Resolutions
By Neurotica
Twenty-Six
The Dark Mark was burning. It always burned these days, and there was nothing to do for it except wait it out and hope the pain didn't grow too unbearable. The only way to truly make the burning stop was to go to the Dark Lord when he called; unfortunately for Draco Malfoy, that was not an option at the moment.
He stood at the kitchen window of the small cabin he and his mother had been thrown in by Black and Dumbledore. Were he anybody else, he would have admitted the place was actually comfortable, and although he wasn't enjoying the whole hiding aspect, he really had nothing to complain about—he was safe, far away from the Dark Lord and his father, and the only person who could tell where the Malfoys were was Minerva McGonagall.
But he wasn't anybody else. He was Draco Malfoy, and as such, he complained near constantly, mostly to the deaf ears of his mother or the house-elf, about absurd trivialities, such as the tastelessness of whoever had decorated the place. He ranted and raved about the lack of servants to do the cleaning and cooking—only Dobby had come with them and there was too much for one house-elf to do.
His mother was miserable in this place. He'd found her dozens of times staring at the fire in the middle of the night. She rarely spoke to him, even less than she ever did back at the Manor. She only spoke to him anymore when she was reading one of the letters Dumbledore sent, filling them in on all the news in the wizarding world—they couldn't receive the Daily Prophet where they were. McGonagall still visited every two weeks and dropped off assignments for Draco to work on so he could finish his seventh year of magical education. Normally, he wouldn't bother with the schoolwork—the Dark Lord didn't give a damn about how many N.E.W.T.s his followers achieved. But Draco was bored and the time seemed to pass more quickly when he was busy with his studying.
His jaw clenched tightly as a rather painful jolt of electricity shot from his arm down to his toes and back within seconds. The Dark Lord called them still.
Dumbledore had sent Draco a private note through McGonagall a week or so ago with a proposition; the old coot had asked Draco to help out his Order of the Phoenix—to handover information on the Death Eaters. Draco had read the letter many times since he'd received it, but he still couldn't find any ulterior motives—Dumbledore hadn't demanded information, but requested it.
But when he thought about it, Draco realized he should have known there would be a price to pay for being in hiding under the Order's protection. Nothing was ever free, isn't that what his father had taught him? It hadn't been his decision to go into hiding; he would have been just fine with going to Azkaban. That had been his master's wish for him—there'd been a reason he was captured at the Ministry. The Dark Lord's plan needed only be postponed after Draco's capture. It would still be carried out. And if the intense pain he was feeling in his arm was any indication, the time would be coming shortly.
Draco both looked forward to and dreaded what would happen. His father, if he even knew Draco was still alive, would be infuriated that his son had failed the Dark Lord so many times. Lucius' dream had been to have his son follow in his footsteps. Draco had thought he wanted to follow the Dark Lord and carry out his bidding, but the night of his initiation, the night he'd been given the Dark Mark, was still fresh in his mind, as was the feeling of wanting to hide behind his mother—a feeling he'd never felt before, even as a young child.
Dumbledore had spoken with him many a time while he was still at Hogwarts, and the Headmaster had explained that the Order of the Phoenix did not treat its members as the Dark Lord treated his Death Eaters. There were no punishments for a failed mission; there was no pain if Dumbledore was upset or angry about something. But Draco had to think about who would win this war—if the Dark Lord triumphed in the end, Draco and his mother would be killed, along with all the others who defied him. But if the Dark Lord was defeated, Draco could live his life. He could marry and have children, and he'd never again have to worry about whether he would wake up some night looking into a pair of scarlet eyes just before death hit him.
As the burning in his arm subsided, Draco reached his decision. He turned from the window and went to his bedroom where he sat at the desk with a sheet of parchment, a quill, and fresh ink, and began writing his response to Dumbledore.
Five days before the November full moon, Sirius was at Azkaban escorting Theodore Nott to a cell. It had taken nearly three days and a final ruling from the Wizengamot, but the boy's use of an Unforgivable Curse on a fellow student had awarded him a lifetime stay at the prison. His father had fought hard and had even resorted to threatening various members of the Ministry and the wizarding high court, mostly out of sheer desperation to save his son's life. Minister Bones had had the final say, and her attitude towards any person's use of an Unforgivable, no matter their age, had hardened. She'd ordered Nott's immediate arrest and transportation to Azkaban, completely ignoring Patroclus Nott's indignant shouts.
The young wizard's new home was just across from Barty Crouch Junior and beside Rabastan Lestrange. Sirius had seen people burst into tears when the bars on their cell were closed. He'd heard people beginning to go insane within five minutes of being left in Azkaban. He'd watched people curl up on the floor as the fear of what the future would bring them began to set in. And every time he experienced those things, they sent shivers down his spine and it never got any easier to deal with. But very much like when the bars were closed on Bellatrix's cell or Lucius', Sirius felt no remorse for the boy inside, even when he was walking away and he swore he heard Nott begin to sob.
Serves him right, Sirius thought coldly as he glared in at Bellatrix's sleeping form. Messing with me is one thing, but mess with my family and pay. Case and point, he added as he felt Malfoy's eyes on him from behind. "Help you with something, Lucius?" he asked as evenly as he could manage.
"I won't be in here forever, Black," the other wizard said softly.
Sirius nodded. "You're right. When you finally die, we've got to take you out so we can throw you to the sea," he said almost lightly.
Malfoy sneered. "You will pay for what you did to my son."
Sirius rolled his eyes. "You still haven't paid nearly enough for what you did to mine, so why don't you go on back to glaring at the walls and stop threatening me. If you're a good boy, I might even consider having my Aurors bring you a meal at some point in the next week."
As he turned and started to walk away, he tried to ignore Malfoy's reply, but found it rather difficult.
"Isn't it funny, Black, how your daughter could have just as easily been mine?"
Sirius' face twisted in anger and it took every ounce of restraint and discipline Sirius had not to throw the prisoner against the stone wall and beat him until he stopped breathing. Clenching his fists so tightly that his fingernails drew blood on his palms, he left the maximum-security ward; all the while his wife's voice filled his head. "Don't let him get to you," she told him. "He's just trying to piss you off... He's not worth your anger."
He stopped in the corridor and reached into his robes, taking out a small picture he'd started carrying with him everywhere a few weeks ago, right after it was taken. It was the first photo of him, Naomi, and Mira together, and just the sight of his family—or part of it—calmed him instantly. He studied his daughter's features closely, smiling at how much she resembled both him and her mother at the same time. Very vaguely, he wondered what he would have done if he'd found out Mira had actually been fathered by Lucius Malfoy during the time he'd threatened Naomi into sleeping with him. But he forcefully pushed that one out of his mind. Mira was his. Nobody else's. No matter what. He placed the photo back into his robes and continued walking down the Azkaban corridors, more relieved than usual when he reached the exit, and quite thankful one of his Aurors hadn't stopped him for a chat before he went back to the Ministry.
Emmeline sighed as she walked down the stairs to the kitchen, not at all surprised to find her husband at the table huddled over a pile of books. He'd been in one of his brooding moods ever since they'd come back to Number Twelve, only occasionally breaking out of it to go on with his day. He wouldn't say what he was working on, but Emmeline was certain it had something to do with the conversation he'd had with Dumbledore.
Without him noticing her, she sat beside him at the table and just watched him for a while. "Any particular reason you're so interested in the Hogwarts Founders all of a sudden?" she asked, growing weary of the silence.
Remus jumped violently, as though someone had screamed in his ear. He turned to look at her. "Are you trying to give me a heart attack?"
She raised an eyebrow. "I've been sitting here, watching you for minutes. You're the one so far off in la-la land that you have no idea what's going on around you."
"Oh." He sighed. "I'm sorry. I've just gotten wrapped up in something, and... I'm sorry."
She smiled a little. "It's all right. You never answered my question—what's with the fascination in the Founders?"
He half-shrugged. "Curiosity mostly," he said. "They were interesting people. Did you know Godric Gryffindor could control fire?"
"No, I didn't," she answered, studying his face closely. "There's something you're not telling me, isn't there?" He averted his eyes. "Is it something to do with what Dumbledore wanted to speak with you about?"
"Possibly..."
She raised an eyebrow.
"Yes," he said after shifting around in his chair nervously.
She waited. "And?" she said when he didn't answer.
He suddenly looked very uncomfortable. "It's not important," he said, trying hard to ignore her raised eyebrow. Now he understood why Sirius hated his eyebrows so much: they seemed to have a power all their own. And Remus knew his wife well enough to know she wouldn't let this go until she had a suitable explanation on why he'd been secluding himself from everyone else for the past few days. He sighed in defeat. "I told you about Harry and his relationship to Gryffindor—that was part of the reason he was able to remove the dagger on Halloween..." She nodded. "Dumbledore asked me to his office to inform me that there is more than one living Heir to Gryffindor. I didn't believe him at first. I thought perhaps he'd gotten his information crossed somehow. What he was saying wasn't making any sense. It went against everything I ever knew. But the more I thought on it, the more sense it finally began to make."
"And yet, you're making no sense now," Emmeline said, shaking her head.
He gave her a small smile. "I am the other living Heir to Godric Gryffindor," he said quietly, shaking his own head a little. "You've seen my patronus. I never understood why it took on the form it does—my father's was a bear and I always thought that was what mine would be. Obviously, I was wrong."
Emmeline stared at him. "How?" she asked quietly. "Wouldn't your parents have told you if you were an Heir?"
"My father never knew apparently," Remus said. "It comes from my grandfather's side of the family—he died when my father was very young, two or three, I think, and he never told his wife about it, so the information was pretty much lost."
"You do realize this is completely unbelievable, right?" she asked. "Fascinating, but unbelievable."
Remus chuckled. "Now you understand why I've been buried in books. I've been trying to find out more about all this..."
"So would this mean you're related to Harry?"
"Distantly," he replied. "It goes back centuries, but I was able to find out where the Lupins and Potters intermarried. One of my great-great-great-great grandmothers married a Potter against her family's wishes. The Lupins wouldn't even admit they had a Potter relation. I suspect there was some sort of feud between them. The couple had three children, and a few years after the last was born, he was killed by one of his wife's brothers. The Lupins took her back into the family and helped raise the children. She died of heartbreak before her oldest son was seven years old."
"That's horrible," Emmeline breathed. "Why would they do that? Why would they kill him?"
Remus shook his head. "The Lupins haven't ever been the most kindhearted of families. They disowned my father when he married my mother and the few who accepted her ran when they found out about my bite. I can only remember one uncle who ever visited after he'd heard what I'd become, and he stopped coming round when I was eight. My father never said why, but I heard him and my mother talking about how he'd been poisoned and they thought one of my other uncles was involved."
"Wow."
"Indeed."
"And I thought my brother Michael was bad..."
Remus grinned. "Well, unless he comes here and tries to kill me after the twins are born, I'd say mine wins the most malicious family award."
"I didn't know we were having a contest..." she said faintly, still trying to wrap her head around what she'd just been told. "So I'm married to an Heir of Gryffindor. And here I thought I'd already learned the most interesting things about you."
He shrugged. "It won't make much of a difference overall, I suppose. But honestly, I'd have thought Heir of Ravenclaw fit me more than Gryffindor, personally."
"Well, it doesn't really matter what fits you, does it? It's your family, and that's not something that changes... Is there anything about the other Heirs in there? Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw, I mean; we know all about Slytherin's."
Remus nodded. "There's a bit," he said. "Ravenclaw is mostly lost—no one is sure there even is a living Heir anymore. But Hufflepuff... You knew Frank Longbottom, didn't you?"
"Of course, who didn't?" Realization dawned. "Are you trying to tell me the Longbottoms are Hufflepuff's Heirs?"
"Well, I don't know for sure, but that's the idea I've gotten. And it would make a lot of sense—Helga Hufflepuff was of course known for Herbology. She planted most of the Forbidden Forest... Frank always had a knack for plants that Professor Sprout didn't even have, as does his son Neville from what I've seen personally and from what Harry's told me. Now, if Neville had his father's confidence... Anyway, that's my thought on it..."
Emmeline sighed, shaking her head in amazement. "Is there anything else you've not told me that I should be aware of?"
Remus pretended to think hard for a moment. "Yes," he finally said solemnly. "You are the love of my life and I'm going to kiss you now to makeup for my being so antisocial."
The books on the table were neglected for long minutes while Remus followed through with his statement.
"You're sure you want to do this?"
"Do I look sure?"
"No, you look a bit mental when you pace like that, actually."
A pause.
"Thank you."
"Just saying..."
Remus rolled his eyes and ran a hand through his hair as he ceased the pacing that obviously annoyed the witches in the room. He sat down at the table with a heavy sigh. In less than two hours, he would be leading a team into the Werewolf Underground with the hopes of arresting those who'd taken part in the numerous attacks over the last several years and sending the rest back to their families.
Aurors Davies, Savage, and Proudfoot, the ones who'd never been to Number Twelve, would be arriving shortly with Sirius and Mad-Eye, and they would go over the plan once more with Remus and Tonks, who'd been at the house for about an hour. While they waited, Remus had pulled out a map of the Underground and marked the path they would take—Tonks was sitting across from him with Emmeline, and the witches watched him stress and worry and pace while they talked about anything but the day's mission. It was mostly for Emmeline's benefit, Remus thought, that they avoided the subject. She hadn't slept well the night before; when Remus had asked why, she told him she was worried about whether he and the Aurors would make it out of the Underground alive. They would be greatly outnumbered by feral werewolves who were angry about losing their alpha. She was only relieved they hadn't decided to ambush the werewolves on the full moon. At least before the transformations, the team would be able to stun the whole lot of them without having to worry about the werewolves breaking through the spell before they were transported.
The adult males would be sent to Azkaban until it was determined whether they were involved in the attacks. The females and children would go to a special ward in St. Mungo's, prepared specifically for this purpose, where they would carry out their transformations. Afterwards, their families would be contacted, and unless the family wanted nothing to do with them, they would be free to go. Those with families who'd disowned them would have homes arranged for them. Minister Bones had reluctantly met with Sirius and Remus—she was still wary about meeting with anybody—a few days before. After thanking the Head Auror for how he'd handled her situation, she'd agreed to setting up what would amount to group homes for the female and child werewolves where they could learn to live as mostly normal people. Wolfsbane potion would be readily available, and if they were interested, the Ministry would assist in the women finding jobs, and the children would be given an education.
Minister Bones had assured the two wizards that she had no intention of leaving office unless she was forced to do so; she was determined to see the wizarding world through to the end of the war. Remus was quite relieved to hear this; besides everything Bones had done for him by giving him a job in the Ministry when no other Minister would have cared enough to think about it, he considered her a good friend and ally. For whatever reasons (Sirius said because she fancied him—Remus slapped him), the Minister had always been quite fond of Remus, and was doing everything she could to change the anti-werewolf legislations set by Cornelius Fudge and Delores Umbridge. And if the plan went the way Remus hoped it would today, it would be an enormous step in terms of how werewolves were treated in the wizarding world.
"Does he always zone out like this?" Tonks was asking Emmeline.
"Constantly," the other witch replied. "And the only way to snap him out of it is to tell him I'm leaving him."
"That's kind of cruel."
"But effective."
"And one of these days," Remus said, "he's going to believe it."
Emmeline grinned. "You're smarter than that, my dear."
Remus turned to Tonks. "I'm still waiting for her to realize she could do so much better than me."
Emmeline rolled her eyes. "I am not getting into this conversation with you again. I may be forced to slap you if we do." Remus chuckled and blew her a kiss. "So how are things going with you and Charlie, Tonks?"
The younger witch, who'd been formerly trying not to laugh at Remus, now beamed. "Very well," she replied. "He's in Romania for the week, working on getting the dragon colonies expanded. Their numbers are growing larger and there's not enough room for them to really move about without Muggles spotting them."
Remus nodded. "He's actually trying to convince the Ministry to setup a colony in the northern part of England, maybe southern Scotland. It's not gone over to well so far, but—"
The familiar and unmistakable sound thunk of Mad-Eye's wooden leg cut him off. "It's about time you lot show up," Tonks said as Sirius led the Aurors down the stairs. "I was starting to wonder if you'd gotten lost."
"Shut it, Nymphy," Sirius said. "We were waiting for Dumbledore to get to the Ministry so he could tell these three how to get here." He gestured to Proudfoot, Savage, and Davies. "And then, of course, Mad-Eye spent half an hour debating on if it was even safe to tell them how to get here, and if we should have Apparated to China before Grimmauld Place just to cover our tracks."
Mad-Eye only grunted under his breath, something about constant vigilance, and pushed past Davies. The younger wizard was looking around the kitchen in nervous curiosity. "We need to get a move on," he growled. "Sooner this is done and over with, the better."
"Keep your knickers on, Mad-Eye," Sirius said, earning a glare from his former boss. "Alright, kiddies, we're taking a portkey to the entrance of the Underground. From there, we walk. We're not sure if the werewolves have wards around their place or not. Before we leave, we put Disillusionment Charms and scent-disguising spells over ourselves. Once we're in, we don't hesitate. Stun everything that moves and that you don't see standing in front of you right now."
"Even the children?" Davies asked.
Remus nodded. "We don't want them to be more frightened than they're already apt to be once they find themselves in a strange environment come full moon—most of them were born in the Underground and they don't know anything else. They're still children regardless of their... condition, and they'll stress just as easily and thoroughly as any other. Especially since the full moon is so near."
Davies and Savage exchanged a furtive, nervous glance. Proudfoot glared at them both. "If you're going to back out, do it now," he said bluntly. "You were both so eager for this mission a week ago. We don't need to get down there and have you get cold feet. What is it, then? Are you in or out?"
The others looked at the two Aurors expectantly. Both hesitated but nodded. "We're in," Savage said quietly. Davies nodded again. "We were only wondering... well, what if someone gets bitten?"
"Oh bloody hell!" Mad-Eye said incredulously. "Are you kidding me, Black? These two dimwits are the best you've got?"
"No need for name calling, Mad-Eye," Sirius said. "I wouldn't count on anyone being bitten," he added mildly to the two younger Aurors, watching Tonks' lips twitch out of the corner of his eye. "Those werewolves aren't transformed until tonight. They're perfectly normal."
Davies muttered something under his breath that nobody but Tonks caught—she turned and glared hard at him. He gulped, his eyes darting from Remus to Sirius to Mad-Eye. "Would you care to share with the class?" Sirius asked. Davies shook his head. The Head Auror rolled his eyes and sighed. "Right. Do we have the portkey ready?"
"Sirius, before we go, I'd like a word with you, if you don't mind," Remus said quietly.
Sirius looked at him and nodded, slightly confused. "Yeah, sure..."
The two wizards left the kitchen and closed the door. "What's up?" Sirius asked.
"Maybe this isn't the best idea after all," Remus began. When his best friend opened his mouth to retort, he held up a hand to stop him. "It's obvious at least two of your Aurors—no offense to you—have no idea what we're about to face. Regardless of the fact that the werewolves aren't yet transformed, they're still dangerous—they're practically feral. If one of the Aurors was to freeze up, this could end up very badly."
"Savage and Davies will be fine," Sirius assured. "They will do their jobs. Yes, they're a little uneducated on werewolves, but once we get down there, they'll be all right. Alright?"
Remus smiled a little and nodded. "If you're certain, then."
"Of course I'm certain," the Auror replied. "I'm Sirius Black. I'm always certain."
"That's what I'm worried about," Remus teased, leading the way back down the stairs.
Emmeline had prepared the portkey, an old shoe, and handed it to Sirius before going to Remus. "Be careful down there," she said, hugging him tightly. "I wish I could go with you."
"No you don't," Remus said a bit more forcefully than he'd intended. "Trust me on that." He kissed her deeply. "I'll be back as soon as I can. I love you."
"Love you too," she whispered as he winked and stepped into the circle around the portkey between Sirius and Mad-Eye. "Good luck," she said to the group, receiving varying replies—Mad-Eye grunted; Sirius, Tonks, and Remus smiled; Proudfoot nodded; and Savage and Davies, who both looked slightly ill, gulped.
Once the Disillusionment charms and scent-disguising spells were completed, Sirius began the countdown. "Three... two... one..." The team of seven each felt a tug at their navels and the kitchen of Number Twelve disappeared half a second later.
Seven pairs of feet slammed into the concrete ground of the London Underground. A few people swayed a bit from the portkey ride, but caught their balance quickly. "Wands out," Mad-Eye said quietly. Everyone obeyed.
Sirius looked around. He'd been in the Underground a few times before, to ride the tube with Lily and James or Remus, but it never looked like this. Unlike the times he'd been there, there were no commuters waiting to board their train; it was dark and musty, the rails were rusty and busted in places, rubbish littered the corners, graffiti covered the walls, and there was a horrid stench of rotten eggs and sour milk coming from somewhere nearby. He glanced over to where he knew his best friend to be—Remus seemed to be waiting for something. "All right, Moony?" the Auror asked quietly.
"Yes," Remus replied a bit hoarsely. "We're about two miles from the werewolves—we go this way." He lit the tip of his wand and pointed it down the dark tunnel. "Keep together; keep quiet."
As they walked, the one thought that kept running through Sirius' mind was how could anybody live in this place? Granted, he didn't have much room to talk, given that he'd grown up in Number Twelve, but at least there, there wasn't a danger of developing some sort of infection from mold inhalation or some such thing. Another thought he had, one that was a bit troubling, was that Remus could have been forced to live here. If he hadn't had the parents he'd had, or if Greyback had kidnapped him, he would've been part of this pack.
And we never would have known him. He would have been part of the enemy, not the solution... He banished those thoughts quite quickly.
The walk took less time than Sirius had anticipated it would. Before he was ready, he'd run into the back of Remus and had to put a hand across Davies' mouth to keep him from yelling out in surprise from the sudden halt.
"Mad-Eye, what can you see?" Remus whispered. He was standing in front of a pair of heavy stone doors with a lopsided 'no admittance' sign hanging on it.
There were a few muffled clunks signaling Mad-Eye had joined Remus at the front, then silence for a few minutes. "'Bout two, three dozen," Mad-Eye growled. "All asleep."
"Asleep?" Tonks whispered incredulously. "All of them?"
"Aye. Wait... Take that back—one awake, male, looks like a big black bear," Mad-Eye corrected himself. "Pacing up and down the tunnel."
"Greyback's beta," Remus said with certainty. Sirius pretended he hadn't heard the hint of nervousness in his best friend's tone. "He'll need to be taken down first."
"I'll do it," Sirius said. "Tell me when he turns his back, Mad-Eye."
Another minute or two of silence before Mad-Eye gave the all-clear. Sirius moved to the door and carefully pulled it open only enough for him to squeeze through. The tall, muscular werewolf was a few hundred yards away, and Sirius had a clear shot. "Stupefy," he whispered, putting as much power as he dared into the spell. It was a wonder the bright red jet of light didn't wake the other sleeping werewolves as it sped towards its target. Hoping the rest went down just as easily as the first, Sirius went back out to the others. "Got him," he told them.
"Okay," Remus said quietly. "We have to move quickly. If any one of them wakes, they'll rouse the others and we'll be outnumbered. Stun them all using non-verbal spells. We'll work on transporting them once that's done. Be careful not to trip over anything." Sirius snickered as he heard Tonks smack Remus' shoulder. When he spoke again, there was a trace of laughter in his voice. "If by chance they do begin to wake, do not hesitate. Remember, they can't see us or smell us. Just stay calm and this will go smoothly."
Remus entered through the door first and Sirius quickly followed. The Head Auror went to the very far end of the tunnel, locating the sleeping women and children. He hesitated only a second before casting silent stunning spells in quick succession over all of them. He nearly faltered in his work when he came upon a boy that couldn't have been more than two years old—he wondered faintly if the little boy had been born in the Underground or if he'd been one of Greyback's kidnapping victims. The former was more likely; it was rare a child that young survived an attack by a werewolf.
It took less than fifteen minutes before Mad-Eye called out that he'd stunned the last werewolf. Sirius took off his Disillusionment charm as he joined the others in the center of the tunnel.
"How do we know which ones go to Azkaban?" Davies asked, looking around. Sirius thought he looked a little surprised with himself.
"All the males," Remus answered. "None of the women were ever allowed to participate in the attacks. Greyback thought them too weak, and only good enough to raise the children."
Sirius snorted and grinned. "He never met Naomi and Emmeline, did he?"
Remus gave him a dark look. "Would you really have wanted him to?" he asked gravely. Sirius' grin disappeared immediately. "There are Aurors at Azkaban waiting to intercept the males. We need two people to go to St. Mungo's to meet the Healers and assist them in getting everything situated."
"Any volunteers?" Sirius asked. He rolled his eyes discreetly when Davies hand shot up in the air. Tonks slapped him in the back of the head—she claimed it was an accident—as she, too, raised her hand. "I was going to send you anyway, Tonks. Ted's in charge of all this — he'll tell you what needs to be done."
Tonks and Davies nodded, said they're good byes, and Disapparated.
"Proudfoot and Mad-Eye, you take care of transporting the women and children," Sirius said. "Savage, you'll help Remus and me with the males. Everyone knows how to use a transportation spell? Good, make sure you don't screw it up—we don't need to send anyone to the middle of a London street or something."
The transporting of the werewolves took much longer than the stunning had—transporting a person to a specific place took perfect concentration and patience. It was much like forced Apparition; you couldn't just rush through it. Remus didn't say much of anything while he worked, preferring to stay on his own side of the tunnel, avoiding Sirius' eye. The Head Auror hoped it was just Remus concentrating on what he was doing that was making him so standoffish and not something more difficult to deal with.
An hour later, the Werewolf Underground was empty save the five wizards. "Can we just burn the place?" Sirius asked.
"Why bother?" Mad-Eye asked. "Let's get out of here. Place is givin' me the creeps."
Remus raised an eyebrow. "Now you know how we feel when you take that eye of yours out for cleaning," he teased quietly. Mad-Eye grunted in response. "Obviously from Tonks' and Davies' examples, we can Disapparate from here. I'm going to join them at St. Mungo's to make sure everything is running smoothly there."
"I'll go with," Sirius said promptly. "Savage, Mad-Eye, you're free to go back to work unless you want to go with us. Proudfoot, I want you to go out to Azkaban; keep everything under control." The three wizards nodded and Disapparated a minute later.
"Shall we?" Remus asked after looking around one last time.
"Please," Sirius said. He prepared to Apparate to St. Mungo's, but noticed Remus' hesitation. "What's wrong?"
Remus sighed. "Did this seem to you at all... I don't know... like cheating?"
"Cheating?" Sirius asked.
Remus shifted uncomfortably. "We've practically kidnapped them..."
"And if they would have stayed here, those kids would have grown up to be just like the others—attacking and killing for fun. We'd still have to deal with finding mutilated bodies after the full moon. And they would have been after you for revenge. These are risks I'm not willing to take, believe it or not." Remus smiled a little. "Besides, you said yourself that if they'd been awake we would've been outnumbered. And we don't even know if they would have recognized you as the alpha or not. Chances are, they would have attacked us."
Remus nodded and ran a hand through his hair. "I suppose you're right," he said resignedly. "Sirius, thank you for coming down here with me today. I probably wouldn't have been able to do this otherwise."
Sirius thumped him on the back. "That's what best mates are for, Moony."
"What—stunning a bunch of sleeping werewolves?" Remus asked with an amused raised eyebrow.
Sirius shrugged. "Add it to our list of reasons we need to be admitted to St. Mungo's."
Remus laughed. "I'll do that," he said, smiling. "Come on, let's get to St. Mungo's so we can get back to Number Twelve soon; I've got to take the last of my Wolfsbane and get some rest before tonight..."
After Remus disappeared, Sirius had one final thought of how much differently the world could perceive werewolves if they'd all turned out like Remus. Unfortunately, his best friend was in the minority as far as civilized werewolves went. With any luck, that would change once the women and children from the Underground got used to their new lives. Eventually, in a perfect world, people wouldn't have to fear an attack when they wanted to go out on the full moon.