Chapter 3: Pearl White to Red Shadows
A/N: Like Harry and Tonks, anyone else besides Remus will be told about in third person. Almost as if Remus is writing about it.
If I had been anyone else, I would have lost track of time. However, werewolves, feeling the pull of the moon know where it is and therefore what time of day it is and what time of the lunar calendar it is. Two days after my "meeting" with Fenrir would be full moon.
It was on that last day that fear settled in my stomach, causing me to feel no longer hungry (as I hadn't been fed at all for those two days) but as full as if I had eaten too much and needed to retch. Grinding my teeth together, I forced down the bile surging desperately up my throat.
I was sitting in the darkest corner of the small, dirt prison. I leaned my head back against the wall in defeat, straining to remain calm and tracing my index finger in the dirt of the floor, just for the normalcy of it. In a few hours, I would be in the Clearing. The other werewolves would be gathered around, waiting for the fight with gruesome, cruel anticipation. I would be a wolf, waiting in the middle for my pack leader, waiting for my exile and, most likely, my death.
I shivered. Instinctively, I would do nothing. I would let my loyalty and instincts towards my pack leader take over my mind and body and I would let him kill me. I would hardly even fight back. Even if I did, he would destroy me. Just like everyone else he had challenged.
Just then, the door opened revealing a man standing before a background showing the city, lanterns causing the scene to glow with an eerie red. Red. Like blood. I gulped and began walking, the man following, watching me carefully. Through the tunnel into the Hall, and then down the path leading to the Clearing. The guard pushed me roughly into the middle of the circle of Fenrir's followers, all half-hidden in the shadows of the trees surrounding the circle of dusky, dewy grass.
Out of the shadows directly in front of me came one of my worst nightmares. Fenrir Greyback appeared, the guard pushed me painfully to my knees. Fenrir walked steadily over, squatting in front of me, glinting knife in his hand.
"Ever been poisoned by silver, traitor?" My eyes widened as he realized what the knife was. Fenrir brought his arm up, ready to strike. I had only seconds to register the movement before I screamed in pain. Eyes closed tightly, I screamed. Pain lengthened by my transformation, screams turning to howls and yelps and the laughter of others turning to howls of joy.
"Where could he be?" Tonks looked around frantically for any sign of Remus, "Why would he just leave?" Harry stood by grimly, watching Tonks' progress as she shuffled through papers on the kitchen table. Suddenly, Tonks turned to him, grabbing the front of his T-shirt.
"Harry! Help me! Don't you get it? He could be anywhere, and the full moon is in two days! He's been gone since yesterday; he needs his potion! He needs to be found!"
"Tonks, you need to relax. We won't find him if you're panicked."
"Don't you dare start sounding like auror training!" She shrieked, "Don't you understand, I love him! This is not time to be 'rational'" She paused. Harry looked at her calmly, smiling slightly, "Oh, you're right." Tonks released Harry, slumping into a chair, looking completely defeated.
"We should contact McGonagall. If it's for the order, she'll know." Harry said.
Professor McGonagall had been appointed as temporary head of the Order as well as the new Headmistress of Hogwarts with Snape as Deputy Headmaster. Most members of the Order were ready to keep McGonagall as their leader. Who else had been close enough to Dumbledore to take his place? Others wanted Harry, but Harry had made sure that their hopes were quickly squashed, he had only just joined. Besides, he hated leading people. He got enough attention already.
Tonks nodded, picked up a pinch of floo powder, threw it in the fire, inserted her head and shouted, "McGonagall, Hogwarts."
The night passed in a seemingly endless whirl of pain, howling and yelping. Slashing, bleeding, biting, snarling. It was all the wolf could seem to remember. But attacking his pack leader, his natural superior, would feel like tearing himself apart at the seams. It just couldn't be done. But at the same time, that annoying nagging voice was urging him to fight back, to preserve his life, feebly bringing up flashes of memories; of people and places to live for.
The wolf tried to run out of the circle of pack-mates, but no matter where he tried to escape from, it was no use. Even if a hole in the circle of wolves appeared, the whole clearing was encircled with wolfsbane. Suddenly, he felt a slash against his back. Not knowing who it was, he fought back. But he stopped quickly; it was his leader. He kept his head down, begging for forgiveness, but it did no good.
Finally, he couldn't take it, he swiped frantically at the leader. Now he couldn't stop. Silver was coursing through his veins, intoxicating his blood. With that one attack, he had given the nagging voice what it had wanted and it became more persistent. Confused, the wolf staggered, running toward his pack-leader only to stumble back just as quickly.
Then, in the middle of the confusion, something in his mind snapped, desperate for any solution, any way to get away from it all, the wolf bashed his head against the nearest tree. Dazed and unfocused, the wolf slumped. He looked up at the pearly white orb in the sky and howled. And with that he was unconscious.
Minerva was alarmed to see her fire suddenly turn green, but even more surprised when it was young Nymphadora's face she saw floating in the flames.
"Dora?" Minerva had refused to call Nymphadora by her last name while Nymphadora had refused to be called by her first name. Somehow, they had discovered the compromise of a nickname they could both agree on: Dora.
"Minerva. Remus is missing. Neither Harry or I know what happened to him or where he is." Dora said quickly, sounding fearful, eyes glittering with unshed tears.
"When did this happen?" Minerva demanded sharply, heart beating frantically.
"Yesterday. He's been gone since yesterday afternoon, or at least that's when we discovered he was gone."
I woke up, opening my eyes immediately, regretting it for both the blast of sunlight and the pain that throwing an arm up to try and block it caused.
"Good morning, little one." A voice whispered near, "How do you feel?" It wasn't until then that I realized my head was in someone's lap. Fenrir! My eyes widened as I struggled for freedom.
"Not quite yet, pup." He said, pulling me back down, smoothing my hair back, "It'll all be over soon, and then you'll be free. At this very moment, the silver is working it poison through your body. And soon, you'll be dead. But first, I have a little secret. Children. I need more children to raise into an army. Raids are being planned to slaughter parents and bring back children. And you'll be the only one who knows. Shame it won't matter once you're dead."
I groaned, face white. "Good-bye Remus Lupin." Fenrir left, dumping my aching body unceremoniously off his lap.
As he treaded the bloodstained ground, clouds of red dust clouded around him. He breathed in the musky smell of the remains of his victims, relishing the taste of the bloodstained air. He grinned, showing teeth filed to a point and dripping with blood. Last night had been a good transformation. Very good, indeed. Fenrir almost wished it hadn't ended.
He looked around at the debris and decay. The other's of his pack where sitting and talking together. Content and relishing in their comfort, some still feasting. Fenrir gazed around at the plain houses of the muggle/ wizarding town. Bodies lay everywhere; women, men. Dead. Children where crying, people were dying. It was Fenrir's fault. And he loved it.