Disclaimer: Are we really still in question about this?
A/N: I hope you all appreciate this chapter; it was one o'clock in the morning, and I knew I was going to have to be in at work at seven in the morning for our district manager's visit, but it wouldn't let me go to sleep without getting it out first. So, with that in mind, you know that little button down at the bottom of the page that says 'submit review'. People who click on that little button and follow through will make me very very happy, and convince me that not getting the sleep was worth it.
Chapter Nine: Hallowed Halls
Callum was distinctly unprepared for school to start. He had grown quite used to the castle being quiet, the numbers of teachers present fluctuating as they attended to visiting their families or friends, running necessary errands, all the things that teachers did when they had no students to give them headaches. He sat rigidly at one end of the High Table between Ginny and Hermione, who had shocked everyone by staying to apprentice towards a Potions Mastery rather than go back to university, staring at the mass of noisy, raucous students. Some of the more observant ones stared back.
Ginny squeezed his hand gently. "It's all right," she whispered. "It's not always this crazy."
"No, just close to it," Hermione snorted, watching two students from different houses scream at each other across the separating tables.
Remus, sitting as close to them as he could, heard Hermione's comment and smiled. "It's all right, Callum. You'll get used to it."
"What if I don't want to get used to it?" he muttered.
Ginny chuckled lowly. "What, you want to be a hermit?"
"What's a hermit?"
"It's someone who stays away from everyone else and lives completely on his own."
He mulled over that. "So only boys can be hermits? You said 'he'."
She clapped a hand over her mouth, stifling a giggle. "Women who go that route usually have cats. Lots and lots of cats."
Thinking of the slightly batty Arabella Figgs, Hermione laughed.
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When the Sorting Feast was over, Callum was more than happy to flee with Ginny and Hermione to the infirmary. Ginny had to be on duty, as Madam Pomfrey knew from experience that at the very least there would be some stomachaches from overeating at the feast. In reality, though, with the sudden influx of Slytherins and Gryffindors into a confined space, there were sure to be some hex victims in there, as well. Ginny sat down at her small desk in the corner of the wing, with Callum and Hermione perched on the nearest bed.
"Did you see the look on that one boy's face when the Hat started to sing?" Hermione asked gleefully. "I swear I knew he was going to be in Hufflepuff."
"He looked petrified, of course he was going to be in Hufflepuff."
Madam Pomfrey bustled over to them. That seemed to be her normal state of movement. She didn't walk, she bustled, her stiff skirts rustling with the motion. She checked the watch hanging in an apron pocket. "It's now ten minutes before curfew, so we should be getting the first batch in…three…two…one…"
The four shared a moment of silence, and nothing happened. A second later, the door at the end of the infirmary swung open and two new Ravenclaws entered, looking a little green around the gills. They stifled their laughter, and Ginny and Poppy dutifully went to take care of them, giving them potions to settle their stomachs and sternly warning them not to eat so much in the future.
"It should be another fifteen minutes or so until the fights start coming in," Poppy told the girls and Callum. "They generally don't appear until just after curfew."
"At least Harry and Ron had the decency to wait until classes had actually started," Hermione declared with a sniff.
"This coming from the girl who spent several weeks in here because she turned herself partway into a cat her second year." Hermione grabbed the pillow off the bed and hurled it at Ginny, who caught it easily. "Just saying," she shrugged.
"It was Christmas time," the bushy-haired girl retorted. "We'd gone through a whole term by then."
"You four were in here almost more than the rest of the school combined," Poppy told them drily.
"Well, of course," Ginny replied with wide, innocent eyes. "We four loved you more than the rest of the school combined."
Poppy smiled and fondly smoothed the girl's red hair. "Flatterer," she accused with a twinkle in her blue eyes. "I'm going to go in my office for right now, dears; just let me know when the ruffians start arriving."
Hermione watched her go, then pulled a deck of cards out of her robes. "Anybody up for a game of SlapJack?" she offered.
"Depends," Callum answered. "Are they wizarding cards or muggle cards?"
Well, it's just the deck Ron gave me, why?" she asked with a confused frown.
"Hermione, you don't want to play SlapJack with wizarding cards," Ginny told her calmly.
"Why not?"
"Because they have a tendency to slap back."
Hermione flinched and glared at the cards in her hand. "It figures. No wizarding games are truly safe anyway."
"How about Go Fish," the other girl suggested. "That's harmless."
Hermione and Callum agreed, so Ginny pulled her chair up to the bedside and they commenced play. Callum went through his hand, putting down his pairs, and looked up at Ginny. "Who goes first?"
"In the Weasely household, it's the youngest, because with so many of us that was the only way I got to play," she laughed. "So go ahead, Callum."
"Hermione, do you have a four?"
"Go fish."
The four in Callum's hand snaked out a long, thin line, latching onto one of the cards in the middle and dragging it back to him.
"Hermione, do you have a queen?" Ginny asked.
"Why is everyone picking on me?" she groused, handing over the card in question.
"Callum," Ginny began, blatantly ignoring the whine. "Do you have a nine?"
"Go fish."
Her card shot out a line and brought another one snaking back to it.
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Remus did one last patrol half an hour after curfew, then decided it was time to swing by the infirmary to pick up Callum. He knew Ginny would see the boy safely back to his quarters when it was time, but he had found himself getting very protective of Callum. The mass of people had visibly unnerved him, and that bothered the man.
He stepped silently into the infirmary, not missing the two second years, one wearing a red and gold tie, the other green and silver, sleeping in the beds with little antennae waving from their foreheads. Some things never changed. His hazel eyes cast about the room and fell on Ginny and Hermione sitting closely together on one of the narrow beds, their heads touching as they talked, and occasionally giggled, about something. Callum was sleeping, his head in Ginny's lap, one of his hands curled around a lock of her hair like an infant's. Smiling, he decided to sneak up on the two girls.
"God, Mione, that's disgusting," Ginny whispered, but his keen ears heard every word.
"Hey! I didn't say that about-"
"Well, yes, but he's-"
"And just how is-"
"But he's-"
"And just because-"
"All right, I'm-"
"Just please don't-"
"Do you really think I'm that-"
"Am I supposed to-"
"Some friend you-"
"I resent-"
"Could you imagine-"
"I hope they never-"
"Or if they ever-"
"We'd be so-"
"Dead," Ginny agreed, and they both snickered into their hands.
"I'm sorry, but do either of you actually know what the other said?" Remus asked bemusedly.
Two pairs of brown eyes turned to look at him, and Ginny's lips quirked wryly. "If we hadn't known what the other was saying, we would have said it," she answered reasonably.
He regarded both of them queerly, then shook his head in resignation. "Being male, I'm not going to understand this, am I?"
They traded glances, but this time, it was Hermione who smiled. "Probably not, no."
"How is he? He queried, moving to perch on the edge of the nearly-full desk.
"Sleeping peacefully," Ginny replied, smoothing Callum's auburn curls away from his pale face. "He told me his nightmares have been doing better recently."
"Ever since the storm."
Hermione looked to the other girl for enlightenment, but Ginny merely nodded, her gaze distant.
She shook her head a moment later and stared down at her hands. "I meant to ask you, do you mind if I start kidnapping Callum during the days? I didn't think he'd want to be stuck in your chambers all day while you teach, and it probably wouldn't be the brightest idea in the world to have him wandering the halls with the students."
"Oh?" He asked mildly, having already been wondering about that same problem.
"Students are mean, and they should be squished," she retorted, seeing through his nonchalance. "However, although most of the professors are too nice to give them the squishing they so richly deserve, and require, they feel like they can in turn squish anything smaller than them. I don't want Callum squished."
"And you're training to be a school healer why?" he grinned at her.
"Because I'll get them after they've been squished," she answered matter-of-factly, and the man just laughed. "It's very satisfying, to see them realize that they've been squished."
"You have an unwholesome fascination with that word," Hermione grumbled, her expression turning slightly sickly. "I'm off to bed; Severus wants me sitting in on the classes. He says it will give me an appreciation of why most Potions Masters don't take students."
"That sounds like Severus," Remus agreed dryly. "Good night, Hermione."
"Night, Mione."
"Night."
They watched her leave the infirmary, and as soon as the doors shut, Ginny started giggling helplessly.
Remus watched her, strangely content to have no idea what was going on. "What was with all the talk of squishing?" he asked her finally.
"Snape is determined to find something that will gross her out," she explained, still laughing. Her face started turning red from the exertion and lack of breath. "He has her handling the most disgusting ingredients imaginable, and she refuses to give him the satisfaction of knowing that it's getting to her. She spent the twenty minutes before dinner tossing up her toenails in the girls' loo! I just couldn't help myself."
"What were you two talking about when I came in?"
"Oh, a little of this, and a little of that," she shrugged, meeting his eyes and smiling.
"Yes, but a little of what? The part I did catch was that you'd be dead," he prompted, but she merely shook her head.
"No dice, Remus. That was between me and Mione." She arched an eyebrow at him when he would have protested. "How old are you?" she reminded, and he grimaced.
"Cheap shot."
"I take them where I can," she admitted graciously.
Callum shifted in his sleep, his nostrils flaring as he absorbed Remus' scent. "Oh, good," he murmured. "The whole pack's here." He snuggled closer in to Ginny and feel deeper into sleep.
"The pack?" Remus repeated, blood running cold through his veins.
Ginny nodded. "I think he and his wolf have come to a truce, of sorts. Callum doesn't push him out, and he doesn't try to take control away from the full moon. It seems to have been working fairly well these past two weeks."
"A truce."
"He's been raised being told that werewolves are evil, but he obviously knows your not evil. Maybe it occurred to him that not everything he's always been told has been true."
"Ginny, the wolf is evil," he told her flatly.
"Remus, the wolf is you." He flinched back violently, almost falling off the desk, and she fixed her eyes on her hands, refusing to look at him as she continued. "We always talk about it like it's a separate being, but it's not really, and you know that. Everyone has two voices in their brains; the muggles even portray them as little angels and devils sitting on their shoulders. Your second voice is just quite a bit darker."
"There's more to it than that," he growled.
"Of course there is. But there always is. The wolf is doing what is in its nature to do, and yes, the werewolf is too. You have three sets of instincts responding to the same situation. But think on this, Remus: how did the first werewolf come to be?"
He stared at her uncomprehendingly. "What are you talking about?"
"One of the benefits of hanging out with Hermione," she returned lightly. She traced her right index finger over the lines of her left palm, feeling the callous from years of gripping broomsticks and stir sticks and quills. "You have practically an entire encyclopedia sitting right next to you." She took a deep breath and finally looked at him. "The first werewolf was actually a muggle," she said quietly. "He was taken captive by a sick, twisted wizard who wanted to try and breed the wolf with the human. Animagi were much more common back then, but for some reason, he wanted to do it that way, so he stole the wolf's soul and forced it into the muggle's body. What chance did a werewolf ever have?
"You always act like those three days are such hell, and I'll grant you, they are, but what about the wolf? Have you ever thought that maybe he becomes so violent because those three days each month are the only freedom he ever has? That he tries so desperately to get out because his instincts scream with open spaces and movement, of the thrill of the hunt, and the joy of pack song?
"Sirius nearly went crazy cooped up at Grimmauld Place-"
"This is not about Sirius," he interrupted fiercely, still aching from the loss three years before. "Sirius was not a wolf."
"No, Sirius was a dog, a very large dog, which is closely related to the wolf and shares many of the same instincts: she retorted evenly. "A hell of a lot added up to make that night in the Department of Mysteries what it was, and that was part of it. He needed that freedom, both as a man and an animal. You seem to have forgotten what your friends taught you about the Animagus, Remus. Just like with the werewolf, you pick up the habits and instincts of the form you share. I mean, come on, haven't you ever heard Hermione purr when she's reading? Or seen the way McGonagall smiles for no good reason while standing in a sunbeam? I know you don't want to hear this, but Sirius did not escape from Azkaban with all of his sanity intact, and with both the dog and the man clamoring for space and freedom, it was just too much.
"I don't want to see the day when the wolf part of you decides that it's 'simply too much'. You have been fighting yourself day and night for almost your entire life. You were the peacemaker of the Marauders, Remus; why haven't you ever thought of making peace?"
She made sense, that was the worst part of it. He wanted to retreat into the sanctimoniousness of age and experience, look down at her and tell her that she was just a child, that she knew nothing. But. Remus couldn't look at her as a child, anymore, because of the tempest of confusion raging within him, and that meant that he couldn't dismiss her words as childish. Especially since he knew that they were anything but. Werewolves were evil, his mind insisted, and the demon within whined piteously. It wasn't a sound he could remember hearing very often.
It bothered him that Ginny understood so much. If he hadn't known better, he would almost have sworn she had lycanthropy herself. She seemed moon-struck at times, seeing the animal within the man. That crazy part of his brain wondered if she could also see the man within the animal.
"It's a lot to think about," she murmured, "and you have classes to teach in the morning. Not to mention, Callum should probably be sleeping in a bed."
"You're right," he replied absently, scooping the boy up in his arms and walking quickly towards the doors. Her soft voice stopped him in the entrance.
"Remus?"
"Yes?" he asked neutrally.
"Please don't ignore me," she pleaded, somehow maintaining a quiet dignity. "Promise me you'll think about what I said."
Silence stretched between them, and he honestly considered telling her no, just to give her some of the pain tearing at his thoughts each time she spoke. But no; that was something Sirius would have done, maybe even James in his younger years. It was not in Remus Lupin to do that, and his pain only increased at the image of the reproach that would have come into her warm amber eyes. "I promise," he sighed finally, and she nodded unsmilingly.
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Callum crept farther into the dungeons, every sense alert and blazing, praying that he wouldn't be seen by anyone. It wasn't that he wasn't allowed to be down there, he just didn't want to have to run and hide from any of the students. None of them knew why he was there, but that didn't mean that they were nice. Hermione had promised to let him watch her make a sleeping draught, and he'd timed it to be during a class period.
Hermione met him at the door to her chambers and led him through into Professor Snape's private lab, the use of which he'd offered his apprentice. She made him promise not to touch anything, and he even sat on his hands just in case the temptation grew too strong. It was fascinating to watch, and even without experience, he could tell that Hermione was very skilled, her movements and measurements even and precise.
When it was done, she offered to walk him back up to the infirmary, but he declined. Without anyone with him, he could run, something he was rather fond of doing.
Unfortunately, he hadn't realized how much time had passed in the dungeon. The wolf snarled a warning too late, and he fell to the ground with a stinging pain in his back. Trying to scramble to his feet, he felt a foot step firmly on his back.
"Well, well, well, what have we here," a voice drawled insultingly. "I do believe that it's the High Table pet. What are you doing all on your own down here?"
Pain bloomed in his back from the whispered hex, and the wolf howled within his mind, begging to be allowed out.
"STUPEFY!"
Vaguely aware that the pain had stopped, Callum passed mercifully into unconsciousness.
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"You're here to heal the students, Miss Weasley, not hex them."
"And the students are here to learn, Professor Snape, not torture a helpless child."
"Said child is also a werewolf, hardly harmless-
"And he's not exactly able to let that out in the corridor, now is he?"
Callum awoke slowly, trying to make sense of the words being said over him. He realized that Ginny was there, her vanilla and cinnamon scent soothing him as it always did. He could hear the billow of robes, a sound he associated almost exclusively with the thoroughly terrifying and usually cruel Potions Master. It also occurred to him that Ginny was arguing with the man, and that thought alone was enough to bring him to full alertness.
"Awake now, Callum?" Ginny asked quietly, although he hadn't yet opened his eyes.
He did so now, and the world swam a little bit before coming into sharper focus, and he fixed his gaze firmly on her face. "What happened?"
"You were attacked by a student," she answered, much more calm than she had been only a heartbeat before. "Professor Snape saved you."
"Why would he do that? He hates werewolves." He cringed at the words that, for once, came out without thought.
"I dislike Lupin," the man corrected in his dark, silky voice. "I have little care one way or the other about the species in general as long as they are kept on appropriate leashes. Besides, you are a child, and as a charge of Hogwarts am under my protection."
"I thank you, then." He blinked slowly, his mind still catching up to the events. "If you saved me, then who did Ginny hex?" To his utter astonishment, the girl blushed and looked away sheepishly.
"The boy woke before you," Snape replied smoothly. "He made a comment which seemed to cause Miss Weasley offense."
"Ginny!" Madam Pomfrey called. "A first-year got bit by the Venomous Tentacula, I'll need your help, dear."
"All right," she replied loudly. She looked back down at Callum, her cool hand lightly touching his cheek. "I'll be back in a bit, Callum. Rest." She walked quickly away, leaving him with the Potions Master. He fidgeted under the man's intense scrutiny.
"You're doing well with this," Snape said suddenly, shocking the boy. "And not just for your age. I congratulate you." Inclining his head slightly, he gracefully swept away, leaving the boy heartily confused. From everything he'd heard, Snape never complimented anyone, especially not someone he considered to be a nuisance. He shook his head and settled deeper into the blanket, staring up at the plain ceiling of the hospital wing.
Callum knew that he should have had Hermione walk him back; they'd all made him promise not to go about on his own. He sighed; he would have to make sure that he got that in right away when Remus found out, or his guardian's well-meaning lecture would seem interminable.
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The weekend came quickly, for which Callum was supremely grateful, and after waking up early as was his habit, he made the decision to have a bit of a lie-in. He was vaguely aware that he was forgetting something important, but he didn't think he'd remember it any sooner for being awake. That was what he told himself, anyway.
Remus smiled slightly at the blonde girl pacing in his living room. "Miss Sleipak, you could always wake him up," he suggested delicately.
"No," she sighed, stifling her impatience. "It's his birthday, I should let him sleep."
A quiet knock on the door drew Remus to his feet, and he opened it to admit Ginny and Hermione. Both girls nodded at Heidi, wrapped gifts held in their hands.
"I'm guessing he's not awake yet, then," Hermione surmised.
"Brilliant observation, Granger."
Ginny merely smiled and winked at Remus; he nodded, holding back a chuckle. Slytherin and Gryffindor, some things never changed.
"Ssh," he ordered suddenly, hearing movement in the second bedroom. "He's awake"
Soft footsteps came closer and the door to the bedroom opened, a sleepy-eyed, tousle-headed boy emerging. He stopped short, staring at them in confusion. "Heidi?" he asked. "What's going on?"
"Callum Raoul Sleipak, are you honestly trying to tell me you forgot your birthday?" the former student demanded with some asperity.
"Oh!" His eyes widened, and he was suddenly very much awake. "It is, isn't it?"
Remus laughed and gave the boy a one-armed hug. "Happy birthday, Callum."
Being a little boy, Callum's mind immediately turned to the most important thing about a birthday, seeing the packages sitting in a neat pyramid on the coffee table. "I have presents?"
A very short time later, Callum sat with a glowing smile amidst a pile of discarded paper and ribbon, and of course, his presents. Hermione had given him a junior potions kit, safely excluding any volatile ingredients, so he could begin to do them on his own. Ginny had given him a set of wooden pan pipes, adding in a note that said the lesson book was still on its way. Remus, rather true to form, had given him a large supply of Honeyduke's best chocolate. The best gift, though, was from his sister.
She'd gotten him a book on astronomy, which included a great deal about the moon, but it seemed she wasn't finished yet. When every other present had been opened, she pulled an envelope out of the back pocket of her jeans and handed it to him.
Mystified, he opened it and was shocked to find his mother's elegant hadnwriting.
"Dear Callum,
I can't expect you to be happy with me, nor to forgive me, but I'd never before realized how much life you brought into this house. I've missed you greatly. You come into my mind at the oddest times, and each night, I find myself almost snapping at the house elves to not forget the third setting. Your father, or course, will suffer no word of you to be said, but when you simply disappeared, I knew that your sister must have done something.
I would throw away all caution and defy your father to bring you home if I could, but Heidi tells me that you are being very well cared for and that you have a…similar companion. With that in mind, I feel it best that you remain where you are, with people who can understand what you're going through and help you with it.
I am very sorry, Callum, my dear son, and I want you to know, though you certainly should not get your hopes up, that I am going to begin a very careful, very subtle campaign against your father, one that I am determined to win. When that victory occurs, we will come to see you.
I know I may not always express it, but never forget, my son, that I love you.
Happy Birthday."
Callum looked up from the letter, tears stinging his eyes, to stare at his sister, who nodded.
"She asked me last night in the library," she verified. "When I was about to leave this morning, she asked me to give this to you."
The newly nine year old beamed and tightly embraced his sister, his mind howling with utter delight. He took heed of his mother's caution, and didn't put too much promise on the prospect, but the idea of being able to say his last name again filled him with such joy that it was hard not to hope.