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Chapter Five: Selene's Chariot
Helping Ginny pull her trunk out of the fireplace, Remus looked around the small set of rooms attached to the hospital wing. It really wasn't much, as she'd warned him; a bedroom, a bathroom, and a living room. He carried the trunk into the newly cleaned bedroom and set it down at the foot of the bed. He had offered to help her unpack, but she had adamantly refused. "The only other one who knows where things are supposed to go is Hermione," she had explained, perfectly serious. "Seeing as she has an important meeting with one of her professors at uni, I'll just have to do it myself. It'll drive me crazy to have things in the wrong place."
She followed him out of the grate and glanced around briefly. "Home, sweet home," she announced, absently brushing the soot and ash off her jeans and t-shirt.
"Home, tiny home," he amended.
"Yes, well. It's still home, and it'll be far quieter than the Burrow. At least until school starts anyway." She looked at him out of the corner of her eye. "Where's Callum?"
"Still sleeping," he answered, a shadow passing over his face. "His dreams last night were pretty bad."
"Full moon's tonight? That's not so surprising. Oh, and guess what? More news."
"What's that?" he asked, enjoying her obvious amusement.
"Hermione will be lurking around this summer, as well. She's Snape's apprentice until term starts."
He was suddenly very glad that he had already set the trunk down, or he probably would have dropped it painfully on his foot. "Wait a minute, say that again?"
"Hermione is Snape's apprentice," she repeated dutifully, her brown eyes dancing. "It took some doing, but he finally convinced her."
"HE convinced HER?" he echoed, sure that he'd heard her wrong.
"Took him three months and Merlin knows how many owls to her at uni to do it, too," she added.
A slow, beatific smile spread across the man's face, and Ginny could almost see the Marauder wheels turning. "I can't wait until Callum's ready to eat in the Great Hall again," he murmured blissfully.
Giggling, Ginny went into her bedroom and sat down on the floor in front of her trunk. "So what's the plan for tonight?"
He followed her and leaned against the bedpost. "I'm thinking about taking us down to the Shrieking Shack," he answered gravely. "First transformation is rough, even with the Wolsfbane. I'd really rather not have my office or my chambers destroyed if I can possibly help it."
"What time is Heidi coming out?"
"Excuse me?"
She looked up at him with a slight frown. "I got an owl from Heidi yesterday; she said she was coming out for the next few days, to be with Callum during the sunshine hours."
"She didn't say anything to me or Callum."
Reaching out, she took his hand and squeezed it gently. "Maybe she changed her mind, then. Go get some rest, Remus; you'll need it to help Callum tonight."
"The most devious and the most perceptive," he told her, grinning. "You really lucked out, you know that?"
"GO, Remus," she laughed. "Or did you particularly want to stay while I organize my bras and underwear?"
"I'm going!" he said quickly. Chuckling, he walked out of her rooms and strolled through the hallways. The wolf, so terribly alert this close to the moon, informed him of someone waiting outside his door before he turned the final corner. He sniffed the air thoughtfully, running it through the lists in his mind of familiar scents. He recognized it, but hadn't spent much time close to it. It was perfume, and soap, concern, and little fear. Then Ginny's words clicked in his brain. "Miss Sleipak," he greeted calmly, coming around the corner. "A surprise, to be sure."
She flushed faintly at the hint of censure; she was a pureblood, after all, and there were certain rules she'd neglected to follow. "I wanted to see Callum," she explained. "He hasn't answered my past two letters."
"He's been tired," he replied. "He's been dozing off and on through most of the days recently."
"Can I see him, please?"
Remus gave his password and courteously allowed her to go first. He motioned to the couch, and she took the hint and sat. "I'll go see if he's awake." He walked into Callum's bedroom, where the boy was just beginning to stir. He had mixed feelings about that; he hadn't been planning on waking him up, but at the same time, he wanted him sleeping, wanted him getting rest for the horrors to come.
Grey eyes blinked at him sleepily from under a nest of blankets. "I heard voices," he mumbled.
"Your sister's here."
Callum sat straight up in bed, all haziness gone. "No!" he exclaimed. "The full moon's tonight!"
"She's out in the living room."
Frowning, Callum thought his way through it, and Remus wondered if the boy would be put in Ravenclaw when the time came for him to be a student. Getting out of bed, her quickly changed into the clothes he would wear until the transformation, dragging his fingers through his messy curls. When they were in some semblance of order, he walked out into the living room, leaving a bemused Remus to follow.
"Callum!" Heidi flew off the couch to embrace her brother, her glacier blue eyes sparkling with unshed tears. "How are you? I've missed you so much."
"I'm fine, Heidi," he assured her. "Mister Remus has been taking really good care of me."
The blonde smiled and sat back down on the couch, taking his hand in hers. "I'm going to be here for you, Callum," she told him. "I told Mother and Father that I was at a friend's, so I'll be able to stay here for you."
"No, Heidi."
"What?"
"What?" Remus echoed, brow furrowed as he tried to understand the complicated little boy.
"Heidi, I'm your little brother," he began.
"I know that, but-"
"I'm your little brother," he said again, cutting her off. "That's how I want you to think of me. That's the way I want you to picture me in your mind when my name crosses your thoughts. I don't want you to think of me as the monster you'll see if you stay. Please, Heidi, please let me have that," he pleaded.
She stared at him, the tears streaking down her face, but she nodded. "Next week, though," she countered. "Next week, you have to let me come see you."
"Next week," he agreed. "Now you'll need to get to a friend's, just in case."
Smiling sadly, she hugged him tightly, brushing the tears off her cheeks. "I'll be thinking of you," she whispered. "Just remember that I love you."
"I love you, too."
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Remus' feet dragged on the familiar path to the Whomping Willow, and heard a smaller pair of feet showing a similar reluctance. The sun was setting beautifully, the moon not yet risen. They had both drunk the steaming Wolfsbane Potion, delivered by Snape who had said nothing to either of them, although it had taken some doing on Callum's part to get it down. It really was foul, there was no doubt about that, but Remus was simply used to it. If it hadn't been for Molly Weasley's food, he might have doubted if he even still had taste buds.
He found a long stick and picked it up, using it to depress the catch at the base of the murderous tree. The clubbed branches froze, and he silently showed the boy the entrance to the hidden passageway, sliding down inside it. It had been quite a while since he'd come this way, he realized; even years, maybe. Since the Wolfsbane had been created, he'd mostly stayed in his office or at Grimmauld Place. His feet still knew the way, though, and it wasn't long before he and Callum emerged in the dilapidated, torn apart Shrieking Shack.
Callum looked around him, eyes wide at the destruction. "So," he said finally. "I'm guessing it's not haunted, then."
"Only by a werewolf," he answered, almost cheerfully. He was surprised to find that he actually had some decent memories associated with the place; hours of plotting with the Marauders, gloating over mischiefs managed, and finally, having Sirius returned to him, finding out that his friend was innocent. It had been at the cost of learning Peter's guilt, and he had to force himself not to think about Sirius' death two years later, but still…he wasn't plagued by the demons he thought would rise up out of the ruined furniture, the clawed walls, to terrorize him. He led Callum to one of the bedrooms and sat down on the edge of the lumpy mattress, pulling off his shoes. They'd brought spare robes with them, which Remus placed high out of the reach of the wolves, atop an old wardrobe.
"Now's the hardest part," he murmured. "We wait."
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The wolf inside him knew, as soon as the moon rose about the horizon, it knew. Remus could feel it clawing its way out, fur sprouting from his limbs, joints and bones twisting and changing…the savage pain in his head as the beast fought for control. The Wolfsbane made it easier for him to keep it, but it was a reign that was not unchallenged. He panted when it was over, long tongue lolling out of his open mouth, looking for Callum.
The boy was howling as he writhed on the floor, his small body morphing into the stretched wolf, the perpendicular, as Remus had put it that first night, neither human nor wolf. The howls ripped from his throat, howls of fury, or pain, of terror…of victory. He could see the exact moment Callum tried to take control of his own mind, tried to wrest it away from the demon, because the wolf snarled and brought its claws slashing across its snout. What did it care for pain, when the human would feel it for so much longer.
Remus threw himself at his charge and slammed his against the wall. He winced mentally, feeling the claws rip into his side, but he knew how much pain he could take; he didn't want Callum inflicting that pain on himself. The smaller wolf finally slumped against him, and they both fell to the floor, the larger one curling protectively around the cub, waiting and watching. Callum whimpered as the beast rose in his mind again, and Remus ached with the pain the boy was suffering, physically and emotionally. He threw his head back and howled, a sound of such absolute despair that the demons subsided, leaving the shell of a child to sleep fitfully within the circle of his guardian's warmth. Remus laid his chin gently on the top of Callum's head, listening to the small mews of protest as dreams once again invaded. He again debated the wisdom of dreamless sleep potion, but again decided not to; the potion had a way of saturating the bloodstream, until it could no longer be taken. Let him take it only for the worst ones, he reminded himself, tongue lolling out in a morbid lupine laugh at the thought of deciding which night terrors were the worst.
He curled himself tighter around the cub and patiently waited for the long night of hell to be over.
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The sun finally rose, and with it came the renewal of pain, the twist of bodies changing in ways they were never meant to change. When it was over, the two werewolves sat, fully human, on the floor. Remus was suddenly glad that he'd taken his shirt off before the transformation, and could now throw himself into it before the boy could see the deep wounds on his side. It throbbed acutely, and he knew he would have to get it very quickly taken care of, but at the moment, he was not his first concern; Callum was.
The boy stared at him with haunted, red-rimmed eyes, blood seeping from the scratches across his face. He opened his mouth, but nothing came out, but whether that was from emotion or from a night of howls, Remus couldn't tell. He held out his arms plaintively, like a child of younger years, and the man quickly took him up, holding him close against the sobs that began to rack the small body. He said nothing, merely held the boy tight, rocking him back and forth, back and forth. When the worst had passed, Remus gently kissed his forehead, smoothing back the auburn curls.
"Madam Pomfrey will be waiting for us," he whispered. "She'll have potions to ease the pain, and will heal the cuts."
"And then tonight we do it all over again," Callum added morosely.
Remus said nothing; what could he possibly say to refute that, when they both knew it was true? He wrapped them both in their spare robes and, still cradling the boy, headed down into the tunnel and out from underneath the Whomping Willow. The staff all knew what he was, of course, and it was by unspoken agreement that no one looked out those windows when he came staggering out in the mornings, just as no one watched them leave.
When they arrived in the infirmary, Poppy was indeed waiting, along with a pale Ginny Weasley. Remus' heart sank; as much as he told Callum about how his friends supported him, most of them hadn't seen him during a transformation, and even fewer had seen him after. He couldn't ever keep the despair from his eyes, couldn't ever appear less than haunted by the demon battles he'd fought and never quite won. Ginny didn't smile at him, there was little to smile about, but she nodded once in silent sympathy. He laid Callum down on the bed the mediwitch indicated and drew off the outer robes.
"I'm surprised," she noted softly, her wand busy checking him over inside and out. "First transformations usually come out much worse than this."
Remus once again said nothing. In time, the injuries would become less with each transformation, as Callum became more and more practiced at keeping rein over his mind, but it took time to learn that strength, even with the potion. The potion gave them the chance; it did not give them anything else. Part of him knew that it wasn't truly as dark as he was making out, but he always felt this way coming back in the morning, like he'd never smile again, never laugh.
Poppy healed the cuts across Callum's face with a few words, then had him drink a couple of potions, including a dreamless sleep potion. He knew from experience that the ones after a transformation, especially first transformation, were always the worst. Once the cub (boy, he told the wolf firmly) was sleeping peacefully, Poppy turned her attention to Remus. "How was it really?" she asked kindly.
"Awful," he admitted, his voice scratchy and hoarse. "It'll take time before he can control it well."
Poppy nodded and set about getting him his own set of potions, bustling over to the supply cabinet.
Ginny walked up to Remus and pushed him gently onto the bed in a sitting position. "Let me see," she ordered him quietly.
"See what?" he hedged. He could take care of it himself, if a little awkwardly; he didn't want her seeing what the beast was capable of. She just looked at him, patiently, and not knowing why he gave in, he pulled off his robes and shirt. "How did you know?"
"You grimaced when his hand clutched your side as you were putting him down," she answered calmly, carefully inspecting the injuries. "Lay down on your other side, will you? It'll make this easier to clean." He obeyed, and she sat next to him, casting the charms that would clean it, keeping out anything that might cause infection. They were very deep, he knew, but she didn't look horrified, only concerned, as she performed the spells to heal it. They were too deep to heal completely with magic, so she conjured some clean white bandages and patched him up expertly, her small hands tying a tight knot. He looked down at his abdomen, wrapped in the linen, and sighed.
Poppy came back with the potions and nodded in approval at Ginny's work. "Good girl, you knew just what to do. Remus, I have to go to Diagon Alley to pick up some more supplies for the infirmary, but I won't be gone long."
Remus thought about protesting, but drank his pain-easing potion instead, watching her bustle off.
He and Ginny sat in silence for a long time, and she eventually moved closer to the head of the bed. She reached out to the bedside table and dipped a cloth into the waiting bowl of water, wringing it out and gently wiping off his face. He hadn't taken the sleep potion, but he could feel her cool, capable hands brushing back his sweat-darkened hair, lulling him, soothing him. After a while, he heard her talking quietly.
"Sirius told us once, at Grimmauld Place, that you didn't like people seeing you after. He said you didn't like people seeing what was inside you. I understood, I suppose, though I didn't really. The werewolf was something you were inflicted with, not something you chose, and all I could see was how good a person you were in spite of it, how you lived and loved your life around it. It was Harry who helped me understand completely." She paused and rewet the cloth, applying it to the aching muscles in the back of his neck. "I was the only one he'd allow near him after he got possessed, and that was mainly because I didn't give him a choice. He hated it, hated me seeing how weak he was from the fight he couldn't yet win. It embarrassed him, I think. He thought there was something wrong with him that something so evil could thrive inside of him.
"There isn't, of course," she continued, still in that low, gentle tone, one that calmed both wolf and man. "The more good someone is, the more evil can feed off of them, thrive off of them. I decided that must be part of what goes through your mind, coming back each morning. And then I decided that you're awfully selfish, Remus J. Lupin. Do you really think that we don't see you for who and what you are? You're giving us very little credit. Sometimes, when you're really upset, we can see the wolf rise in your eyes. I won't say that it's not frightening, but did we ever leave the room? We're your friends, Remus, and that has to count for something.
"You keep up this cheerful front, but I can see through it, sometimes, when it's quiet and you don't think anyone is watching. It's like you carry the weight of the entire world on your shoulders; Harry used to have that same look. It's a possession, Remus. Have you ever looked up that word in the dictionary? One of its meaning is 'the state of being controlled by a supernatural force or strong emotion'. Did you hear that? 'Controlled by'. As in, you don't have control over it, it has control over you. And you're not the only one to know what it's like. Harry used to see Voldemort torturing and killing people, feeling his joy and his amusement at the waste. He said that sometimes, he felt everything so strongly that he would wake up wondering if it was really him that was feeling the glee, feeling that satisfaction.
"And I woke up one day in my first year at Hogwarts and realized that I had just all but killed one of my only friends." He started at that, but she kept him down on the bed with a firm hand on his shoulder. "Shush. I'm not finished yet. I spent the year being possessed by Tom Riddle, remember? He pretended to be my friend, pretended to be so understanding of me, and I trusted him. And he had me killing roosters, cutting myself to get blood to write with on the walls, setting a basilisk on people I knew, people I liked…on Hermione. And then he used to me to try to kill Harry, and then he would have killed me. I still have nightmares, you know. Almost every night, I wake up just short of screaming, remembering how I'd wake up that first year and not know why there was blood on my robes, not know why I had cuts on my arms. I'd wake up and hear that someone else had been petrified, and I'd wonder why I couldn't remember anything I'd done the night before.
"You're wallowing, Remus, and now you're doing it for both yourself and Callum, and it's going to kill you one of these days. So stop it. There are people who can help you, I can help you. You need to stop pushing us away just because you're afraid of what we might see. We just came out of a war less than a year ago. No one's innocent anymore. We're not going to run screaming from the room just because you growl a little when you're angry. Snape growls; what's his excuse?" She saw him smile slightly and placed the cloth back in the bowl, leaving it there and just stroking his grey-streaked hair back from his forehead, her fingertips grazing his temples. "We see you inside and out, and love you anyway. So try remembering that, yeh?
"Now, I want you to take your dreamless sleep potion. I will be right here when either of you wakes up." She held the vial to his protesting lips. "I'm not going anywhere," she told him again. "Callum needs you to be rested, and you need you to be rested, and I won't take any argument on this. Drink."
Helplessly, he obeyed, and he quickly fell off to sleep, tumbling over the brink to oblivion still feeling her soothing touch. Somewhere, in the part of his brain that kept thinking even while he slept, he knew that Selene's Chariot would ride across the sky twice more before granting him a short reprieve, and he ached for the torment Callum would be going through, but suddenly, the morning after didn't seem quite so bad.