Chapter Five: Casting Blame
The days following the attack passed by in a hazy blur for Remus. By the time the Muggle fire brigade had arrived and put out the fire, the cottage was all but destroyed. The Lupins spent a sleepless night in a bed and breakfast in a neighbouring village, returning anxiously the next day to assess the damage.
The beautiful home that Remus had grown up in and known all his short life was now nothing but a blackened ruin
Standing a safe distance away with his parents on the path, Remus surveyed the smoking ruin with bleak dismay. Only a few walls were still standing, with skeletal beams hanging in the air, warped and twisted with nothing to support. Most of the roof had caved in leaving a dishevelled blanket of tiles and charred beams over the ground. His parents carefully picked their way among the rumble, using their wands to retrieve what few items had survived the purge of flames. All their clothes were gone, along with Julian's broomstick and much of the furniture. A number of cooking pots were deemed repairable and salvaged, along with some books that had been buried under part of the stonework which had fallen in, protecting them from the worst of the fire and smoke.
Cautiously, Remus walked around to what remained of his bedroom. Looking up at the shattered windowpane, framed by blackened stone, Remus spotted the charred coconut, still clinging helplessly to the window frame. There were no singing birds in the sky that morning, just an eerie silence and an air of bitterness and hate. Remus shivered in the warn sunshine, casting anxious looks at the neighbouring cottages. A curtain twitched at Mrs. Ramset's across the road. Not one of the villagers had come out to look at what had happened, nor to see whether the Lupins were all right. A few nosy Muggles had stopped to stare on their way past, but no hand of assistance was extended. Past the unsettling watchfulness of the unseen and unkindly eyes, the incident was barely acknowledged.
This is all my fault, thought Remus miserably, gazing about him. If it weren't for me, this never would have happened.
His parents blamed him; he knew they did. The villagers had turned against them all because he was a monster, something to be shunned and feared. If he'd never have gone into the forest, he'd still be normal and they'd still have a home …
'Remus! Come away from there, it's not safe!'
His mother was beckoning to him, standing precariously on a broken slab of stone. A moment later, Remus recognised it as the kitchen fireplace. Most of the contents were beyond recognition, but what Remus could identify only served to strike him harder as to what he'd done. Tears threatened to well up again but he forced the feeling down.
Stop it, you've done nothing but cry like a baby for days; do something to help!
Skirting round the base of the walls, Remus carefully picked his way over the rubble. A glint of light suddenly caught his eye, like metal flashing in the sun. Turning, Remus squinted into the dark crevices at his feet. Taking a step back and tilting his head, another flare of light shone from within the hole. Hesitantly, Remus glanced over to his parents. Neither of them were looking his way; both were preoccupied with extracting a large half-buried cauldron from under the debris of the pantry. Lying flat on his stomach, Remus reached into the crevice, feeling carefully.
'It's not too bad,' said Julian, levitating another chuck of brickwork out of the cauldron. 'I can straighten out most of the dents with a few charms.'
Diane nodded, setting the battered cauldron down on a grassy patch and dusting her clothes off. The pile of salvaged items was meagre indeed. So little had survived the flames undamaged.
But we're all still here, Diane reminded herself. That's the most important thing.
Clothes could be patched up, dents could be straightened out and most other items were repairable to some degree. But that small consolation did little to dispel the feeling of utter desolation and helplessness. Lip quivering, Diane couldn't bring herself to look over what had once been her beautiful home since she'd married Julian. She'd given birth to Remus there too, when he'd arrived earlier than expected and much too fast for the Lupins to get to the hospital in time. Now her small haven of happiness was forever tarnished in her mind as a place of assault and misery.
'Mum?'
Diane started. She hadn't heard Remus come up beside her. Hastily, she wiped her eyes before turning to smile at him.
'Yes, sweetheart?'
Remus didn't say anything. He hadn't missed the stifled sobs and the swollen redness of her eyes. Silently, he held out his clenched hand.
'What's this?'
Diane held out her hand and Remus dropped something small into her palm. Looking at it, Diane's heart gave a painful stab.
It was her silver locket: blackened slightly on one side from the ash but otherwise unharmed. The bag in which the locket had been sealed had been ruined by the fire, and had scattered its contents to the floor when the cottage fell apart.
Diane turned it over in her shaking hands and carefully unlocked it to gaze with watery eyes at the photographs inside. Smiling with relief, Diane held the precious locket to her and beamed at her son.
'Oh, Remus, thank you, where on earth did you find it? I -' She stopped suddenly. A look of wary suspicion clouded her features. 'Remus …' she said slowly. 'Show me your hands.'
Remus blinked, and dropped his gaze, holding his hands behind his back.
'Remus, show me your hands,' Diane said again, more firmly.
Slowly, Remus did as she asked, but kept his eyes on the floor. He didn't see his mother's face growing deathly pale.
'What's going on?'
Julian had approached, carrying a box of damaged books and parchment, looking between his wife and son with concern. Then he saw Remus' hands.
Remus winced in pain as his father dropped the box unceremoniously onto the ground and took hold of his hands, feeling carefully. His mother took one look at the silver locket in her hand, and then shoved it deep into her pocket. His palms were burnt red and sore from trying to handle the small locket. When he'd reached into the hole and brushed his fingers against the chain, it had been similar sensation to touching stinging nettles at first, painful and irritating. But as Remus had taken hold of the locket in his hand, it was as though it were on fire, yet he'd gritted his teeth and refused to cry out. He knew how much his mother loved it. Returning it was a small start to try and make things right.
Julian cast a cooling spell over the burns to help ease the stinging, but there was little else that could be done for a silver burn.
'What did we tell you about touching silver?' snapped Julian, when he was done. He stood up and jabbed his wand at the box, sending it over to the rest of the rescued items. It landed heavily next to them. 'You know not to touch it!'
Remus took a step back, fighting back tears.
'I – I just w-wanted to help,' he stammered.
'Julian, don't be mad at him,' said Diane sadly. Her husband shook his head and strode over to the pile. Remus sniffed and wiped his nose on his sleeve.
'It's all right,' whispered Diane, putting an arm round his shoulders and drawing him into a hug.
Remus swallowed hard.
'Why's Dad mad at me?'
'He isn't … he's just upset by what's happened.'
Remus knew she was lying to him. Of course, his father was mad at him: this was all his fault.
'I'm so glad you found my locket,' his mother whispered in his ear. 'Just try to remember not to touch anything silver again … you don't want to be burned again, do you?'
Remus shook his head. His palms were still stinging painfully, but he made no comment as he helped his mother and father sort through their things. By placing Enlargement Charms on the interiors of several bags, most of what they'd salvaged fitted inside relatively easily, whilst only weighing a quarter of what it should have done.
It had taken most of the day to complete their task. When the last bag was filled and Julian had slung it over his shoulder, the Lupins turned to survey the ruined cottage for the last time.
The fire had been a warning. The Lupins considered themselves lucky to have made it out alive, but it was foolish to believe that that was the end of it. They could not stay in the village, not without fearing another attack. Terrified at the thought, Diane and Julian had only one option. So with only the clothes on their backs and the bags of fire-damaged pots and pans, the Lupins left the ominously silent village behind them.
-o-
The county of Yorkshire was a beautiful place. Full of rolling hills, open fields and pastures, it had a wonderfully unspoiled air, untouched by large towns and busy roads that were gradually spreading like a malignant cancer over other parts of the country. Yet Yorkshire had thus far retained the tranquil atmosphere of the English countryside, rich in woodland life, and a sheep farming community at heart. The woolly creatures grazed in impressively sized herds, swarming over the green fields, followed by gambolling lambs that were now growing fat on their mothers milk, and more concerned with play than gazing as they explored their lush pastoral home.
Villages dotted the landscape in sporadic patches, the winding country roads linking them between the hills and over the moorland. Larger houses were situated out of the main village area, lording over extensive grounds and keeping areas of private woodland aside for the rearing of pheasants and deer. In between the smaller cottages and the grand manors, lay the larger homes of the more well off residents, mainly merchants or those fortunate enough to inherit such properties from deceased family members.
The Woodmeres were one such family. Phillip Woodmere and his wife, Margaret, had happily taken up resident in Bramble-Down House after Phillip's great-Uncle Charles had passed away. Charles Woodmere had been a wizard of renowned Herbologist knowledge and proprietor of many successful nurseries of rare species of plants, non-indigenous to the colder climate of the British Isles, acting as the main supplier to St. Mungo's Medical Potions research facility in London. Upon his death, his grand home passed to his great-nephew in which to raise his forthcoming children with his newly wed wife.
Margaret Woodmere had prided herself on her good fortune, being raised in a poorer area of London then meeting Phillip in her final year at Hogwarts School. He had been well off by anyone's standards and Margaret saw to it that she kept his full attention following their graduation, thus ensuring a stable relationship and consequent marriage. However, the sudden wealth had gone to the witch's head somewhat. Adopting a snobby attitude to her peers, Margaret lost many of her former friends but settled herself into the 'upper-class' circles, and over the years had secured a prestigious position as the Chair Woman of the Yorkshire Witches Society and was a keen Fancy Hippogriff rider.
All five of the Woodmere children, two sons and three daughters, had been lavished with all that their proud parents could bestow upon them as they grew up. All of them enrolled at Hogwarts in due course, leading Margaret to boast unashamedly at her Witches meetings about her intelligential offspring each being Sorted to Ravenclaw in turn. That is, until her youngest daughter started school. It was a messy letter that arrived by owl a few days later that Diane broke the news of being Sorted to Hufflepuff, her sloppy handwriting doing little to hide her pleasure at the result.
Margaret Woodmere had despaired that her way-would daughter would ever show herself to reflect her background, but the young witch had pursued Care of Magical Creatures and attended the school's duelling club in favour of her sisters' preferences for Arithmancy and the more docile Charms Club. The sport of Quidditch was not considered a lady-like pastime, but had her elder sisters not been so inclined to tell tales on her, Diane would have tried out for her House team at the first opportunity. As it was, Diane Woodmere had another reason for her interest in the sport: Julian Lupin, Keeper for the Hufflepuff Quidditch team.
Convinced it was merely a 'passing phase', neither Phillip nor Margaret expressed too much concern over Diane's interests, until after both her elder sisters, Clarissa and Miranda, had settled down with fine wizards of other well off families and started young families of their own, that the Woodmeres questioned their headstrong daughter's intentions for the future.
'You're nearly twenty now, Diane,' said Margaret, fluttering about the kitchen in a swirl of pale yellow sparks as she straightened up the dining table for her weekly meeting and afternoon tea. 'You really should be thinking about finding yourself a decent husband, like Clarissa and Mark. My third grandchild is on the way and here you are still at home. Whatever are we going to do with you?'
'Mother, I'll get married when I find the right person,' was the dreamy response from by the window.
'Diane, please,' Margaret's face was pained. 'It's not lady-like to sit on a window ledge in that manner; get off there at once. Daydreaming – your head is too full of ideas and wistful thinking, my dear. Your duty lies in finding a decent husband and keeping a household well run … none of this silly future nonsense.'
Diane simply replied to her mother's constant ramblings with an occasional 'yes, mother' or 'no, mother' as the conversation required. 'Decent' and 'husband' never went without the other as far as her parents were concerned. Though her father was not as insistent, he did share his wife's view of the matter. Gazing out of the window at the rolling hills, Diane imagined herself far away, with a little cottage of her own with a pretty garden. She had no desire or the patience for such a superficial lifestyle as this. The longing to make her own way in life had been nurtured from a few wistful musing into an attainable goal – once she had gathered the courage to take the first step.
And that step, included one Julian Lupin.
Secretly corresponding by owl post since leaving Hogwarts, Diane and Julian had long since fallen in love and made future plans together. Julian was more than happy with Diane's dream of a little cottage of their own, feeling an empathy towards her need to escape such a restricting life. Not claiming to be partially wealthy, Julian was nevertheless capable and resourceful. Talented in Charms and Transfiguration, combined with a love of flying had led him to an apprenticeship with Ottoman's Flights of Fancy as a designer and broom-crafter. With a secure job with some good prospects, Diane hoped that Julian would fall comfortably in her parents 'decent husband material' category.
Not one to abide with pet or nicknames, however fond, Margaret Woodmere took great offence at any attempt to address her as 'Maggie' or 'Marge'. Unfortunately, that had proved to be Julian's big mistake when Diane had first introduced him to her parents. All of Julian's valiant attempts at friendless had been given a very frosty reception, which had thus conceded itself to the norm for all future visits, especially when Julian and Diane announced at the New Year family gathering that they were engaged. Congratulations were extended though rather forced due to Mrs. Woodmere's sudden departure from the dining room and subsequent Basilisk-like glares at the young man who dared to whisk her daughter away.
The relationship between the Lupins and the Woodmeres had become very strained. Diane refused to allow her parents disapproving attitude spoil their happiness however, and found her dream home and set about expanding her knowledge of robe tailoring with a few other young witches in Sedbergh, working from home to procure work-robes for local companies.
Sadly, there was one part of the Lupins lives that remained unfulfilled. All attempts to start a family had failed. For two years Diane failed to conceive. Visits to Healers found an abnormality in her ovaries, which made it unlikely that she would ever have a child. Growing stubborn in her desire to keep her dreams alive, Diane tried everything to help her become pregnant. Then, several months later, after missing a period, Diane took a test.
'JULIAN! WE DID IT! WE'RE GOING TO BE PARENTS!'
The hysterically happy screams could be heard from the other side of the village.
But their happiness did not last long. Three weeks into the pregnancy, Diane suffered a miscarriage. It was a heart-wrenching blow, but a few months later, Diane pulled herself together, determined to try again.
'The Healers said I wouldn't get pregnant, but I did. If we can do it once, we can do it again,' was her firm belief. Julian, too, desired to raise to family, but when Diane suffered a second miscarriage eight months later, he tried to gently explain to his wife that even if they never had a child, it didn't mean they couldn't be happy. Adoption was always an option. Diane agreed, but in her heart, a child of her own flesh and blood was what she wanted above everything else, and they committed themselves to another attempt.
Two more years passed. At twenty-five, Diane had endured four miscarriages and was still childless. Correspondence between herself and her siblings became almost unbearable as they happily told of their children's antics, whether it was their first word, or a ride on a winged horse at a friend's house. Photographs of her nieces and nephews were often sent, sending fresh waves of misery and hope as Diane gazed at the chubby smiling faces, beaming as they posed with their proud parents, or in their new school robes. There was an almost smug tone to some of the letters as time passed and still Diane had no happy news to reply with. Julian was an only child and when his elderly parents passed away, he grew more anxious about the child-situation, knowing that his mother and father had wished for grandchildren too, but had been very sympathetic and supportive towards them both rather than flaunt photographs of smiling children at them at every opportunity.
Finally, when Diane and Julian had all but given up, a miracle happened. The Lupins were extremely wary at first.
'I'm only a few days late,' Diane had insisted, nervously picking at her food when she mentioned it to Julian that evening. 'It doesn't necessarily mean anything.'
Julian nodded; working to keep his face passive while his mind was in turmoil. Another miscarriage was more than either of them could bear. They didn't dare to get their hopes up; after all, what where the chances of this time being any different?
Several weeks passed, and still Diane didn't have a period. A slight weight gain gave her a heart a flutter, but again, she feared to try and confirm what had long since been labelled a hopeless cause by her family, and slowly gaining acceptance in her mind. But a seed of doubt had already been planted, and hope suddenly bloomed once more when Diane found herself being sick one morning in October. Bubbling with anticipation, yet quivering with fear and what felt like a million other conflicting emotions, Diane paced round and round the bedroom, desperately trying to leave the test alone for a few minutes to give an accurate result.
As Diane eventually picked up the test with trembling hands, the blue line that looked up at her seemed to glow with an unexpected radiance in the early morning light.
Julian had rushed home from work so fast that a Portkey wouldn't have kept up. But after the initial celebration, the Lupins calmed down and forcibly restrained their rapidly mounting joy. St. Mungo's Healers confirmed it a few days later.
'You're two months pregnant,' said the smiling witch. 'Congratulations!'
Diane and Julian were so overcome that they both broke down in tears of joy, hugging each other fiercely. Following the Healers orders to the letter, Diane and Julian did everything possible to ensure that Diane kept herself healthy and as calm as possible. The pregnancy progressed to its third and then fourth month. Finally out of the most dangerous time for risk of miscarriage, Diane sent out letters to her family to finally break the happy news.
The Woodmeres were pleasantly surprised to hear of Diane's long awaited pregnancy, though given past events, were reluctant to make a fuss. With twelve other grandchildren already in school, such a late addition seemed rather unprecedented. Phillip wrote Diane back with congratulations and best wishes, hopeful that this time, his pretty daughter would finally hold a baby of her own in her arms in a few months time.
Time passed swiftly for Diane and Julian, happily anticipating the birth. They had asked not to know the sex of the unborn child. After so much time, it hardly mattered whether it was a boy or a girl; they only wished for it to be healthy.
Then, six weeks prior to the expected due date, Diane awoke in the middle of the night in early February with sharp pains in her lower back. When they grew steadily worse, followed by Diane's waters suddenly breaking, the realisation hit them. Diane had gone into labour nearly two months early.
Frightened and in agony, the memories of all her earlier pregnancies came rushing back to Diane as Julian frantically contacted St. Mungo's. Closing her eyes tightly against the mounting pain, Diane begged whatever powers existed in the universe for the life of her child.
Please don't rob us of this … we've waited so long … please, let my child live …
The Healers arrived too late. When they Apparated to the cottage and Julian had led them inside and upstairs to the bedroom, Diane had already given birth. Her face wet with tears, but beaming as only a new mother can, Diane held the precious new child in her arms, too tired to speak. Julian cried at the sight of the child, tiny but perfect in every way. For quite some time, the two parents just held the baby between, admiring what they had created. In fact, it was a while before Julian thought to ask.
'Is it a boy or a girl?' he enquired as one of the Healers gently took the child to examine it.
'A boy,' sighed Diane happily, laying back against the pillows as the rest of the Healers checked her over.
Julian's face lit up, not able to take his eyes off his son, who was promptly screaming blue murder at being taken from his mother. The Healer waved her wand slowly over the crying child then handed him to his father, smiling.
'He's fine,' she assured them in hushed tones. 'Premature babies are always on the small side, but there's nothing physically wrong with him.'
Diane nodded, watching Julian hold his son to his chest. The tiny baby calmed down and opened his eyes, gazing out at the world with large pale eyes. The Healers looked on, smiling as they prepared to leave.
'What's his name?' asked one of the young wizards curiously.
Diane and Julian looked at each other.
'We haven't discussed it actually,' said Julian with a small laugh. 'We thought we still had time to think about it.' Brow furrowed, Julian lapsed into thoughtful silence, gently touching his son's cheek. The baby boy turned at the touch, squirming.
'He's hungry,' said Diane, her eyes half closed and her voice betraying how tired she was. Carefully, Julian laid the newborn in her arms once more.
'Di,' said Julian. 'I was just wondering if you did have any thoughts as to a name.'
Diane murmured an answer.
'I think he should have his daddy's name,' she whispered, grinning.
Julian blinked, and then his eyes shone.
'Well, I'm not sure if we ought to have two Julians; that might be rather confusing.'
'How about Jacob? After my great-grandfather?'
Julian mulled it over.
'I like it … I was going to suggest Remus, myself … after my father.'
Diane opened her eyes. She looked down at the feeding baby in her arms.
'Remus,' she said softly. The baby stopped suckling for a moment, squirmed and then settled down again. 'I'll take that as a "yes",' whispered Diane happily. She looked back up at her husband, who was waiting expectantly for her verdict. 'How does Remus Jacob Lupin sound?'
'That sounds perfect,' said Julian, and kissed her tenderly on the forehead.
In Diane's arms, Remus gave a little cough and cried, announcing his arrival to the world.
-o-
The birth of their son went a long way to alleviating the strained relationship between the Lupins and the Woodmeres, though contact remained at an almost minimal level. As Remus grew from a tiny baby into a bright little toddler, visits to the grandparents gradually increased. But after a while, the old arguments and stigma returned. Diane and Julian, overjoyed at having a child after so long, agreed that Remus was more than they'd hoped for. If another child came along then so be it, but after so much turmoil and emotional stress, they did not actively set out to have another. As far as they were concerned; one was enough.
As Remus grew older, it was clear that he wasn't overly keen on visiting his grandparents any more than his parents were. Though his grandmother happily sat him on her knee and would read him a story or share her Ginger Newts with him, the visits never felt comfortable to him. Conversation between the adults around him always seemed forced, and his father would fidget, usually excusing himself at the earliest polite moment and spent the rest of the visit in the garden, or in the conservatory during bad weather.
Remus knew little of what had gone on between his father and his grandparents before he was born, but he was perceptive enough to pick up that his grandparents disliked Julian, regardless of whatever he did or said.
However, with little choice as to where to go, the Lupins reluctantly headed for Yorkshire.
So it was with some trepidation that Margaret Woodmere opened her front door to her youngest daughter with her husband and son in tow, carrying between them all their worldly possessions in various battered boxes and bags, asking if they could stay for a while.
The reception was rather frosty. Mrs Woodmere cast an accusing eye over her son-in-law, before noting the state of her weary daughter and ushering them all inside, quickly closing the door behind them. Explaining the situation over a cup of tea, Diane kept everything brief, fearing her mother's retribution for her grandson's condition. Margaret listened in uncharacteristic silence, as did Julian, though his was due to the effort not to get on Mrs Woodmere's bad side the moment he stepped in the door. Mrs. Woodmere's expression went from haughty indifference, to curiosity, through to an unsettled confusion before looking at her daughter with ill-disguised enmity. She looked sharply at Remus, sitting on his father's lap.
'So …' she said finally, setting down her cup of Earl Grey. 'Remus is – has … well, this is quite …' She trailed off, somewhat lost for words.
Diane sighed.
'Remus has lycanthropy,' she said softly. It was painful to even think about, but her mother's expression was bringing out something else; something Diane had been dreading since they'd made the decision to seek refuge with the Woodmeres. 'There's nothing the Healers can do. The rest of the villagers weren't … keen … on allowing us to stay, so we decided to leave.' When her mother still didn't comment, she added hastily, 'We won't stay long. We just needed somewhere temporary while we get ourselves sorted out.'
Margaret threw a sidelong look at Julian and Remus.
'Well, I suppose if it is only temporary,' she said slowly, after a few minutes of stony silence, 'then you can have the guest room.'
Diane was thankful, but it was hardly the warm welcome she'd hoped for. Margaret quickly bustled out of the kitchen, muttered distractedly about rearranging her Society meeting. Julian watched her go, catching the expression of mingled disgust and horror on the old witch's face behind her daughter's back.
'Well,' he said sardonically. 'She took it better than I expected.'
'I think she needs a little time to get used to the idea,' said Diane. Her hands were twisting anxiously in her lap.
'Let's not stay long.'
'We won't. I don't want to be here any more than you do,' she hissed in an undertone. 'But if you have a better idea, then do share it and we'll go.'
Julian had no suggestion. They had nowhere else to go and they needed to report the attack to the Ministry. Julian set out early the next morning to London, intending to consult the Law Enforcement Department and the Werewolf Support Office for help and advice. Unfortunately, the results weren't as good as he'd expected. The Law Enforcement Squad duly noted the attack but could nothing as Julian was unable to identify the perpetrators, nor give a good reason for why anyone would want to attack his home. Julian had refrained from mentioning that his son had contracted lycanthropy, for fear it would lessen their chances further of gaining assistance. It made little difference. The Squad wasn't interested. Dejected but not deterred, Julian went straight to the Werewolf Support Service. He'd had better luck; at least the attack was taken more seriously, but there wasn't much the WSS could do. They advised that if the Lupins felt threatened then they ought to move away, to which Julian informed them that they already had taken that step but were at a loss for what to do next. The wizard Julian spoke to had assured him that he would try and locate a 'safe-zone', somewhere the Lupins could go where there were fewer wizards and less chance of being discovered. Apparently, there were several registered werewolves on a constant relocation programme, moving them on after every full moon to try and keep them safe. Concern at the prospect of almost continuous moving, Julian was reluctant to consent to the idea until he'd discussed it with Diane.
Upon his return to Bramble-Down, Diane, Julian and Remus discussed what options they had. There were few indeed. Finding another home could take a long time and Julian could not afford to take any more time off work; he'd already missed several days and was worried that any more would cast an unfavourable shadow on him. It was clear that knowledge of Remus' condition had spread fast at Ottoman's. So far, nothing had been said, but Julian had felt the eyes on him while he worked. He didn't say anything to Diane. She had enough on her mind.
Julian returned to work and Diane had agreed to wait for the Support Services to get back to them about a safe-zone, while trying to build bridges with her parents, a task that was problematical at best.
Phillip, upon learning of Remus' condition, was less than comfortable with the arrangement. The prejudice against werewolves was so deeply ingrained in the wizarding subconscious that both the Woodmere's were finding the news that their grandson had been infected very difficult to deal with. Phillip seemed to think that by ignoring Remus that the problem could be sufficiently hidden and refused to comment. Margaret on the other hand, once past the initial shock, found plenty to say, much to Remus' discomfort.
Having left his moody grandfather in the living room earlier that morning, Remus had amused himself by wandering around and exploring the rooms. A few had been decorated since his last visit, but the novelty quickly wore off. There was nothing to do, and he didn't have any of his toys to play with. The house seemed to be miles from anywhere so there was little chance of going into the village to find someone to play with.
At the thought, Remus recalled the callous attitude of the children of Sedbergh and shuddered. No. No one would want to play with him. So he took to meandering down the long hallway, gazing listlessly at the photographs that covered every inch of the flowery-patterned walls.
There were many of his aunts and uncles with all of their children, his elder cousins. Most of them were grown-up by now, one or two had married last year in fact. Remus had only met them a few times, but none had been especially interested in playing with him. A number of wedding photos adorned the wall nearer the kitchen, while individual shots of his cousins adored the stairwell and the upstairs landing.
Looking for his parents, Remus found only one of their wedding, a low-key affair though the two people in the photo were no less happy than the others, smiling and waving, his mother in a simple but pretty white dress and his father looking very smart in his suit. Searching the rest of the photos occupants (though proving tricky given the subjects tendency to wander into each others frames) Remus found it strange that he was only in one. It was a small picture, half-hidden among an array of larger baby pictures, his mother laying in bed and propped up on pillows, holding him to her, looking absolutely exhausted but happy.
He'd paused to watch his Aunt Clarissa struggling to keep three young boys on her lap, all of whom were fidgeting and trying to avoid the camera, or else pulling faces at him, when the sound of his mother and grandmother's voices caught his attention.
Remus turned to look down the hall towards the kitchen, where the door stood ajar. It was only due to the face that his grandmother was trying to keep her voice down whilst his mother answered quite normally, if a little sharply, that Remus had noticed anything. The odd exchange lured him to the door. Stopping just short of the threshold, Remus peered through the gap in the door and listened.
'How long?' asked Margaret, careful to keep her voice low. Holding a steamy cup of tea in her wizened hands, the old witch seemed to be under the impression that the half the village was listening in. Her dark eyes kept flicking to the open window.
Diane was out of Remus' line of sight, but he could hear her pacing slowly at the other end of the room.
'Just over a week,' she answered heavily.
Margaret raised her thin eyebrows.
'Well, you ought to get a move on then, hadn't you? I won't have it here, you understand? There's nowhere for him to be.'
There was a moment's pause.
'What do you mean by that?' came Diane's cool response. Remus leaned to one side, trying to catch a glimpse of her. He knew that tone. His mother was not happy.
His grandmother sighed in exasperation.
'You know what I mean, Diane.'
'No, I don't, Mother. If you have something to say, then say it.'
'I mean that when he … changes,' she whispered the word like it was a forbidden oath, her expression pained, 'then it ought to be as far from here as possible.'
'Mother, if you want us out, then you needn't have concerned yourself,' Diane snapped impatiently. 'We're leaving as soon as we can, which,' she added in a cold undertone as she crossed the room. Remus drew back as she walked past, 'in all honesty, is not soon enough.'
'I'm just saying that if it's going to happen, then it ought to be somewhere …' She waved her hand in front of her, searching for the word, '…safe.'
'For who? You? Are you afraid your social standing is going to suffer because your grandson has been attacked by a - '
'Diane Louise Woodmere, keep your voice down!'
Margaret fluttered over to the window and shut it with a firm flick of her wand.
'You can't even bare to hear the word, let alone say it!' Disgust vibrating in every syllable, Diane raised her hand to stop her mother as she opened her mouth to speak again. 'Your grandson is suffering from lycanthropy, damn it! That doesn't make him any different from the little boy you used to sit on your knee and tell stories to, or share those ginger newts with! He is my flesh and blood – your flesh and blood – and as his mother I will stand by my child for he has done nothing to deserve this; don't you dare blame him for something that is not his fault!'
Remus took a step back, feeling terribly anxious. His mother rarely shouted. His grandmother fixed Diane with an appraising look, a sneer on her lips.
'Then whose fault is it?' She folded her arms and raised her voice loftily. 'Who is responsible? You say he was in the woods in the middle of the night -'
'It was nine in the evening, hardly the middle of the night, and he was on the edge of the woods,' Diane interrupted.
'Why was he even there?' Margaret carried on as if her daughter hadn't said a word. 'Why had he not been called inside before the moon was up? Who allowed him to be out of sight?'
'Are you saying this is my fault?' Diane asked incredulously.
Margaret held up her hands in mock surrender and said in a simpering voice, 'I'm not casting blame, Diane, merely making an observation.'
Diane glared.
'Oh, I see, of course, it makes perfect sense! I've never done anything right, have I, mother? I wasn't clever enough for Ravenclaw, and I certainly never liked acting like a prim and proper little madam all the time, while my wonderful sisters can do no wrong – perfect husbands and lots of children, whilst the man I chose to marry is beneath you and the one child I struggled for years to have is not worthy of your notice, let alone your love- '
'Diane - '
'And now Remus is ill with something that can't be cured, you won't even acknowledge him as family! I'm sorry to say this mother, but I think that's disgusting! You've always been disappointed no matter what it is I've done, but don't you dare take it out on Remus, not when he needs the support of his family more than anything else!'
'WHAT DO YOU EXPECT ME TO DO?' cried Margaret. Her wrinkled face was screwed up in anger. 'Carry on as if nothing has happened? Regardless of what he was before, that boy is going to turn into a monster; he's not even human any more. Now, I'm sorry it's happened but – '
'But what?' Diane looked like she'd been slapped hard in the face. She was staring in avid disbelief at the old witch. 'Sorry for what? For saying my son is less than human?'
'For telling you the truth.' Margaret's eyes were narrowed and cold. 'What kind of life can you possibly have now? In a weeks' time, you'll have a murderous beast on your hands and what are you going to do about that, hmm? No one in their right mind is going to help a vicious creature that will kill them as soon as look at them. Have you forgotten everything you learnt at school about them? They are soulless, evil creatures that ought to be destroyed … you may be under the delusion that it was a blessing that he even survived the attack, but I'll tell you the truth … he should have died … it would have been better for all of us if he had died, rather than still be alive and a monster.'
'No, no, NO!' Diane shook her head violently. Tears were streaming down her ashen face. 'Don't say that! Don't you dare say that about my son!'
'It's the truth!' Margaret crowed maliciously. 'Whether you accept now or later, you know it's true!'
'I KNOW IT'S MY FAULT!' Diane yelled back. 'Remus only did w-what I t-told him to do. I-I told him not to lose that s-stupid Quaffle – if I hadn't he wouldn't have gone after it into the w-woods and this never would have happened!' Shaking uncontrollably, Diane sank, sobbing, in the nearest chair.
Margaret stood there for a minute, watching her daughter cry her heart out, slumped over the table, her head on her arms. She heaved a sigh.
'I know this isn't easy, dear, but you must pull yourself together. You said so yourself; nothing can be done about it.' She spoke in what she must have believed to be a comforting tone, but Diane's cries only intensified. Awkwardly, Margaret reached out a withered hand and patted Diane's quaking shoulder. 'There, there, come along now, buck up. Whatever would your father say if he saw you bawling like a child -'
Diane abruptly sat up. She smacked her mother's hand off her shoulder and glared with cold fury in her wet eyes.
'Don't touch me,' she growled. Pushing the chair back, Diane leapt to her feet and stalked towards the door. Just as she reached it however, she spun on her heel to face her mother. The older witch appeared quite unconcerned by her daughter's reaction, but the intensity of her stare left Margaret unable to suppress a chill.
'I don't care what anyone else believes,' said Diane, her voice quite steady, 'and I never have. My son is not a monster. I love him too much just to give up on him; he deserves a chance like everyone else in the world. He survived for a reason, I'm sure of it … and I'm going to help him until he finds out what that reason is.'
Margaret said nothing. Turning her back on her mother, Diane wrenched the kitchen door open and swept out of the room.
The hallway was empty.
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To Be Continued …
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Please leave a review. All comments and constructive criticisms are greatly appreciated.
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Author's Notes.
MissPadfoot92 – I hope you enjoyed this long chapter (so much for my attempts to keep them short). Thanks for reviewing.
Aerlalaith – Hate crimes seem the norm with anyone or anything that isn't understood and feared. They aren't pleasant to write about and as a werewolf you can bet that Remus' life is going to be anything but easy. You may need to stock up on tissues.
Evil spapple pie – I have to agree with you whole-heartedly on that point. As for the incident being 'a warning', it was harsh but made a point. It would be possible to reconstruct the house with some magical assistance, but after that incident do you think the Lupins would really want to stay in the area?
NightSpear – I love to write angst, it brings out all kinds of emotion. The first transformation will be the next chapter and it's not a pleasant experience for Remus or his parents. On a happier note, I'm pleased to inform you that this fic will indeed be covering the 'marauder years' in due course. I've got so much to include rather than skimming over the first year, having his friends discover his lycanthropy and fast forward to the Animagus transformations. I'm determined to fill in a few blanks of what else went on whilst our favourite foursome of pranksters were at Hogwarts. Really looking forward to writing those chapters!
Rawiya Prabhakar – Thank you so much for saying so! Glad you're enjoying it so much.
Shadow00 – I've no intention of quitting on this fic, no worries. It's my personal favourite and it's going to be the longest one yet! Been trying to figure out whether I ought to continue it beyond Remus' school years and take it on through his involvement with the Order, the end of the last war and … I just had a vision of a hundred plus chapters – good thing, bad thing? Someone let me know before I go crazy and never stop.
Yoda – Yay! So glad you like it! (And thanks for pointing out that silly spelling mistake.) Ah, Mr Cuttlesworth, bigot falls short off what he is but it's probably the only insult I can get away with without being reported. He's based on someone I had the misfortune to know. Same with Tyler and Edna actually. They're not carbon copies of the real people but the attitudes are basically the same. I'm basing a lot of this fic on real events in my own life as Remus is the character I can identify with the most.
Steph Silverstar – I will be doing my best to keep this compatible with everything we know so far from JK.Rowling about Remus and the Marauders. I just hope that she doesn't reveal something that is going to conflict any of the ideas I have in mind already. Hope you'll enjoy the rest of the fic.
Eladriewen - Thanks for the review! The next chapter should be posted soon.