chapter 1 Cry Wolf
Lupin Cottage...
'He's around five, I...yes.' Delilah Lupin paced restlessly across her kitchen floor, her eyes darting to the back door every so often. 'If I knew where he was, I wouldn't be calling you, would I?' She stopped mid conversation, startled at the sudden noise of the door opening and closing shut.
She whirled around quickly - her heart beating holes through her chest - and the telephone clattered to the floor, as her mind registered the sight before her.
'Del...' choked out her husband, John Lupin, his hand slipping from the doorknob.
Delilah watched him fall to the ground, whether in exhaustion, or grief, she couldn't tell. Her eyes
travelled across his shirt, once a pale green, but now stained a deep red. Blood...and it wasn't his. 'Del...I'm so sorry.' He was breathing heavily now, panting, trying to hold back tears, and failing
miserably.
God, no. Please, no. Not now, not when everything's so perfect. Her eyes finally settled on the small figure clutched tightly in his arms. It seemed immobile, a small, inanimate object, but it wasn't. She could recognise that honey brown mop of hair anywhere, and hadn't she had trouble getting him into those blue pyjamas just a few hours ago?
'John...is he?' She couldn't say it. No mother could.
John shook his head vigorously, and Del found herself falling to her knees, tears of relief flooding through. He was alive. Her baby was alive and that was all that mattered.
'But, Del...he's- it's all my fault- and I-'
Del put a silencing hand on his shoulder, trying to compose herself at the same time. John was beside himself with remorse and guilt and it was up to her to be strong. 'We need to get him to a doctor, John. He's bleeding.'
Uncertainty flickered in his eyes, but it was gone just as fast as it had come. He tightened his hold on the small boy in his arms and tried to push away the fear building up in his chest. He needed to concentrate. The apparition wards could be put down with a silent spell only he knew.
'Hold on tight.' XxxxX
'I'm sorry, Mr. and Mrs. Lupin.' The healer paused before looking down and shaking his head sorrowfully. 'There's nothing more I can do.'
Del wailed into her husband's shoulders, an inhuman cry of misery. John Lupin, himself, had gone rigid, and as white as sheet, unfeeling of the sharp nails digging into his skin.
'Is-Is there no cure?' he asked shakily, already knowing the answer.
The healer shook his head again. 'I'm sorry. We'll take him to Ward 19 at three this afternoon. The potion takes effect five seconds after it's administered. Your son will go peacefully.'
Ward 19...
As soon as the information registered itself in his mind, John launched himself on the healer in a violent assault. He ignored his wife's pleas to calm down and if possible, gripped the man harder by the collar, effortlessly lifting him up and backing him up hard against the wall.
'This is my son we're talking about, not some invalid or street animal!' He bared his teeth viciously. 'My son!'
Ward 19...how could they even think?
The healer struggled against his hold, panic overshadowing any kind of common sense he possessed. If he was in any position to think, then he would have never said what he was about to say next: 'Mr. Lupin, please calm down. I'm only offering you the wisest solution. Your son is a werewolf now, do you understand me? He's a bane to the society and to himself, and by keeping him alive, you're only going to make things harder on the both of you. He's much better off dead.'
That was the last straw for John Lupin and whatever shred of self control he had, dissolved into pure wrath. It took five more minutes and three more people to get him off the poor man, but by then he'd knocked the healer unconscious. Seven years as an auror – John Lupin had been trained to know exactly where it hurt.
Later, when he'd calmed himself down enough to be let back into the room, he had sat himself on his son's bedside, opposite to his wife. His eyes unconsciously followed the angry red scar running from his son's neck to the end of his shoulder, and he slowly raised a hand to trace it.
'I'm never going to let him die, Del, never,' he said quietly, not looking up.
Del placed a comforting hand over her husband's. 'I would never have forgiven you if you had.'
'He deserves to live, just as much as any of these bastards. Perhaps even more,' he continued rambling, more to himself than anyone else. His hand came to rest upon his son's tiny chest, relishing at the feeling of his gentle heartbeat. He's alive. Thank God, he's alive. 'He'll prove all of them wrong, each and every one of them. They'll regret ever suggesting Ward 19, and... Greyback...' his teeth clenched tightly. 'I'm going to make him pay with his life.'
Del held his hand tightly. 'John, don't, please...'
John stood up angrily, running a shaky hand through his hair. 'Why not, Del? Why not? The bloody bastard nearly killed our son, and now...' he choked, but his face quickly set with determination. 'I'm going to hunt him down, even if it takes me my whole life!'
'You're going to do nothing of the sort! The ministry's been trying to get Greyback for five years, and as far as their investigations go, his slate's as clean as glass. Do you think your attempts are going to be able to make much of a difference?'
'I can try, Del! For Remus...'
'What good will revenge do to him? The damage is already done. It's best if you just let go and
concentrate on a cure. You owe him John Lupin...you owe your son his life.'
'I-' John raised his hands up helplessly and slumped back into his chair, head in his hands. 'God, Del. If I had just one chance to turn back time, I'd have gone back and accepted his offer. I would have never defied Greyback and just done what he'd asked. He'd warned me twice, but I ignored him, thinking my morals were all that mattered. And now look...shit, everything's just so fuckedup.'
Del walked over to her husband, slowly enveloping him into a hug. 'The past doesn't matter anymore, sweetheart. What we have to worry about is the present. John, this isn't going to be easy.'
John nodded. 'No, it isn't. I've decided, Del. As soon as they let him out, we're moving, far away from here, away from these people, away from Greyback, away from everything.'
Chapter 2 Strange and beautiful
12 Grimmauld Place...
Orion Black set the paper down, disgruntled, and proceeded to attack his bacon with newfound vengeance. 'Another werewolf attack, why am I not surprised?' he told to no one in particular, readily assuming that his wife would be listening. 'I don't know who's more despicable: these disgusting half breeds or the ministry, who can't find hide or hair of the one responsible for this anarchy for over five years.'
Sirius looked up from his plate and at his father, whose plate stabbing had gotten even more vicious by the end of his little speech. Anyone looking from outside would have thought Orion Black was furious over the death of so many innocent people. Sirius knew better and from the conversation that followed next, apparently, so did his wife, Walburga Black.
'The Ministry of Magic has been a disgrace ever since Barrywaters decided to step in,' she said absentmindedly glancing at her husband. 'What's worse is that most of the victims were children, pureblood at that. If this keeps up, there'll be no difference between us and those filthy muggles.'
Sirius bit his lip and concentrated on making little patterns with pieces of leftover toast. The conversation in particular would have been interesting had he not been hearing about it continuously for the past few months. It was always, how the wizarding world was getting tainted with 'those filthy mudbloods', and how 'those half breeds' needed to be hung as soon as they were born and so on, and so forth. Boring, really.
Werewolves had been the hot topic for the past few weeks now and for once, Sirius agreed with his parents. His tutor, Harad Felis had briefed him enough on dark creatures for him to know what kind of beasts werewolves were. According to Sirius, they were the vilest of dark creatures, who didn't have an ounce of self control over their blood thirst. They were lowly and inhumane and it was beyond him why the ministry allowed such creatures to even breathe, let alone work or educate themselves.
Walburga Black immediately noticed her eldest son, fiddling with his food and rapped his knuckles lightly with her cane. 'Don't play with your food, boy.'
Sirius rolled his eyes, but complied. 'Yes, mother.'
'Honestly, Sirius, has Harad taught you nothing?'
Sirius bit back a sharp retort. He knew better than to argue with his mother, especially if he wanted some peace and quiet in the house. After all, mischief was easier to manage without a constant racket.
He hastily swallowed the last of his breakfast and put down his fork. 'Mother, could I be excused?'
His mother nodded absent mindedly, too engaged in the topic of 'filthy half breeds' and 'disgraceful ministry' to particularly care. It seemed, thought Sirius, that his parents's passion for mockery and disdain of those below them was the only thing that kept them together. It definitely wasn't love, that he was sure of.
Sirius quickly got up from his chair, before his mother could spot another flaw in her eldest son and start her daily rants. On the way out, however, his eyes fell on the Daily Prophet where the words 'Werewolf Attack' was emblazoned in black bold letters. He stopped and stared at the headlines for a while, before looking back up at his mother.
'Mother, could I borrow the paper?' he asked, his hand already clutching the edge of it.
Walburga Black waved a dismissive hand. 'Do as you wish and while you're at it, see if Kreacher has remembered to feed Regulus. Sometimes I think that child is more trouble than he's worth.'
Sirius nodded, snatched the paper from the table, and proceeded to walk gracefully out of the kitchen. Once he reached the stairs, however, he broke into a run, ignoring Regulus's room and quickly entering his own. Kreacher was more than efficient in his daily duties. He didn't need Sirius's supervision. Besides, Regulus causing a commotion was only an added advantage to him because it meant that he could carry on with his work without being under scrutiny for the rest of the day.
Locking the door, he flopped on his bed and spread the paper before him. It wasn't the attacks in particular that intrigued Sirius. Hell, he didn't give a damn if a couple of snot nosed brats died as long as he was safe and sound. Besides, the Prophet often used words that were beyond the vocabulary of an ordinary six year old, even if they had been tutored by Harad Felis.
No, what had managed to capture Sirius Black's attention that particular day was the colour photograph that accompanied the news of the attack. It was of a small boy, sleeping peacefully on one of the beds in Mungo's. Most of his face was hidden and buried deep within the recesses of his pillow, but you could still make out the beginnings of an angry red scar on his neck before it disappeared completely beneath the sheets. His honey coloured hair contrasted horribly with his skin, which was so pale that it seemed like he was trying to outdo the white of the sheets draped over him.
Sirius watched in awe as the boy's chest rose and fell continuously. Entranced, he ran a single finger over the boy's picture.Strange, yet...And just for a second there, Sirius felt something akin to sympathy. It was a new feeling, and he never got the chance to explore it because he was rudely interrupted by a healer coming in front of the camera and shouting what Sirius could only imagine as obscenities.
Sirius blinked quickly. Once, twice, then shrugged and took out a pair of scissors from his desk drawer. He carefully cut the picture out, making sure he didn't rip the sides. He fumbled in his drawer again, this time coming out with a book he'd nicked from the library: Dark Arts at its Finest. He hadn't really understood much of it, but he was sure it would come in handy once he was older. For now, the title sounded cool and he wanted to keep it as an act of defiance against his parents.
Sirius looked at the picture one last time, disappointed that the healer had not moved by much and that he could only catch a small glimpse of the mysterious occupant in the bed. He sighed heavily and placed it in between the pages of the book, never to open it for another six years. He didn't know why he was saving this picture in particular but right then, it had seemed important, like the boy was a vital part of his life. The key to a hidden lock...
Chapter 3
Lupin Cottage...
Remus Lupin woke up on a Saturday morning to the sound of his parents screaming downstairs in the kitchen. He shifted uncomfortably on his bed and pulled his pillow over his head, trying and failing to block out the noise. He had stayed up all night watching Dracula for the fifth time, and had every intention to make up for the lost sleep. His parents, on the other hand seemed completely oblivious to his discomfort.
What was worse was that you couldn't even make out what they were rowing so furiously about. The thick oak door of his room made sure of that. Instead, all that could be heard was a buzzing incomprehensible noise, like bad static on the radio.
Remus turned on his side and immediately regretted it as a sharp pain shot through him. Last week's transformation had been anything but merciful on him and this time, he seemed to be taking longer than usual to heal. After all, magical maladies could only do so much, and the few that did have better effects were recently banned by the ministry for werewolves to use. Needless to say, John Lupin had been outraged. The scene that followed expressed clearly just how outraged John had been and is better left unsaid, for the sake of those with weak hearts.
Remus scrunched his eyes shut. It was useless now, he concluded. He was never going to get any sleep at this rate, especially since his bladder decided right then that it would be a good time for release. He got up gingerly; cursing himself for being foolish enough to even consider lying down on his side. God, it hurt.
He stumbled into the bathroom sleepily and after he'd finished his business, took out his toothbrush and toothpaste from the mirror cabinet. As he closed the cabinet door, he caught his reflection in the mirror and quickly reopened it again. Remus hated his reflection with a passion. Hated it, because every time he looked at himself, he could see the wolf staring ferociously through his eyes. His mother had told him off for it several times, saying that it was all in his head and that a handsome boy like him should want to keep a mirror in front of his face all day.
What would she know? She was a muggle, a psychiatrist, and a mother ...
Remus Lupin was not stupid. He knew how incomplete he was. How he was stuck between the worlds of man and beast. His life here on earth was unjustified and no matter how much his parents tried to make him think otherwise, he was smart enough to know the truth.
The people who knew him hated him, and those who didn't...well, Remus hated them. It wasn't like he was antisocial. Quite the contrary, Remus had the privilege to go to a good muggle school and had quite a handful of friends who truly cared for him. However, if he ever told them who he truly was, he'd only get laughed at. They would never know, never understand.
Remus shook his head as he walked out of the bathroom and down the stairs. Eleven year olds were not meant to have thoughts like these. It was bad enough that he was a werewolf, he didn't need another label to claim him as psychologically disturbed as well.
His bare feet padded silently across the carpeted stairs, and he yawned widely, unable to believe that his parents were still rowing. It must be something serious. He'd almost tuned their voices out, when he heard his name being mentioned and peeked through the kitchen door cautiously, making sure he was well out of sight.
John Lupin was pacing holes into the floor, running his fingers repeatedly through his hair. 'You have to understand Del, I had talked to Dippet about this before, and he had assured me that Remus would never be able to get in! And now, Dumbledore comes to us personally with the offer of a lifetime! We can't just refuse!' He banged his fist, frustrated, against the kitchen table.
Delilah Lupin looked at her husband incredulously. 'You talked to Dippet? When?'
John sat down heavily on a nearby chair. 'A year ago. I know how you feel about this, Del,' he said before his wife could speak again. 'But I couldn't just sit back and do nothing about it. I had to know...know if he could ever get into Hogwarts. He such a smart boy, and he deserves so much more...'
Del moved behind him to rest both hands on her husband's shoulders, massaging them comfortingly. 'I know, sweetheart. But look what magic got us...Remus...into last time. I-I just can't risk that all over again, not when we've finally got everything settled out. I just want Remus to grow up like a normal boy. Go to college, become an accountant, or a doctor, or something.'
John shook his head. 'Magic is in his blood, Del, stronger than most children his age...given his condition. You can't just push it away.'
'No, but I can protect him from it.' She bit her lip. 'John, even if we do let him go, can you imagine the amount of prejudice he has to face? People are going to hurt him, and I'm not talking about physical pain alone.'
John looked at his wife pleadingly. 'Dumbledore will be taking precautions. No one's ever to know. Remus would be passing off as any other normal boy his age. Please, Del, he deserves a chance.'
Del looked at him uncertainly. 'I-'
On the other side of the room, Remus's mind was whirring. He was being accepted into Hogwarts? By this Dumbledore man? And no one would find out about him being a werewolf. What was the problem then? Why did his mother oppose to the idea so much? He was being given the opportunity to learn magic, to be the wizard he was born to be, to be among his own people? Who in their right minds would refuse such an offer?
Hogwarts, thought Remus again. All those stories his father had shared about his childhood; he could see if they were all true.
Remus Lupin had made his decision right then. So setting, what he hoped was a determined expression on his face, he walked in. His parents stopped mid conversation and looked at him, startled at the strange gleam in his eyes. 'Mom,' he said slowly. 'Dad, I want to go.'
And for the parents of an only child, that was all it took.