"I've brought us some food," Remus called, stepping into the dank, tumbledown warehouse with a dead deer slung over his shoulder. He set it down on a table near the back wall, around which a group of young men were rifling through a heap of old restaurant burgers and chips.
"You used magic to kill that thing, didn't you?" one of them said, his lips drawn back in a slight sneer.
"I did use magic, Jasper," Remus admitted; "there's no reason not to. You're a wizard, too, you know—you could do magic just as well as anyone."
"Hmph," Jasper sniffed. "Werewolves aren't wizards. It's not natural."
Remus barely suppressed a frustrated sigh. He could help these werewolves so much with his magic, but every time he used it, they grew more and more hostile to him. Unfortunately, he had no idea how to prove his worth to the wolves without it.
Less than a week after Sirius's death, Remus had gone to Dumbledore and offered to infiltrate the werewolf packs, an idea which Dumbledore had mentioned in passing to him before. It was incredibly dangerous work, given that Remus was trying to undermine Fenrir Greyback, the most savage and bloodthirsty werewolf of all—but it was exactly the work he'd needed after everything that had happened.
Right now he was living with a pack led by a wolf called Lexen, whom Remus had met once many years ago when he was living with the rebel werewolf Caerny. Lexen's wolves, like Caerny's, were known for being hostile to Fenrir Greyback and his arrangement with Voldemort, and Remus was doing everything he could to convince them that the Dark Lord's fight was not their own.
There were nearly forty members of the pack, werewolves both old and young—a gray-haired woman named Dalia sat knitting a sweater in a corner of the warehouse, and there was a trio of young children circling the walls and kicking around a deflated football. The presence of the children was what gave Remus the greatest hope that this pack could be swayed; they had been taken in by Lexen after being bitten by Fenrir and thrown out by their families, a direct defiance of Greyback and his claim on indoctrinating the children he savaged.
Lexen squeezed his way out of a storeroom in the back, his current mate—a woman named Aneesa—hanging off his arm. "Surprised you're still here," he grunted at Remus as he walked past.
"Where else would I be?" Remus said. "I told you, I want to live with your pack now."
"No, you don't," Lexen retorted as Aneesa ran off; "you think you're too good for us, what with your magic stick and all. I let you stay because you bring us good food and supplies, but that doesn't mean my wolves are going to run off to fight for Dumbledore as soon as you give the word."
"No one needs to fight for Dumbledore," Remus said patiently, "but fighting for Voldemort—"
The main door of the warehouse was thrown suddenly open; Remus whipped around as three burly, disheveled men pushed their way inside, their glowering eyes instantly trained on him.
His breath hitching, Remus stepped slowly towards the men and drew his wand, aiming it at the chest of one in the middle. The men laughed, not looking the least bit concerned. "You trying to curse us, Lupin?" one of them sneered.
"Who are you?" Remus demanded, disconcerted at the fact that they knew his name. He could tell by their ragged appearance and the large bite scar on the left man's forearm that they were werewolves of some sort.
"Friends of Fenrir," the wolf in the middle replied. Remus's heart plummeted down his chest; it was all he could do to keep his grip firm on his wand. "We've gotten a tip-off that you've been crawling around from pack to pack, trying to turn all the wolves against him. Fenrir wasn't too happy to hear about it, so he sent us to try and clear a few things up." The wolf gave him a wild, black-toothed grin.
Remus raised his wand, prepared to defend himself; a massive weight slammed into him from behind, and he fell to the ground, his wand clattering across the grimy warehouse floor. A pair of rough hands hoisted him up by the arms and rolled him over until he was peering into the triumphant eyes of Jasper, the wolf who had only just been complaining about his magic use. He must have been the one to tip Fenrir off about him.
"Nice one, boy," said one of Fenrir's wolves, coming over and treading deliberately on Remus's outstretched hand. "You'll be rewarded for this." Remus turned his head towards his wand, only a few feet out of reach…Accio Wand, he thought, but nothing happened.
"You led Fenrir's pack to us?" Lexen snarled from behind them, outraged. "Right into our camp, Jasper?"
"I had to," Jasper said through his teeth. "You never should've let this traitor stay with us, Lexen. He deserves whatever Fenrir's got planned for him."
"He is under my protection," Lexen said firmly. "I am not so weak a leader—"
"Shut it," snapped the man stepping on Remus's fingers, "or we'll be turning in your entire pack, Lexen!"
One of the children gave a terrified cry; Remus could see him cowering with Dalia in her knitting corner, who quickly reached up to cover his eyes with her half-finished sweater. The rest of the pack had retreated to the warehouse's back walls, warily watching the exchange; with a tight nod, Lexen gave Fenrir's wolves permission to continue.
Grinning, the middle wolf grabbed Remus by the back of the neck and punched him right in the nose; he heard it snap under the force and gasped as warm blood gushed out across his skin and into his mouth, tasting like metal against his tongue. Another man yanked up Remus's shirt and raked his claw-sharp nails slowly down his chest…Remus forced himself to concentrate through the pain, focusing only on his wand…. Accio Wand, Accio Wand, Accio Wand.
"Fenrir remembered you, Lupin," breathed the man crushing his hand, his heel digging into the fingers one at a time until the bones gave way. "This isn't your first time serving as Dumbledore's pet wolf, but it'll definitely be your last."
"Not…a pet…." Remus gasped, Jasper squeezing his arms so tightly he could hardly feel them as a foot pressed into his windpipe.
"Whatever you need to tell yourself. You look like an old man, Lupin—suppose that's what you get for pretending you're something you're not."
"I know…exactly…who I am," Remus said, which was very much a lie. The wolves laughed skeptically—Remus summoned up every last bit of strength he had in him and yelled, "Accio Wand!"
The wand flew finally into his still-intact hand, and he sent all four of his attackers tumbling backwards with a powerful Depulso. Then he closed his eyes and Apparated away to safety, the wolves' laughs still ringing in his ears.
"Remus!" Molly Weasley exclaimed tiredly, pulling open the door to 12 Grimmauld Place. "It's the middle of the nigh—oh! What in Merlin's name happened to you?"
Remus was coughing on the blood spilling down from his nose. "Got in a fight with some wolves," he explained. "I didn't know where else to come…I was hoping someone would be here."
"Get in, get in!" Molly helped him stagger up to the kitchen table, then rushed off to find whatever healing supplies she could dig up around the house. She healed Remus's nose with a simple Episkey and wrapped his crushed hand in a soothing numbing poultice to ease the pain until she had time to acquire some Skele-Gro and mend the fingers. The Order had a small store of powdered silver and dittany for werewolf-induced injuries, which Molly cleared out to cover over the cursed wounds on Remus's chest. "These'll still leave scars," she reminded him unnecessarily.
"Thank you, Molly," he murmured when she was done, fetching him a warm cup of chamomile tea and bundling him up in a soft Kneazle-fur blanket.
Molly mmmd in response. "I don't know what you're thinking, running around with werewolves for weeks on end." Remus raised an amused eyebrow at her. "With other werewolves," she corrected; "you know what I mean. The packs."
"Dumbledore asked me to," he replied simply.
"Well, he shouldn't have. It's not as though any of them are going to change their minds, is it? And now they've gone and torn you up…it's too much risk for so little, I don't know why you do it…."
Remus swallowed, glancing away; Molly wouldn't understand. Every time he had the chance to let his guard down, his mind found itself flooded with the memories of two terrible scenes: Sirius falling slowly through the veil in the Department of Mysteries, and Tonks with her dull hair and teary eyes, her heart broken by Remus and his rejection. Together the memories were enough to sap him of every vestige of happiness he had left, their effects as strong as a Dementor—he had to keep himself busy and in danger, or he would completely lose his will to continue on.
"We're worried about you, Remus," Molly said, a bit quieter now. "She's worried about you. The state she's been in—she thinks it's her fault you're risking your neck the way you are."
"It's not," Remus said firmly. "I can't…she's done nothing wrong."
"I know she's done nothing wrong," Molly snapped. "Poor girl…I've been trying to set her up with Bill whenever she stops by—she's worth a thousand of Fleur Delacour, let me tell you—but it seems she's still stuck on you."
Remus felt a thrill of pleasure to hear this, almost instantly drowned out by the wave of guilt that followed. Tonks could never be with him…why should he feel happy that she couldn't move on? I can't move on, either.
"You should come by the Burrow for Christmas," Molly said. "The children are about to get home from school…Harry would love to see you, especially now that—now that Sirius is gone."
"Christmas?" Remus hadn't known—with the chill rising in the air, it made sense that the holidays were approaching, but the wolves had made no mention of it.
"Yes, Christmas!" Molly shook her head exasperatedly. "You can at least take a week off from your Order work; I refuse to let you spend Christmas alone, or with a pack of werewolves."
Remus pursed his lips. Molly's offer reminded him distinctly of one he had made to Sirius only two years ago, when they had spent the winter months together cozy in his cabin in Yorkshire before everything fell apart again. He could see Harry again…he should see him, he thought—the two of them had hardly spoken since Sirius's death. And with the Burrow full of people, coming and going and cooking and chatting, Remus should be able to busy himself enough to keep his horrible thoughts at bay, at least for a little while.
"All right," he told Molly, giving her the faintest of smiles. "I'll come by for Christmas."
