Part Three
The papers, as usual, spun the tale of the Wolf's Haven massacre. They told how dozens of wolves joined the Dark Lord's ranks. Articles in the paper advised people to take further precautions against wolves. They described methods in these articles on how to evade, catch, reveal, and even how to kill wolves. I stopped reading those kinds of articles when one particularly graphic one made me sick. And for the longest time, I had this horrible reaction, as though I were constantly in contact with silver. It took a while to figure out that one incredibly dense 1st Year had read an article where one had to use silver-based paint on one's door to keep wolves out. The git had painted the Fat Lady's picture frame without telling anyone.
But none of these articles told of the dozens who would not join, or who joined only to protect their mates and pups. None told of the only wizard wolf in Europe who lost his family because he would not join.
Stories arose of werewolves attacking humans. Vicious creatures striking out at whatever innocent human came close enough. Werewolves have been a danger to humans since we first came into existence, so that was nothing new. What made the headlines was that these violent wolves were attacking in their human forms in broad daylight, some going so far as to even bite humans as humans themselves, making pups out of spite. So dangerous were these wolves that the majority of them were executed upon arrest. With the current paranoia and general danger we posed, the Ministry couldn't afford to take chances.
I could only imagine what was going through the minds of those poor wolves as they died. Life had been unfair to them for as long as most of them could remember and yet none of their hard work made any difference. Hate crimes against wolves were on the rise like never before and it was only my luck that I was safe in school rather than out in the real world.
But these werewolves must have been under attack from their neighbors endlessly for weeks. There is only so much abuse a wolf can take before it snaps. I nearly snapped completely with the betrayal of Sirius still so fresh in my mind. They must have been so suspicious of humans at that point that they were desperate enough to lash out at their aggressors. If the Ministry wasn't careful, they could find themselves with a revolution on their hands as well as a war against the Dark Lord.
Sirius must have thought of the same things, for he constantly went out of his way to show his trust and faith in me. He knew how these stories were affecting me. And he knew as well as I did how close I was to snapping the day I attacked him. And he knew that if the Ministry caught any hint, a mere rumor of me being out of sorts, they would have me in a silver muzzle before nightfall. Going into super-protective mode, he and the rest of my pack shielded me what little they could from our rival packs. The less confrontation I had at school the better.
More and more owls arrived every day for me, most from wolves who have heard of me or who were part of the Wolf's Haven pack. They too had heard the stories of werewolves fighting back against their attackers. However, unlike me they did not feel pity.
They felt hatred.
How could those damn humans continue to abuse us even as we were unwilling to join the Dark Lord? The wolves executed were given no trial, no opportunity to defend themselves. Not even a wand with which to stand a chance.
It was time to fight back.
At first I didn't know how to respond to these desperate wolves. They shouted words of kinship, of avenging innocents, of righting terrible wrongs. They hailed me as their alpha if I would only lead them. I, who was so young and inexperienced. It was no small thing to swear fealty to another. Had I wished it, I would have an army, a pack of my own.
It wasn't long before I came down from my brief euphoria. What was I thinking? I couldn't lead my own pack! I was still just a pup! Even if I somehow managed to raise, train, and organize this army there was no way we would get away with it. We would be captured or executed before we made it within a hundred yards of the Ministry. And this was all assuming we weren't discovered beforehand and that I had the knowledge to do such things.
Besides, I couldn't do that to Dumbledore and the Marauders. I owed these humans so much. They were my family now, as dear to me as any blood relation. I could not and would not betray them for a doomed rebellion. A rebellion that while I sympathized with it, I could not condone it. And could never take part in.
So I mailed each and every wolf back, telling them quite plainly to forget any and all notions of revolt. I advised them to keep low profiles, to do everything they could to protect themselves, but not to incite any more violence. I could not be the messiah they wanted me to be. Being able to use a wand did not grant me ultimate power.
They couldn't understand that and their reaction was less than enthusiastic.
More mail than ever pored in. Now I was a traitor to my people. A foolish pup who was happy to be the Ministry's pet on a leash. They classed me in the same ilk as those who murdered innocent yet desperate werewolves. As far as they were concerned, I had no people. This knowledge hurt me more than I can describe. Humans would never accept me, and now the wolves denied me safe haven. The protection my cowardly stray sire lived under was no longer mine to call upon.
I was glad to be going home with the Pettigrews that summer. I was safe with them as only a select few knew my summer residence. Safe from the Dark Lord. Safe from wizards who might hunt me as they hunted other wolves before me. Safe from my sire still out for his pup. Safe from my people who were out for my blood.
While I was in my safe little world, hidden away from reality, things were getting worse. Our government assured us that we were winning steadily but surely. That the war would soon be over.
Well, they were right about it being over soon.
Whatever stability the Ministry had in its ability to prosecute anyone remotely suspicious was dissolving. Fear ruled us now. But we hadn't lost yet. We still had some hope. Because hope was just about all we were sure of.
Summer consisted of Peter and I studying defense book after defense book. His parents were afraid of attack any moment and wanted to be ready. They would never turn me away, but I knew they saw me as an extra risk. They knew why my parents were killed and how other wolves offered me no aid. But there was nothing to be done about it now. If the Pettigrews were next, they were next. And we could only hope to be spared through either luck or skill.
Returning to school for our final year was as though entering an oasis surrounded by desert. It was sweet haven. Hogwarts seemed invulnerable now more than ever. The Dark Lord would not, could not attack it let alone infiltrate it. We were safe there, and I wasn't the only one who thought so. Almost no one went home for Christmas or Easter. No one wanted to leave for the unknown. For an escalating war exploding around us on all sides.
At first the hate letters by desperate wolves returned once school started. But by Halloween they gradually stopped coming altogether. Whether because the writers were dead from Death Eaters or the Ministry or they just gave up on my allegiance I'll never know. And I didn't want to know.
I was a selfish pup, I know. I had a life of leisure when compared to the other wolves, safe from harm, well fed, and unknown to humans after lupine blood. I did not struggle from day to day just to survive. I was allowed a wand, perhaps the only thing that could save my life in an attack and even that was denied to every other wolf. I was even under the protection of the most powerful human in the world.
And yet, I did nothing for those not so lucky. I would not use my good fortune to benefit the frightened wolves. I was a selfish pup. But I was a selfish pup who wanted to live.
My pack knew of the guilt haunting me. And they told me in no uncertain terms that I was doing the right thing despite how it tore at me. That I was right to want to live. To not want any part in the problems of other wolves. My only duty was to live.
My human side hated them for their apathy to the plight of werewolves. They were human, how could they ever lecture to me about a werewolf's duty? How could they ever understand the horror faced by pups their own age? Pups that had no pack, no home, no food, no wand with which to protect themselves?
But my wolf half, the one to whom I listened more often in these matters, knew their words to be truth and loved them for it. They understood perfectly, it told me. For in the end, every creature, humans included, were instinct-based. And with the war as it was, the humans were listening more and more to survival instincts long buried by society. Instincts very closely followed by wolves all the time.
A wolf's first duty was to itself. A pack did not sacrifice itself for a wolf too weak to defend itself. Packs themselves were created for the purpose of self-protection. My first duty was to live. If the others were too weak to survive, it was not my fault or problem. Why begrudge my good fortune when it was keeping me alive? A werewolf gave its life for mate, for pups, for its pack if it would keep the pack alive. A werewolf died only for the protection of its people. My involvement and inevitable death would protect no one. A werewolf did not die for a lost war.
There was a strange sense of comfort that came with the distancing between myself and the other wolves. A sense of freedom. I could almost hide from the harsh real world in my wolf half. As human as I tried to be since meeting the Marauders, I could not remain so now. For as humans listened to their instinct more and more with the increasing danger, so did I revert to my feral mindset. Not as much as before I attended school, but there was no doubt in my packmates' minds that they played with the wolf when they played with me.
And to my constant wonderment, not a word was said against it. They accepted and loved the wolf just as they accepted and loved the human. The wolf would not let me die for my own people. But it demanded that I die for my pack should the need arise.
To this day I don't believe Peter, James, or Sirius ever knew just how protective of them the human Remus and the nameless wolf was of them for no other reason than not flinching at my touch.
Tragedy has a funny way of affecting humans. The more it happens, the more they want to pretend it doesn't exist. My pack of humans was no different.
In between trying to make sure we all left this last year at the top of our class, the Marauders tried their hardest to leave a mark on the school that would prove to be legendary. We wanted our stories to be told when our children attended school. We wanted future mischief makers to speak our names in reverent whispers as they tried to follow our example. And we wanted to be the best now and forever.
It was our own way of achieving immortality. A reassurance in itself that no matter what happened to us in the world beyond school, when we could no longer count on our Headmaster's protection, we would live on in our mark on the school. It kept us busy and made us feel better about the harsh lives destiny had dealt us. The professors, therefore, did not bother us too much about it unless we felt particularly mischievous that day.
But all good things, as they must, come to an end. We have done all we set out to do. Our immortal fame as Master Mischief Makers all but announced with the 'Quidditch Cup Incident,' graduating in first, third, fourth, and tenth in our class… we should be happy to be leaving school so successful. But as the day swiftly approaches, all I feel is uneasy apprehension. Not the giddy nervousness I should feel instead. I know I'm not alone.
We all know what await us once we leave through these doors for the last time. Over 90 of us have been touched by it already in some way. I am not the only orphan graduating. Peter isn't the only one to have lost a parent. And six empty seats among ours are six seats too many.
It is a harsh, unforgiving world out there. And we are being thrown head first into it. Our professors offer us words of hope and joy as they bid us farewell. But I can smell the sadness in their scents if not see it in their eyes. They all, you all, know exactly what kind of world nearly 40 young adults are being thrown into. Dumbledore once told me that we are all like his children, and now he can no longer protect us. Only hope that during the seven years under his tutelage we have learned to take care of ourselves.
Since last winter I have been on the search for a decent job so I have something to look forward to upon graduation. Yet it seems that Death Eaters are the least of my worries. I am having enough trouble finding a way to survive without any Dark Forces making it harder.
It seemed that I was right to be skeptical of a hopeful McGonagall. A werewolf simply cannot find work. Especially now that our loyalties are under severe doubt. Every job application I filled out asked the same damned question. And every time I was forced to give the same damned answer.
I am fully qualified to perform any number of jobs from lower level Ministry work to teaching.
And I am swiftly counting myself lucky that no one else wants to lay bricks or clean rubbish.
It is very hard now for me, no longer a little pup, to restrain my old hatred of humanity. Sometimes I want very much to show the Ministry what I showed Sirius years ago. I want to show them exactly what they fear getting loose. The deepest part of me wants the same revenge the other wolves want. I want to be the beast that children are warned about at night. Forsaking my kind saved hundreds of human lives. And I am repaid by begging to lay their bricks and pick up their trash.
If this darkness consumes me, I have little doubt that I will snap. And if I snap, I have little doubt I will die in short order. It is this thought that restrains me.
Fortunately, all is not so terrible that I have to resort to silent fury to pass my days. My pack is as strong as ever and I know that graduating will not affect us. We even have an honorary fifth member. Since at least Third Year, James has been smitten with fellow Gryffindor Lily Evans. Kind, beautiful, and clever enough to evade most of our pranks, Lily is more than a match for my alpha. And from the way things are now, it seems she may remain our alpha female.
She knows what I am and doesn't care. That in and of itself is enough to earn my favor. The wolf has placed her under its protection as well, and any pups she and James might have.
But it's too early for any of us to be thinking about pups. We still have time. Even with the world falling down around us, and full-blown war all but assured, we are a pack. Many have often questioned my choice of friends. I have been told that they will only lead me down a path of rule-breaking, and someday, real trouble.
They are delinquents, the lot of them. We often like to make bets on who will be sent to Azkaban first. Sirius is convinced that the Dementors wouldn't know what to do with us and send us back. But so long as we are a pack, I don't have to worry about things like that. Each of us comes with our own share of pain and strength, and it is these things that keep us together.
Perhaps this thesis has been more a reflection of Remus Lupin than Canus Superior. However, as I wrote this, I found that I am unable to separate the two. I am a werewolf and no matter how much I wear the sheep's clothing I know better and those who know me know better. I am Canus Superior and someday the whole world will know it. I doubt that I will turn a wand upon the Ministry, for I am not a warrior and couldn't ever imagine myself being such. But Merlin protect the soul who threatens my pack.
Not long ago, in the United States, there was a rule with the Muggle government. Those of another race were to be considered equal, but kept separate. How silly is it, that even humans must categorize and hurt each other. If wolves tried to do that, with every member of differing color, how could it ever be justified? With the white furred separate from the black and the brown and the tawny… even us lower class degenerates have better common sense. Of course, those kept separate from the rest of society were far from treated as equals.
I find that this situation, still being fought over there today, has a sharp likeness to the werewolf condition. We are not labeled as inferiors, just treated as such. And Merlin forbid a wolf and a human are anything but enemies. Separate but equal.
I have news for the Ministry. We are not separate and equal. We are not separate and inferior. The werewolf is here to stay and unless our government realizes that and gives us the rights we deserve, it will find itself with a larger problem than a few desperate strays lashing out. They treat me and my kind as they do because they are afraid. But why should they be afraid of a silly wolf pup when I am a mongrel half-breed?
I'll tell you why. It's because they realized what we knew all along. We are not separate and equal. We are separate and superior. Canus Superior. And someday we will show mankind what I showed a foolhardy prankster not 2 years ago. But the punches will not be pulled then because of love for a packmate. The Ministry has made it painfully clear that they want no pack with us. So be it. We will not be content for long if we are forced to beg for cleaning up trash. There are wolves with much less patience than I, and even less love for humanity. One can only stand servitude for so long after all.
Thus I conclude my 7th Year thesis. I hope, Professor, that you have enjoyed this paper as I have enjoyed your class this year. This werewolf pup will miss Hogwarts and everything it has to offer. As we leave for darker times, I will always look back on these past 7 years and smile, knowing that there is one place where it doesn't matter what race you are or even what species. I will remember that such a place will remain a safe haven for anyone with an open mind and an eagerness to learn. Maybe that is what the Dark Lord fears about this school rather than the power of our teachers. He deals in lies and doubts and fears, and cannot infiltrate a place that does not falter in its doctrine.
Thank you again and I hope that you continue to teach future generations with the dedication and expertise you have used to teach us.
Remus John Lupin
Gryffindor
Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry
Class of 1978
End Part Three
A/N: I am so sorry for totally ignoring this for months! I have no real excuse other than I had writer's block of the worst kind and set it aside before I went nuts. The last chapter, which will be quick and easy btw, will show the Ministry's response to Remus' plea and report. Does anyone have any guesses on how it will play out?