Skadi's, 'Welcome to our home, Jeremy. My name is Odin Varulf. Please sit down, I mean you no harm.'

Odin had noticed that Jeremy's face had gone as white as porcelain and he was shaking. His family had experienced much the same reaction countless times in the past when confronting a confused werewolf for the first time after switching.

Jeremy slumped on one of the yielding leather armchairs, his legs having collapsed in fear rather than in compliance with Odin's request. The wolf took a seat on the most worn and claw marked seat that was liberally scattered with hairs of many shades. It had been his favourite chair as a man and continued to be so as a wolf.

'You are welcome in this house for as long as you wish to stay and you are free to leave when you choose. I want to help you understand what you are if you want to accept it. We will force nothing upon you and all we ask in return is that you do not tell anyone what we are.'

It seemed fair enough to Jeremy, but no one was that nice. There had to be a catch in it somewhere, but for now he would make the most of their hospitality. His deep thought was broken by a bark from the wolf and some rapidly spoken words in a language he did not understand. He turned in his seat and saw a twelve-year-old boy peering around the doorframe. Jeremy could not tear his eyes away from the boy's. Vivid yellow in colour, bordered in deeper rust, there was something unnatural and unworldly about them, but they spoke volumes in humour and love.

Odin eventually nodded and the boy entered the room fully. He was tall and lean, but carried about him an aura of power and wisdom even at his young age. He held out a fair hand and Jeremy accepted it.

'My name's Frey. Aunt Skadi told me that we had a guest and I wanted to meet you. What's your name?'

'Jeremy, Jeremy Beech.'

'Will you be staying here long?'

'I don't know yet.'

'I hope you do. It's nice talking to different people.'

'Why, don't you see many others?'

'No. Not many people come here.'

'But what about school?'

'I don't go to school; they wouldn't let me. Father teaches me instead.'

'That's a shame. School's great fun, but I'm sure your father's a very good teacher.'

'Oh yes. He used to be a proper teacher, but came home to teach me instead.'

It was at this moment that Skadi re-entered the room with a tray holding a steaming bowl of soup and thick chunks of buttered bread, 'Frey, you should be in bed. Say goodnight and go upstairs.'

'But I'm not tired.'

'Now.'

With a rather sullen expression Frey disappeared upstairs and Jeremy tucked into his soup.

'He's a nice boy.'

Odin's bright blue eyes lit up with fatherly pride, 'Yes, he is.'

'Why doesn't he go to school?'

'The school wouldn't accept him once they found out what he was.'

'What do you mean?'

'Frey, too, is a werewolf, Jeremy. It is easier for him than it is for you because he was born the way he was, like Skadi and I. But I can help you and I can make it easier. All I need is your cooperation.'

'But there's no cure.'

'Nor likely to be. Many have tried but we have found that understanding is the better way to come to terms with your inner wolf. As for myself, I have come to terms too much and look what happens!'

Odin laughed at himself and Jeremy found himself laughing too. For the first time he felt like he could talk about such things without fearing reprisal. Soon Odin didn't look so strange to him.

Over the following weeks and months Jeremy found out about other worlds he had no idea existed. Magic was real if you had it in your blood and the Varulf's seemed to have so much magic and wolf that it left little room for humanity.

The first transformation had been an experience he would never forget. He felt the pain of the onset when Skadi took his hand and calmed him as he began to feel the familiar surges of panic rising up. She seemed to transform almost in the blink of an eye, a fluid, liquid movement that made tides of new emotions arise and cancel out the fear and anger of before. He almost didn't realise it when he, too, had changed.

He felt free as he bounded shoulder to shoulder with Odin and Skadi, Frey gambolling ahead on over-long juvenile legs. The young werewolf was like a miniature reflection of the full moon, being purest white in colour.

Over the moons the barriers between man and wolf broke down until both thought with the same mind and loved with the same heart. And what love he had found in Skadi. Their hearts and voices sang together, an eternal connection forged with the barest of efforts.

Odin saw this love begin to blossom and often left them alone to discover the pleasures of each other. Frey was beginning to find his own feet in the world and often wanted to explore on his own, leaving Odin to experience the joys of being a free wolf, but having the comfort of family to return to.

It was upon such an evening that Odin Varulf made the biggest mistake of his life, and one for which he would never forgive himself.

* * * * *

Saiph rested his head against the tree, his eyes closed. This was a hard subject for him to talk about, for he knew how much pain it would cause Remus. He slightly regretted the telling of this tale now, maybe it would have been better for all if he still believed he'd been the victim of some rogue attack. But he'd been there, he'd seen the whole thing and it was a slur on his father's memory to let him continue believing it.

Remus hadn't been the only one who'd suffered for that one night.

Elhaz squeezed his paw comfortingly. She knew the whole sorry mess. She'd heard Colvarn's dying confession and his attempts to rectify the situation he'd caused in a moment of forgetting. But he'd learned a precious secret that one night, one that he'd passed down to all his pack, and one which Remus would learn once he'd accepted the truth of his bite.

Remus himself sat staring at both wolves. He couldn't really remember his bite, he'd been too young. A moment of terror and pain, nothing more. He hadn't known Colvarn either and so did not understand their reverence for the departed alpha.

'I was that mistake, wasn't I?' he asked.

Saiph slowly nodded, 'Yes, and he never forgave himself for what he did to you. But let me tell you the whole tale and let you judge him for yourself...'