Disclaimer: Anything Harry Potter-wise is JK Rowling. Not mine.
Pairing: SB/RL Slash, so be warned (again)
Warnings: some disturbing mentions of torture
Notes: Catclaw, my beta, my sweet! I put a line in just for you (see if you can spot it!)
This chapter is HUGE… almost double the usual length. But this one and the next are the vital parts of the story. Thank you to all my reviewers for commenting, and for the outpouring of love. Even the smallest comment made my day. My week is most definitely better now!This was supposed to be posted yesterday morning, but suddenly stopped allowing me to upload documents, except for really random ones. It's still kooky, but at least I got this up.
Remember: Feedback is love!
THIS CHAPTER: Remus gets an ally and a back-story, Harry gets 'the talk' (of sorts), Bill gets a cameo, and the Title of this Piece gets explained.
Chapter 7
Hope is the thing with feathers
That perches in the soul,
And sings the tune without the words,
And never stops at all,
And sweetest in the gale is heard;
And sore must be the storm
That could abash the little bird
That kept so many warm.
I've heard it in the chilliest land,
And on the strangest sea;
Yet, never, in extremity,
It asked a crumb of me.
-Emily Dickinson
Lycus Whitmer was vacationing outside a small German village in an unobtrusive cottage. It took Remus and Sirius hiking most of the day to reach it, so it was mid-afternoon when Lupin finally knocked on the door. The girl that answered was no more than twenty with large eyes and lank brown hair. Half of her face was covered in knotted scars.
"Pardon me, miss," Remus said politely. "I was looking for Lycus Whitmer?"
"Who's there, Daphne?" a coarse voice called from inside the house.
"Remus Lupin," Remus provided. At this, Daphne's eyes got wide and she opened the door further, gesturing him inside.
Remus glanced briefly around the room when he entered. It was small, but homey. Parchments filled most of the flat surfaces. An incredibly thin old man sat in an armchair by the fire, his feet soaking in a large tub of hot water. Daphne indicated that he should sit across from the man, then left towards the kitchen. Sirius made himself comfortable on the floor near the window.
"Well, well," Lycus croaked. His voice was surprisingly deep for such a small person. He looked in ill health, with sunken cheeks and sallow skin. Remus thought he'd break at the slightest touch. "We were wondering when you'd get around to calling on me."
"So you probably already know what I've come to ask you?" Remus nodded his thanks to Daphne, who had brought in a tray of tea. She poured Lycus some tea, followed by a generous amount of whiskey.
"I know what you want to ask me, and I also think I know what you want to get from me." He chuckled at Remus's raised eyebrows. "Word spreads fast among the outcasts, young cub. Don't worry. Those that you don't want knowing about you haven't heard a thing. That includes Greyback and his ilk." Lycus took a sip of his tea. "What everyone wants to know, however, is what on earth you are planning to do with these things? The most we can figure is something not quite legal."
"There are various reasons for me not to tell you the specifics, including the safety of those involved."
"Fair enough. But the Blade of Raoulan? That is asking for a bit much with no explanation." Lycus grunted and shifted in his chair. Daphne obediently added more water to the tub. "Raoulan was the closest us werewolves have to a Merlin. It is said that he killed himself upon that very blade."
"And for the very reason that I need it now," Remus interrupted. Surprise etched itself on Lycus's face. "Love. He sacrificed himself to save the one he loved." Sirius looked towards him, alarmed. "I don't aim to die, but I intend to do the saving."
"Not many know the stories of old. This person you love—not a werewolf, is she?" Lycus asked shrewdly.
"No, he's not." Remus tensed, prepared for disgust, but Lycus merely raised an eyebrow.
"Then why should I help you?"
"Because some wizards, contrary to popular belief, are worth saving."
"Ah, and now we get to the question you wish to ask me." Lycus gestured to Daphne to leave the room. He turned his entire gaze on Remus, but Remus did not flinch. "You, young cub, confound us. The packs don't understand you. You are a born alpha, anyone can see it. You are also the only one bitten at such a young age to survive so long. A few of the younger ones believe you were bitten at birth. And yet, you follow that Dumbledore fellow; you run errands for him, you recruit for him, you are his lapdog, you try to fit in with the wizards. I don't understand what he has that's so great."
Remus opened his mouth to argue, but stopped at a look from Lycus.
"I am old, Remus."
"You are the oldest living werewolf. You have the respect of all the packs."
"I won't last much longer." Lycus gazed out the window. "The full moons have begun to run together. I do not heal completely from one before the next is upon me. I am tired." He turned back to Remus. "I want to spend my remaining days writing our history. It is important to me that the true history is told to future generations, not that propaganda the Ministry serves. They should know that the Great Battle of Hanover was not a bloodthirsty werewolf rebellion, but a fight to save our own."
"A very noble cause, sir."
"Daphne and I have left our pack for a few months peace and quiet. Do you know why she is here? How she got the scars on her face? She refused the advances of some wizard," he spat. "He thought he had a right to take advantage of her. After all, she wasn't a real human. She still hasn't told me everything that happened."
"That's terrible." Remus found himself staring at the door Daphne had exited.
"I have lived through more than you could ever imagine. I saw the Purge of 1915. I was there for the Great Round-up in '40. I have survived Camp Silvan. I was the only one to leave the Saturn Rehabilitation Center alive in '52 after four months of hell during the Reforms." Lycus pulled at the collar of his robe to expose a tattoo of numbers on his collarbone. "I have seen terrible things from the wizarding world. So tell me, Remus Lupin, why should I fight for wizards? Why should I help you gather support among the packs?"
The air became heavy with tension. Remus was looking into the fire, but could feel the stares from Lycus and Sirius. Slowly, he pushed back the sleeve on his right arm. As he spoke, he waved his wand over his forearm. "Because I, too, have seen the worst wizards have to offer." Under the disillusionment charm was a tattoo of the numbers 4651259 followed by a small crescent moon. He ignored the gasp from Sirius.
Lycus leant forward and gently touched the numbers. "When?" he croaked. "I thought I had seen all the records…"
"November 1, 1981." Remus's cheeks were burning. "Someone... dear to me had been arrested for being a Death Eater—he was innocent, of course. They assumed… it was all circumstantial…" He coughed. "They thought I knew things, important information. You asked me why I follow Dumbledore so willingly. The truth is that my connection to him was the only thing that saved me. However, by the time he was able to secure my release and erase the charges on my record, it had been two years. It is also the only reason I am able to Disillusion the tattoo."
Lycus sank back into his chair. He appeared to be completely readjusting his view of Lupin. Remus purposely avoided looking in Sirius's direction. "I did not know. I am truly sorry. No one I know of has lasted longer than a year at the Saturn Center. I… gods, you must have been…"
"Near death." He rolled down his sleeve and leaned forward. "I follow Dumbledore because I believe. I have seen the worst of humanity, but I have also seen the best. Love, joy, happiness, compassion. I have found my closest friends among wizards. I have found my truest love in a wizard. For a year, I taught some of the best and brightest. Many among them dare to see a future free of prejudice and hate. I have hope for that future. This war—it is more than a fight against Voldemort and some dark wizards. It is a fight to reclaim that future, for everyone."
Remus could not think of what else to say that could possibly convey his conviction. He glanced about the room, spotting the many scrolls of history that Lycus had written.
"Do you ever wonder how you will be remembered? How history will view you?"
Lycus shrugged. "I always thought I'd be remembered simply as the oldest surviving werewolf. The only one who might remember me as more than a werewolf is my brother, and I'm not even certain if he lives. He did not speak to me much after the bite."
"Well this is your chance to make history, to be a part of it. Together, we can change how the world views us. Even if it takes generations, the change will start now, with us. We can be accepted again. We can be respected, like Raoulan and his court was. However, now is the time to take action."
Lycus remained silent. He was staring at Remus like he'd never seen anything like him before. At some point, Sirius had changed into Padfoot and was resting his muzzle on Remus's armrest.
"You are not just a lapdog for a bumbling old man, are you Remus Lupin? Daphne!" Lycus suddenly shouted. Padfoot jumped. "Daphne, come here, girl." The old man shoved himself out of his chair and stepped out of the basin. Before Remus could react, he had kneeled shaking at Remus's feet. Daphne had rushed into the room and was staring at him.
"Old one, no! Please, sit back down." Remus tried to pull the thin man up.
"No. I want to do this traditionally. It has to be done right." Lycus placed one of Remus's hands on his balding head and tilted his head back to expose his throat more. "I understand now. You do not want to become leader by force or strength like Greyback. You wish to truly lead us, even if it means following a wizard. I have been waiting for someone who believes as strongly as you do."
"Grandfather, please! You're straining yourself!" Daphne finally found her voice.
"Hush, child." Lycus looked Remus directly in the eye. "I swear to follow you to the pits of hell if need be. I believe that you will lead us into greatness." Unsteadily he got back to his feet. "Daphne, start packing our things. We have some people to visit."
Remus sagged with relief. "You will not regret this, sir."
"Lycus, please." He winked. "I feel almost half my age."
Padfoot and Remus left the two werewolves to do their packing. On the path leading to their campsite, Sirius finally transformed back. They walked for several minutes in silence, though Remus felt Sirius's scrutinizing gaze.
"You didn't get the knife."
"I know." Remus kicked a stone on the path. "But I gained a valuable ally for the Order. Lycus Whitmer is well respected among the werewolves. He will spread the word, and many will listen. He will be my voice in the packs, in places where I would have trouble visiting. I had planned on calling on him eventually. The knife was just a convenient excuse. I can find a way to work the spell around it."
Sirius stared sullenly ahead. Before he could talk again, they were hailed from behind. Daphne, slightly out of breath from running, caught up to them. She thrust a hastily wrapped object at Remus.
"He said—he said," she panted, "that if you are as passionate about the one you love as you are about the war, then it will be put to good use."
Peering into the wrapping, Remus saw an old knife with strange symbols etched along its blade. "I do not know how to repay him… Send him my thanks." He turned to continue walking, but Daphne's voice stopped him again.
"I—I don't mean to pry—but, you said he was a wizard. The one you're trying to save. The one that—loves you." She could not meet his eyes and fiddled with her fingers.
"Yes, he is."
"And you're magic, too? It's just—I was wondering—I was bitten just before I could get my letter, and—" She blushed.
"Yes. I was fortunate to be trained at Hogwarts." He imagined her without the scars, with rosy cheeks and bright eyes. There was a humble beauty that many would find attractive. Gently he placed his hand under her chin and lifted her face up. He ignored her flinch. "Daphne, whatever he did to you was wrong and inexcusable. Magic should be for healing and protecting."
"I want to learn that magic… I want to meet wizards that see werewolves as people that can be loved." The longing in her voice was practically tangible.
"In a few months, if everything works out and my spell doesn't backfire, I will find you. There are some people I would like you to meet."
"Thank you," she breathed. In an echo of Lycus's earlier actions, Daphne placed Remus's hand on her head. "Thank you." She abruptly turned and ran back towards the cottage.
Once she was out of sight, Remus started walking again. Sirius kept glancing at him. "Later, Padfoot."
The campsite was quiet that night. Remus had packed up what few belongings he had in preparation for their next journey. They would be headed into the mountains of Switzerland for the final ingredient, powdered graphorn horns. Although they were available in stores, Remus wanted it fresh, preferably from a female. He had found an Epiphany flower earlier that he thought Hermione might be interested in, and decided to drop it off at Grimmauld with the Blade of Raoulan before they tried for the graphorn. Sirius watched him pack with interest.
"Why do you bother getting things for them? I mean, I like them and all, but you could sell some of this stuff for a good bit of money."
"If money were the most important thing in this world, Padfoot, I would have failed at life long ago." He closed his rucksack. "Besides, I remember what summer holidays are like. I think it's a good thing to keep them stimulated during the long break, maybe even get them interested in new things. And, perhaps, having people on good terms with me right now is a good thing."
Sirius was sitting a few feet from Remus, staring into the fire. "Why didn't you tell me about the Center?" His voice was forcibly neutral.
"I told you why before. You didn't want to hear it." Remus sighed. "You were trying to recover from all those years in Azkaban. You didn't need to hear it."
"I want to know now. Please." Sirius stood up and walked over to where he was sitting. He sat facing Remus and placed a hand on his knee. "We can't have any secrets anymore. Remember what happened last time?"
"I'll tell you on one condition." He looked stubbornly at his lap. "You are not to blame yourself, for any of it."
Sirius hesitated. "I'll try."
Remus did not start talking for a few moments. He listened to the crackling of the fire and Sirius's steady breathing. Closing his eyes, he felt the warming presence of the animagus and reminded himself that he wasn't there anymore; he was with Sirius in Germany. He had Harry, and the Order. "It was like I told Lycus. It happened on the first of November. I was on an assignment, remember? I remember hearing all the celebrations, and a rumor that Voldemort was dead, killed by Harry Potter. I thought that it was impossible—James and Lily were in hiding, he couldn't have found them. Somehow I found my way back to the flat. James and Lily—I found out that they were dead from the Daily Prophet. All of the celebration and no one thought to inform me."
"Didn't Dumbledore or someone from the Order come to comfort you?"
Remus smiled ruefully. "Dumbledore was concerned about getting Harry to a safe location. Everyone else—well, I don't know what they were doing. I didn't go to sleep. I couldn't. And you weren't there. I just lay in bed, praying that you would come back any second and tell me it was a big cover-up, that James and Lily were still alive. I don't know how long I stayed like that. At some point, they came. I think they broke down the door.
They were shouting, but I couldn't understand any of it. I was so confused and tired and distressed, and you weren't there… I think they mentioned something about you, which confused me even more. The next thing I remember is being in an interrogation room at the Center. That's where I learned what happened—between you and Peter. I was so shocked, I just wanted to crawl into a corner and weep. But they didn't let me. They kept asking all these questions that I didn't have the answer to. They thought that since I was a Dark Creature, I had some hand in what you did.
When they weren't answered satisfactorily, they were angry. They had taken my wand earlier, but then they took my robes, they even shaved my head. They poked and prodded, trying to find out my secrets. I remember potions—and someone had a knife. I don't know how long that lasted, but they put me in a cell. For several days it was a cycle of solitary confinement and torture.
My memory is blurred at that point. I remember some of the interrogation sessions, and some of the other prisoners. They called it a Rehabilitation Center—I'd love to know what they were curing us of. After a while, even they forgot why I was in there. They stopped asking questions. But they kept experimenting—they kept using potions and whips and beaters… and the spells—Merlin the spells—there should be more than three Unforgivables. I remember just wanting to wake up.
Dumbledore told me later that he found me in my cell curled up and nearly dead. He took me out of there—but had to put me in St. Mungo's for treatment. It took another year to fully recover. Dumbledore said it was mostly a broken mind they were trying to fix. Perhaps that is why he thinks I'm crazy now—perhaps I had a relapse.
When I was well enough, I asked about Harry. I wanted to see him. But Dumbledore told me that in my condition, it was probably better for everyone if I stayed away. That is one of my few regrets. I should have fought harder to see him. Instead, I accepted what Dumbledore said as truth. When I asked about you, he told me what they had as evidence against you. That is another regret I have—I did not question any of it. I spent the next few years traveling, trying to forget what happened, instead of finding out what actually occurred."
Remus turned his head away from the fire, his eyes watering from more than the bright flames. He could no longer speak over the lump in his throat, and he was highly aware of his shaky breaths. I will not cry, he thought. Padfoot was in Azkaban; he's been through worse.
All of Remus's self control broke when Sirius gently took his arm and placed a kiss where the tattoo was carved into his skin. "It's okay, love. Let it all out."
Remus found himself quietly crying in Sirius's arms.
Once he had calmed enough to hear, Sirius began to speak. "You tell me not to blame myself for this. You told Harry that he was not at fault for James and Lily." He drew his fingers through Remus's hair, a calming effect he had used since Hogwarts. "However, you can't find it in yourself to see that it's not your fault either. What a group we make."
Remus gave a wet chuckle.
"It drives me insane sometimes how you can give comfort but refuse to receive any. That girl—Daphne—she experienced something awful and horrifying. And yet, you are able to offer her so much hope and peace with just a few words."
"She should not have had to go through that."
"And you should not have had to go through your ordeal. You need to know that, Moony." Sirius chuckled slightly. "I feel a bit hypocritical, but you were a victim. You should not blame yourself for anything—not the Dursleys and not Azkaban."
"But I could have been stronger. So much could have been avoided if I had just asked more questions."
"And everything would be different if I had just told someone about Wormtail." Sirius pulled Remus even closer. "I promise to try to let it go, if you do the same." He rubbed Remus's arms. "Just let it go."
Three days before Harry's birthday found him lounging in a library with Ron and Ginny watching Hermione research more on creating new spells. Fred and George were visiting Grimmauld for the day to "investigate and explore the possible uses of Jumpepper beans" and were currently hovering over a very large and very dusty book in the corner of the room. It all sounded rather ominous to Harry, who knew when his not-so-voluntary services as a tester would soon be needed. He was interrupted from a nice doze when Tonks unexpectedly burst into the room, followed shortly by Bill.
"I don't think it's all coincidental," she argued. Bill merely raised an eyebrow. "It doesn't make sense for Remus to—to fall ill—just as he's about to make a move on Greyback." She stormed to a nearby table and grabbed the book sitting there.
"You really think there's some curse behind this?" Bill sat down next to Hermione.
"Yes," she snapped and held the book aloft. "And I'm going to find out what. Besides, Charlie wrote that there's been sudden activity in central Europe."
Fred and George's heads popped up. "You've been writing to Charlie, then?" Fred asked.
"Seems to me our ikkle Nymphie-dora has a crush…" George continued.
"On our dear big brother."
"Who'd've thought?"
"Look, she's blushing!" Ron laughed. Even Ginny was giggling.
"Charlie just wanted to thank me for the gloves I sent," Tonks stammered. "He mentioned he had burned his last pair…"
"So what do you say, Tonks?" Fred and George gathered around Tonks. "Give us all the sordid…"
"Scandalous…"
"Shocking details?"
Hermione shut her book with more force than necessary. "I think you should leave her alone! It's not polite to make fun of people's crushes."
"Well then! Does the lovely Hermione have her own special someone?" Fred laughed as Ron's ears went a bright shade of red.
"I will not dignify that with an answer," Hermione huffed. Her cheeks were rather rosy, however. "Would you like to join me for some tea, Tonks? Like civilized people?"
"Certainly," Tonks replied with relief. As she and Hermione left the room, however, Fred, George, Ron, and Ginny followed close behind.
"Oh, come on, Hermione! Do tell?" Fred's queries faded into the distance. Harry was too pleasantly sleepy to follow them downstairs, so he remained laying on the couch. Bill was the only other person left in the room. A comfortable silence fell. It wasn't that Harry didn't want to talk to him, it was just that he didn't know what to talk about.
"You alright, Harry?" Bill asked. He was flipping through one of Hermione's discarded books.
"Mmhmm," Harry mumbled. "I don't much feel like tea at the moment."
"Suit yourself."
He wasn't sure what prompted him to say it, but suddenly Harry found himself blurting, "Does falling in love always make you so—I dunno—awkward?"
"Are you talking about Tonks and Charlie?"
"Yes… and I rather suspect Ron fancies Hermione." It felt good to talk to someone about his suspicions concerning his friends.
"Ah, yes. The blushing, fumbling stage. I used to be the same way."
Harry raised and eyebrow. It was hard to imagine cool, collected Bill flustered about anything.
"Really. Some of us are able to grow out of it and move on to pure mortification and uncontrollable rambling." Bill smiled. "Do you have someone you fancy?" he asked, more gentle than Fred and George's earlier inquisition.
"Maybe." Harry thought of Cho and the squirming he got in his stomach when he saw her. Then he remembered her crying constantly. Time to move on, perhaps, he thought.
"So who's the lucky gal? Or is it a guy?"
Harry abruptly sat up. A book that had been balancing unevenly on the top of the couch was jostled and fell onto his head. "Guy?" he spluttered.
"Oh, come on, Harry." Bill sighed. "I know that some of the older wizards and witches are a bit more conservative in mentioning such things, but you've certainly heard it before…" Harry mutely shook his head. Bill sighed again. "You haven't."
"I didn't—Uncle Vernon said something once, completely nasty of course—and I don't think…" He paused for a breath. "Is it a bad thing? In the wizarding world?"
"Harry," Bill chuckled. "If the wizarding world can deal with a man and a giantess—granted, with a bit of disdain—and see nothing out of the ordinary with marrying a second cousin, homosexuality doesn't really raise the alarm."
"But you just said it wasn't mentioned."
"Yes, I did. For a long time it was something under the 'Don't ask, don't tell' philosophy. We've tried for centuries to keep our existence from Muggles, to blend in. And, up until recently, homosexuality was looked down upon in their society. So we kept it secret. Due to this tradition, some older couples still don't even let their acquaintances know about them, and many witches and wizards don't look too closely for it."
"And now?"
"Now—well, let's just say that it's almost a desire, the ability to stand out in some way. To be perfectly normal is to be abnormal."
"Oh." Harry lay back down, this time mulling over everything Bill had said. Bill continued to skim through books, apparently content just to browse through the library. It wasn't long before Harry decided that Bill was just the person to ask a question he'd been holding in for weeks. "Do you think—do you think that if a person…is really close to someone, and then loses that person—do you think that they will ever get over it?"
Bill walked over to the couch and perched on the armrest by Harry's feet. "Are you talking about losing Sirius?" he asked gently.
"Yes—he…" Harry stuttered. "I really cared for him, you know? And I was sad when he—died, but I was mostly just angry. Angry that he left."
"And now?"
"I've kinda stopped being angry. Mostly I'm just sad now. And I think—I think that it won't ever stop hurting, but I'm slowly starting to stop being sad, too. Is that bad?"
"Usually it doesn't stop hurting. You'll always miss him." Bill paused. "And you stop being sad because you find hope, however small. You hope that they are at peace, and that wherever they are, they are waiting for you. You have hope that you'll see them again someday."
"But what about Remus?"
"What about him?"
"Do you think he's lost it? Do you think he's so full of grief that he's gone insane?" Harry waited anxiously for the answer.
Bill took a moment to think. "I don't know Lupin that well. We've only talked about Order things before." He took a deep breath. "I'm not sure what's wrong with him, but I don't think that he was driven to it solely by grief. Harry," Bill continued, "no one can compare one man's grief to another's. We all love differently, we all grieve differently. Remus Lupin loved Sirius in his own way. You should never feel less about yourself because you got angry over Sirius's death or because you haven't lost touch with reality. You need to find your own peace, and let Lupin find his."
Harry could not respond to that, so he merely nodded. Bill stood up and ruffled his hair. Without another word, he exited the library and left Harry to his thoughts. For several hours, Harry tried to figure out exactly what he felt concerning Sirius's death and Remus's apparent insanity.
Hours turned into days until Harry woke up one morning to the realization that he was sixteen. To be more accurate, Harry woke up to Ron telling him, "Happy Birthday!" repeatedly, and at the top of his lungs. Grimmauld Place was a flurry of activity as Mrs. Weasley directed most likely the largest birthday party he had ever had. Harry thought that perhaps she was trying to distract him from recent events. Unfortunately, even with the merriment surrounding him, Harry could not help but wish that Sirius and Remus were there to help him celebrate.
Mrs. Weasley had taken the time to decorate both the kitchen and the first floor drawing room. She explained that one room was for the feast, and the other for opening the presents. Harry chose not to mention that he would not have that many presents to open to begin with. However, true to Mrs. Weasley's words, there was a marvelous feast. Besides Hermione and the Weasley's (including Bill and the twins), the party contained Mad-Eye, Tonks, Kingsley, Mundungus Fletcher, and—surprisingly—Professor McGonagall. She claimed to be stopping by purely for Order business, but Harry did not miss seeing her slip a bag of candy onto the pile of presents before she left.
The food was perhaps the best Harry had ever had outside of Hogwarts. Somehow Mrs. Weasley knew all of his favorite meals, and decided to cook them all at once. From breakfast to early afternoon, they ate and talked cheerfully at the heavily laden table. They were all about to head to the drawing room, when the fireplace burst into green flames and Remus Lupin tumbled into the kitchen.
Remus knew he was in dire straights when the kitchen at Grimmauld swayed dangerously in his vision. He saw the piles of food, and all of the people, before he collapsed on the floor. People were rushing all around him, shouting out instructions and trying to move him. Someone was wiping at his right arm with a towel. What's wrong with my arm? he thought. A quick glance showed a rather nasty gash running down its length, and a disturbing amount of blood dripping from it. Oh yes, I remember.
Finding the female graphorn that fit his qualifications was easy. Getting a bit of her horn was not.
He tried to push himself up from the floor—When did I get there?—and towards the doorway. Harry was suddenly in front of him, trying to get him into one of the kitchen chairs.
"'Ello, Harry. Happy Birdday." Remus frowned at his tongue. It was far too heavy and slurred his speech.
He found himself looking into the eyes of Professor Dumbledore, who waved his wand at his arm. The pain that Remus had not noticed before started to recede.
"Let's get him to St. Mungo's. Come on, Remus. We have to go now."
Go? But I just got here... "NO! I have—I have to go upstairs—upstairs." He held out the vial of powdered graphorn. Can't they see? "The spell—upstairs!" Kingsley grabbed him as he tried to run for the doorway. The vial dropped to the floor with a loud clunk. Harry bent to retrieve it. "No—I need to—almost done, almost finished…" His head was getting dizzy from blood loss.
"Someone grab his legs!" Kingsley shouted.
How did I end up on the floor again? Remus kept struggling against the people holding him down. He thought his foot connected with one of the twin's stomach, but couldn't be certain. Sirius kept trying to push people off of him, but walked right through everyone. "Sirius—the spell!"
As more and more hands began to hold him down, it became harder to move even an inch. The last thing Remus heard was Dumbledore's voice. "Stupify!"
Blackness surrounded him, smothered him, embraced him. As he opened his mouth to scream, it poured down his throat and pooled thickly in his stomach. Shadows passed in and out of his vision. He thought he heard whispers but they dissipated as soon as he concentrated on them. His entire body was weighed down. He could barely move his arms. Finally he was able to make out words. It's a clear case of psychological break down. He stretched his arms out as far as he could, searching for something, anything, but met only air. We were able to reverse the blood loss. He should be physically healthy in a few hours. Where was he? Where was Sirius? We do recommend, however, an extended stay to analyze his mental capabilities. Ignore the voices and keep moving. Fight the heaviness of limbs. What happened to Harry? He's a monster…only a man, nothing more…an abomination… so sorry… A dose of this, Lupin, and all of your troubles will be over.Sharp pain, fire burning up his arm into his skull. Blackness closing in.
With a gasp Remus woke. His arms were chained to a bed. He could smell pain, and despair, and fellow werewolves. There was no more pain in his arm, but the dizziness had not abated.
A face loomed over his. Crooked teeth and a crooked nose, surrounded by the palest of skin and thin, brown hair. The mouth curved into a smirk. But the eyes—the eyes were deep and hard. Remus recognized those eyes. No, he thought desperately. Wake up!
A voice, as cold as the eyes, echoing through his head. "Hello, number 4651259. Is there anything you want to tell me today?"
Wake up…
Harry wasn't quite sure what to expect when he arrived at the hospital. He had been there once before, when Mr. Weasley was recuperating from the attack last winter. It was eerie walking through the halls in his present company. It was like they were on the way to a funeral, not to visit a dear friend. McGonagall led the way at a brisk walk. The Weasleys, Harry, and Hermione followed, each silent in their own thoughts. Tonks and Moody kept at the rear, a grim honor guard of sorts. After several twists and turns, they arrived at the Holloway ward for Special Cases, Healer-in-Charge: Janus Malific.
The ward had none of the forced cheerfulness or healing atmosphere of the rest of the hospital. There were perhaps ten occupants; some were sitting quietly on their beds, staring listlessly at the newcomers, while others were closed off behind curtains. A door on the left side of the room led to offices while a door to the right entered a laboratory full of ominously smoking cauldrons. And there, in the bed furthest from the entrance, staring at the only window, was Remus.
As Harry approached the bed of his former professor, new-found confidant, and surrogate godfather, his heart broke. Remus's arms and legs were chained to the bed. The wound on his right arm was sloppily bandaged. When Remus finally turned to look at his visitors, his eyes were unfocused and lifeless. Ginny, Hermione, Ron and Harry gathered around his bed.
"Hello, Professor," Hermione said softly.
Remus stared quizzically at her for a few seconds. "Hermione Granger, third year Gryffindor, 105 average." Hermione stifled a sob and looked down at her feet.
"It's us, Remus," Harry said. "We came to visit."
"Oh, hello." His eyes focused slightly. "You shouldn't be here. It's not a very heartening place." His voice was distant.
"We had to see you!" Ron insisted. "They just whisked you off without so much as a 'He'll be okay.'"
"I'm sorry I interrupted your party, Harry." Remus smiled slightly. "I had a rather bad encounter with a graphorn. Happy birthday."
"Thanks." They remained quiet for a few minutes. McGonagall walked towards the offices to talk to a Healer. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley waved to Lupin, and then went outside the ward to wait with Mad-Eye and Tonks.
A broad witch with brown hair that Harry thought he recognized bustled up. "Good afternoon, Mr. Lupin. I see you have visitors, so I'll just be a minute." She flipped through the chart lying on the bedside table. "My name's Florence Dulaney, and I'll be your new Healer. I was transferred from Spell Damage this morning." Harry thought he saw her wink at him.
"Oh!" He suddenly remembered where he'd seen her before. "Order," he mouthed to the others.
Dulaney read through the papers quickly, a slight frown forming on her forehead. "I have to go check on the other patients, but I'll stop by every so often." A quick smile to everyone, and she walked away. They were left alone with Remus.
"They're all saying you're crazy. They say you aren't connected to reality anymore," Ginny stated bluntly.
Remus snorted. "I bet 'they' didn't want you to see me."
"No. We had to beg and plead to get here," Hermione said darkly.
"They probably don't want you getting any ideas." Remus turned his gaze back on the window. "Sirius thinks I should explain everything, but I don't think that'll help my case any." Harry and the others shifted uncomfortably. "So, did you get anything interesting for your birthday, Harry?"
"Ron got me a book on Quidditch tactics—he figures I'll be captain next year."
"Captain?" Remus looked directly at Harry for the first time. His gaze was unnerving. "Well, you've got a lot of work ahead of you. I hear the Gryffindor Keeper is terrible."
Ginny and Hermione giggled. Ron glared at Lupin until he realized he was being teased. Harry was just glad that his sense of humor was still there. They were still laughing quietly when Remus suddenly tensed. He was staring somewhere beyond them and began to whimper.
"Professor Lupin?" Hermione queried. She lent forward to touch his arm.
"No—please don't…" Remus began to shake.
"Remus?" Harry tried.
Lupin began to shake his head as he pleading got louder. "Get away! I didn't do anything wrong… Please! What about Harry? What happened to the baby?" He began to shout and pull at his restraints. "Let me go! Someone help…"
Harry and the others backed away from the bed. Dulaney and the Healer McGonagall was talking to rushed forward and held him down. The Healer—Malific, Harry guessed—injected a bright purple potion into Remus's arm while Dulaney forced another potion down his throat. Dulaney was watching Malific very closely. Harry nodded to Ginny, Ron, and Hermione. At his cue, they wandered away from Remus's bedside as if waiting for the potions to take affect. He took another step backwards, but jumped when a hand suddenly landed on his shoulder.
When he turned around, Harry came face to face with a haggard looking man in his fifties. His eyes were slightly wild, but alert. Thinning grey hair lay unkempt on his head and a poor attempt at a beard covered the bottom of his face. He was one of the patients closed off from the rest of the ward by a privacy curtain.
"Sneaking about, young master?" His tone was reprimanding, but he gave a friendly smile.
"I'm just waiting for the Healers to finish." Harry saw Ginny and Ron stroll into the hallway with the offices. He could've sworn that McGonagall saw them, but she quickly struck up a conversation with the guard Harry had just noticed in the room.
"Sure thing." The man looked over at Lupin with concern.
"What are you in here for?" Harry could see nothing wrong with him except his arm was in a sling.
"Broke my arm." The man chuckled at Harry's surprised look. "Haven't you figured out what 'Special Cases' means?" Harry shook his head. "It's the ward where werewolves and other 'undesirables' are treated. Can't have the innocent citizenry exposed to us."
"But I saw a werewolf over at the Serious Bites…" Harry trailed off trying to remember the details of last Christmas.
"Must've just been bit. After a fellow's first full moon, he gets chucked over here. They've been enforcing that more lately."
Harry looked closer at the man. He appeared to have been in the hospital several days. "Doesn't a broken arm only take a second to fix?"
"Sure. But I have to stay for 'observation'." He smiled glumly. "They want to make sure I didn't break it doing anything dangerous to the public. Name's Horton Steadfast, werewolf for ten years. You can just call me Hal."
Harry shook his hand. Hal looked pleased that he didn't recoil from touching a 'special case'. From his angle, Harry could just make out Hermione engaging in conversation with the guard and McGonagall. The Healers were still monitoring Remus.
"Is it true, then?" Hal interrupted his thoughts. The other werewolves in the ward were eavesdropping and making no effort to hide it.
"What's true?" Harry impulsively brushed his hair over his scar.
"Is that man there—is that Remus Lupin?" Lupin's name was said with a whispered reverence.
"Do you know him?"
"By name only." Hal gave a low whistle. "Can't be good, having him in here."
"What do you mean?" Harry looked between Remus and Hal.
"Well, that man there is probably the last hope for us werewolves. He's the leading resistance to Greyback and his gang." Harry still felt confused. "There are very few of us attempting to live within wizarding society. The rest are with Greyback, and support complete separation from the Ministry. Unfortunately, some of them are rather violent about it and give the rest of us a bad reputation."
"How does Remus fit in?"
"He's working his way through the packs, persuading people to give wizards a chance—or at least fight for the Light. It's going to lead to a civil war, I tell you."
Harry remembered all of the speculation about Remus's missions. Everything began to fall into place.
"And it's not just werewolves. Other Dark Creatures'll be affected." Hal frowned. "But if it gets out that Lupin ain't all there in the head, the entire thing'll crumble to pieces."
Dread began to fill Harry's body. "I don't think he's crazy. He's going to be fine." He said this with a bit more conviction than he really felt. Hal peered intently at him.
"Well, I'm beginning to think Lupin's right to have a bit of faith in other wizards." He glanced behind Harry. "Your friends are done 'waiting', and I think Lupin's good to talk now. It was nice meeting you…"
"Harry Potter."
Hal's gaze intensified and the smallest of smiles graced his face. "Harry Potter." Without another word, Hal closed the curtains with a snap and left Harry standing alone. As he made his way towards Remus's bed—where the Healers had, indeed, finished up—determination swelled in his chest. He now knew it was even more important to fix things.
Remus was calm again, but the vacant expression had gotten worse. Hermione, Ron, and Ginny were standing stiffly by the bed. McGonagall indicated that their time was almost up. Harry cleared his throat, which got Lupin looking in his direction.
"We're going to be leaving soon."
"Leaving?" Remus asked confusedly. "Don't you want to stay for tea?"
"Maybe not today, Professor, but soon," Ginny consoled.
Harry lightly touched his shoulder. "Healer Dulaney's looking after you. You'll be back home before you know it."
"I'm not crazy." Remus suddenly seemed focused and alert. He looked at each of them in turn. "You believe me don't you?" he pleaded. "I'm not loony. Sirius isn't a figment of my imagination."
"Umm—" Harry shifted from foot to foot. The others were looking at the floor. Finally, Harry looked Lupin right in the eyes. "I believe that you believe." Remus seemed a little comforted by this.
The Healer McGonagall was talking to approached them. His name tag said he was, as Harry thought, Healer-in-Charge Janus Malific. Malific's dark hair was slicked back in an attempt to appear well-groomed, but instead looked slightly greasy. His otherwise fine features were marred by a bad case of acne.
"I'm afraid it's time for you to go. Visiting hours are over for this ward." Malific's voice was dry and reedy, and his tone was a bit too condescending for Harry's liking.
"Can we at least say good-bye?" Ginny put on her best pleading look.
Malific gave a long-suffering sigh. "I suppose you can. I doubt he'll understand you, though. His medication is starting to take effect."
When Malific remained standing where he was, staring suspiciously at them, Hermione gave a little cough and stepped forward. She leant down to place a kiss on Remus's cheek, paused for a fraction of a second, and turned to leave. Lupin's eyes widened slightly. Ginny repeated Hermione's actions and left, but not before sending a glare at Malific.
Ron paused at the side of the bed, uncertain what to say. Finally, he took Lupin's left hand in his and shook it slightly, smiled a bit, and turned away. Malific raised an eyebrow at Harry and began to tap his foot. Harry grasped Remus's right hand and held it. Remus looked quizzically at him.
"I have hope, Remus," Harry whispered, "and that's good enough."
Harry walked to the exit of the ward, where he joined up with the Weasleys, Tonks, and Moody. As he left the hospital, he put his hand in his now empty pocket.