A/N: This is my last A/N for Carny. I am not going to spoil the mood going from the end of this chapter and into the epilogue. So, if it's a bit wordy, understand that it is because I'm a bit overwhelmed right now. I never finish anything that takes more than a few days to do. So the thought of writing something actually book-length, over a period of several months, was foreign to me. It was nearly laughable. So, the fact that I've brought this thing to completion is amazing to me.
Thanks and hugs to Zarathustra for her hard work. She was the only one willing to touch this story to beta it, and my appreciation is boundless. Thanks and even more hugs to SortingHat47, a friend without measure, who encouraged me from the very beginning that this story was a good one and that I could finish it!
Thanks to remuslives23 and Wolviesfan who inspire me and push me to think of more plotlines to sink our beloved Remus into--and send me wonderful pictures of David Thewlis (whose fingers and eyes have also inspired me greatly)!
Thanks to everyone else who reviewed all along this epic. A review really does make a huge difference, and your support and comments kept me going. (I'm talking to you, especially: allycat1186, PopstarJ01, Crescent-Moon-Love, floss bucket, KnightMara, taigne, Alaramine, Captain Cactus, furrylittlesecret, cherry-s-twin, and sonoralie! And also: Liv Naravul, , Aloha (), wrappedinharry, Southerns, merlinssister12, Lerra, Ecilla, anna_cat (), Missus Moony, TheMaraudersWillLiveForever, and MahsaFF). Special thanks to those of you who put this on alert as well. It makes a writer feel great knowing that someone is actually anticipating a new chapter of something you're writing!
Disclaimer: The characters Remus Lupin, Alastor Moody, Albus Dumbledore, and Sirius Black are not mine. Neither James nor Peter are mine either. They were all created by JKRowling, who has gotten all the money and glory.
Chapter 30: Full Circle
Thursday, 15 May, 1986—8:34 p.m.
Alastor Moody knocked sharply on the door and fiddled with the wand in his pocket. He waited for a moment then rapped again. A voice suddenly answered, but it wasn't from behind the door.
"Can I help you?"
The Auror looked down toward the bottom of the stairs and saw a small, grey-haired woman standing there with a crocheted shawl wrapped around her shoulders.
"I was looking for Lupin — Remus," the older man corrected himself.
"Remus?"
"He means me, Mrs Sheffield," Remus said, coming through the wrought iron gate behind her, carrying a shopping bag in one arm, and his backpack slung over one shoulder.
"You told me your name was John," she said in an accusatory tone.
"Remus is my first name — an old family name. It's not one that I use if I can help." He smiled at her, and Moody chuckled to himself at the boy's obvious charm. "What self-respecting bloke lets himself be called 'Remus'? The chaps down at the warehouse will think me bent for sure." He winked saucily at her, and she smiled.
"Well, John is a fine, strong name. You know that John was my husband's name?" she asked.
"So you've said." She turned slightly, and Remus rolled his eyes, letting Moody know that the woman had said it probably a dozen times.
"You do know him?" the woman spoke in a slightly quieter voice, looking back at Remus but jerking her head in Moody's direction.
"As a matter of fact, I do," Remus said, with a smile. "This is my uncle, Alastor Moody. Uncle Alastor, won't you come down and meet Mrs Sheffield?"
Boy's as cheeky as they come. Needs bringing down a peg or two.
"You're going to make me come down those steps with my bad leg being what it is?"
"Sorry, Uncle Alastor." In a voice just loud enough to carry up the stairs, Remus said, "He lost his leg in the war. Gets around amazingly well, but likes us to feel sorry for him. You know how those old soldiers are."
"Poor dear," Mrs Sheffield said, shaking her head. "I'll meet him another time. No reason to make him come all the way down the steps just to meet me. Here, wait a minute…" She stepped back inside the doorway leading into her rooms.
"Lupin!" Moody said warningly through clenched teeth.
Remus grinned at him and held up a long finger, signalling him to wait. A moment later, the older woman came back out through the door and handed Remus a plate covered by another.
"Here are some biscuits for the two of you. Now you make sure you bring your uncle by for tea some day, understand me, young John?"
"Absolutely," Remus smiled warmly at her and bobbed his head in her direction. "You're a wonderful woman, Mrs Sheffield." He leaned closer and whispered loudly, "You know, my uncle's a widower. You could do worse…"
"Get on with you, you cheeky thing!" She giggled and slapped Remus on the arm. With a wave in Alastor's direction, she retreated back through her door, closing it firmly behind her.
"I am going to bloody hex you into next week, Lupin," Moody commented, feeling unaccustomed heat flush his face as the younger man came up the stairs, the plates held carefully in his hands.
"Wait until you taste her biscuits, then tell me you wouldn't marry her in a heartbeat," Remus said, fumbling for his key.
"'Uncle Alastor,' though?"
Wide blue eyes were turned to him. "Don't you want a werewolf as a nephew?" A smirk quickly replaced the look of innocence. "I could tell her you're my lover, instead…"
"Humping Hippogriffs," Moody rolled his good eye, and his magical eye swirled so rapidly in its socket that he felt dizzy. The younger man was still struggling to get his key out of his pocket, so Alastor looked around and, seeing no prying eyes, pointed at the lock. "Alohomora," he whispered.
The door opened immediately. "No reason to make things difficult," the Auror said, seeing Remus' quick look of alarm.
"I don't want to get used to doing things like that," Remus said, leading the way into the flat. "I'll forget myself some time, and I really don't want to have to explain things to either Mrs Sheffield or an Obliviator."
He pointed at the light switch on the wall and snapped his fingers, and the overhead light came on. He grinned at Moody (Incorrigible bastard!) and then went to the kitchen area, leaving the older man to glance around.
It was a small place; Remus hadn't understated it. Might have overstated it, in fact. Still, it was clean and neat. The new paint on the walls probably hid a multitude of sins. The curtains were ragged at the hems and faded, but serviceable, as was the carpet on the floor.
Moody gingerly sat down on a chair covered by what appeared to be a bedspread. "Wouldn't figure this to be your decorating style, Lupin," he said. He settled back into the chair, finding it extremely comfortable.
"It's all Mrs Sheffield's doing," Remus said. "When I told her I didn't have much furniture to move in, she found these pieces upstairs. Had to manhandle the damned things down the stairs though, because she was watching me."
The Auror chuckled.
"Right, you can laugh," the younger man said scornfully. "Nearly broke my bloody foot when I dropped that chair on it." He brought the plate of biscuits over and placed it on a small end table between the chair and the settee. "Here, I'll get us some tea."
"No, wait." Moody suddenly reached into the pocket of his long coat and pulled out a bottle of scotch. "I thought I'd bring something along in honour of the occasion."
"Then let me get the glasses."
They worked their way through half the plate of cookies and half the bottle of alcohol while they talked. Suddenly a thumping beneath them interrupted Remus' story about a Norwegian ship rat that had attacked one of the warehouse workers.
The young man got up. "I'll be back. Mrs Sheffield needs me. It should only take a minute or two."
"If it only takes a minute or two, you're not doing it right," Moody said.
Remus laughed, his blue eyes dancing at the innuendo. "She's old enough to be my grandmother, for Merlin's sake! She probably just can't reach something, and as I happen to be taller than everyone else around her, I get the honours."
"That's a relief," Moody said, taking another drink of scotch. "I was hoping you weren't quite that desperate for a shag."
Remus gave him a two-fingered response and headed downstairs.
While he was gone, Moody went to work. Starting at the front door, then making his way around the apartment, he muttered nearly continuously, until white threads were webbed in all directions around the flat. Glancing around to make sure everything was in place, he muttered a last incantation and made an intricate gesture with his wand. The filaments glowed brightly for a moment and then disappeared.
Smiling at his success, the Auror went back to his chair and waited for the young man to return.
Saturday, 24 May
There were several men and women in the small office at the Ministry, but Albus Dumbledore mostly kept his eyes on Alastor Moody. If he hadn't known any better, he'd have sworn that the Auror was nervous about something. The wizard seemed to be listening to the reports and comments that were being made, but his gaze kept going to the tip of his wand, as if he expected it to do something.
"Now, who did they say was leading this coterie of vampires?" someone asked.
"A vampire by the name of Raoul Martineau. I think he will be reasonable," one of the witches replied.
Moody looked up. "By 'reasonable,' do you mean he's not likely to suck every last drop of blood from our contact's veins?"
They all had a laugh, and several more minutes passed as more plans were formulated then discarded, but Dumbledore remained intrigued by Moody's behaviour. Even as he plotted and schemed and argued with the others, the Auror's eyes kept returning to the tip of his wand, which remained dark. He started glancing periodically at the clock on the wall, giving it increasingly deep frowns.
One of the other Ministry workers finally sighed. "We'll have to send someone to talk to Martineau, then, and to that vampire in Romania—what's his name again?"
"Antonescu," snapped Moody. He straightened and suddenly grabbed the grey cloak that he had worn in to shield himself from the rain that had been falling that morning. "Listen, I have to go check on something. Can we meet tomorrow afternoon to finish this?"
"We can finish here while you take care of whatever it is," Dumbledore said. "I'll give you the information after you come back.
The Auror hesitated and then gave a curt nod. "All right, then." He left quickly without another word.
After an hour, things seemed to be settled to everyone's satisfaction, and the men and women began to leave the office. Dumbledore assured them that he'd wait for Moody to return and tell him their plans. When the last wizard had left the office, Hogwarts' Headmaster carefully returned the maps to their cases and the reports to their folders. He was just finishing when a familiar silver patronus glided into the room. "Meet me at my place," it said with Moody's customary growl.
Less than twenty minutes later, Dumbledore found himself in a chair in Alastor Moody's front room, with a glass of wine in his hand.
The Auror sat down in his leather chair and sipped at his own glass of wine. "I'd about had it with Mulhearn. He can't speak unless he uses words of more than ten letters. And Lloyd can't use words of more than four letters — I was sick of translating."
"Is that why you left, then?" Dumbledore asked, with a smile. "To leave the task of translation to me?"
"Did it work?"
"I'd say it did. We settled some details…" Albus then took a few minutes to tell what had happened since the Moody had left them. When he had finished, he swirled the wine gently in the glass, and asked, "So you left because you were sick of Mulhearn and Lloyd?"
Moody shrugged. "Full moon was last night. I realised that Lupin hadn't got back to his flat, so I went to check on him."
"I saw you looking at your wand…" Dumbledore's voice tapered off, insinuating a question.
"Last week, when I went to Lupin's flat, I laid out a variation of an Auror's Dark magic traps: the ones that let us know when Dark magic is being used within the spell's perimeters. I was hoping that when I activated the threads, the Dark that's in him would trigger the wards, making the tip of my wand light up and I'd know when he got home."
"And you did this because —?"
"I'd know if he got home."
Dumbledore thought about Moody's distress as time had passed and nothing had happened. "You knew, then, that Remus hadn't made it home, and you went to find him."
The Auror nodded.
"How is he?" Albus asked.
"He's asleep now," Moody replied, evading the question.
"Does he know that you've made his flat into a Dark magic trap?" Dumbledore smiled at the description, but it didn't quite touch his eyes.
"Hells, no, Albus! He'd never stand for it if he knew."
"Aren't you concerned he'll figure it out now that you've gone to his assistance?"
"He's not capable of figuring it out at this moment," the Auror said bluntly. "And before he does start thinking about it, I'll tell him that I stopped in to check on him, he wasn't home, and then I went to the barn to see if he was still there. It's all perfectly logical."
"Will it seem logical to Remus?" Dumbledore mused. "If he suspects what you've done, Alastor…"
"He shouldn't," Moody said with a smirk. "He'd have to be extremely lucky or devilishly clever to come up with the counter-spell to those wards."
The Headmaster stroked his beard gently, not saying anything.
"Besides," the Auror continued, becoming more serious, "I'll only have to hide them for a few months, more than likely."
Dumbledore gave him a quizzical glance.
"He's giving himself only seven months until he loses his job at the warehouse, and nine months until he has to move out of the flat."
"Alastor!"
Moody shrugged then chuckled dryly. "Those are his words, not mine. He's got a bloody good sense of gallows humour. You should have heard him this morning when —" He abruptly silenced himself as a sudden thump came from overhead. He looked up at the ceiling, waited a moment, muttered something about stubborn fools, and then yelled, "Lupin, keep your arse in bed! You hear me?"
"He's upstairs?"
"He was in no shape to be home by himself," Moody said, still watching the ceiling. "Damn it, that git is going to —"
He was out of his chair and heading for the stairs before the crash.
Albus followed the Auror up the stairs at a little slower pace, so he just caught the end of Moody's castigation: "… break open and you'll lose blood that you damned well can't afford to lose!"
Remus' voice was weak, but there was a note of amusement as he said, "Do you suppose if I lose all of it, I won't be a werewolf anymore?" He suddenly realised that someone else was there and looked up at the Headmaster with a lopsided grin. "Hullo, sir."
"Hello, Remus. How are you feeling?"
The werewolf actually chuckled. "I was feeling rather awful. Now I'm feeling bloody terrible."
"Stupid bugger," Alastor said, reaching down and pulling an unsteady Remus to his feet. "Now, get back in that bed. Don't know what you were thinking —"
"I was thinking I could at least make it to the loo," the younger man replied. "I didn't realise I was so weak."
That started Moody into another round of curses and rebukes, but by the time he had run out of verbal steam, he had helped Remus into the bathroom. After he had closed the door, he looked at the Headmaster and growled, "Too stubborn for his own effing good."
"How the two of you have managed to get along so well has mystified me," Dumbledore teased gently.
"It's probably a bloody miracle we haven't killed each other."
"Not that you haven't tried with that miserable concoction you call rhubarb crumble," Remus called through the door.
"I'll have you know that my mother used to make it that way," Moody shot back.
There was silence.
"Did you hear me, boy?"
"I'm trying not to say anything that will insult your mum and get me hexed into oblivion." There was a bump and a muffled curse.
"Lupin?"
A few seconds ticked by, and then Remus said, rather shakily, "Alastor, I think I need some help."
The Auror immediately went into the room, leaving the Headmaster where he was, listening to the resulting conversation.
"Hell's bells, boy! You're as pale as a ghost!"
"Gods, I almost wish I was one. I wouldn't feel so wretched and helpless."
"You nearly bled to death out there. What did you expect?" The door swung fully open and the two men staggered out into the hallway. Remus was leaning heavily against the older wizard, one arm around Moody's shoulders.
Dumbledore chuckled to himself as he listened to the exchange of swearing and witty retorts, threats and mildly self-deprecating comments as they made their way into the guest bedroom.
"Albus, fetch the Blood-Replenisher from that shelf," Moody ordered, with a vague toss of his hand in the right direction.
The Headmaster did as Alastor demanded, and handed the vial to Remus once the younger wizard was settled back in the bed.
"You didn't have time to put wolfsbane in this after my comment about the rhubarb crumble, did you?" Remus asked, smiling lopsidedly at the Auror.
"No, but you might not want to eat the soup I bring up for you later."
With a broader grin, the werewolf downed the potion and handed the empty bottle back to Dumbledore. As he did, the Headmaster couldn't help but look into the blue eyes and think of a time at St. Mungo's, when Remus was refusing to take any kind of potions.
Slowly, but surely, Remus had found comfort, had regained his strength, had received forgiveness — and now, he had rediscovered trust.
Wednesday, 4 June, 1986—8:25 a.m.
"Welcome to the Ministry of Magic. Please state your name and business."
"Remus Lupin, werewolf, here for the annual interview and inspection."
"Thank you. Please take the badge and attach it to the front of your clothing."
As Remus pinned the silver badge with the red W onto his shirt, the voice continued, "Visitor to the Ministry, as a werewolf, you are required to relinquish your wand at the security desk, which is located at the far end of the Atrium. You will be able to retrieve it when you leave the premises."
The young man took a deep breath, trying to steady his nerves as he left the telephone box that served as the entrance to the Ministry, and started through the Atrium. The last time he'd been here was when he'd taken the Portkey to Greece with Dumbledore. He chose to concentrate on that time, because otherwise he'd have to think of other things.
It had been a full year since he'd been here for his last physical — the one in which he'd met Bernard Carmichael face to face.
His wand was weighed and he verified it was his. Then it was placed in the special box reserved for the wands of those who were restricted from carrying them inside the Ministry. He was now virtually defenceless. Not completely, perhaps, because Moody had shown him a few spells that he could do without a wand.
It had been a full year to the day since Carmichael had come to take him out of Alatza's shed.
He started toward the lifts, taking a deep breath, choosing to ignore the squeak of fear from the witch who happened to look at the badge pinned to his shirt.
It had been a full year…
"YOU!" The pronoun was spat with such disdain and hatred that Remus recoiled before he even realised that the venom was being directed at him. "You've done this to me!"
It had been a full year since he'd first been dropped at this man's feet.
The man's moustache was nowhere near as neat as Remus remembered it, and the beard was new and unkempt. An attempt had been made to comb the man's hair, but it was greasy and limp. The well-tailored clothing hung untidily on his once ample frame.
"I've done nothing to you, Mr Bentley," Remus said calmly, even though his stomach was twisting into shapes he knew he'd never recognize.
Bentley twisted his head to glare over his shoulder as the two Magical Law Enforcement wizards hustled him toward the lifts. "Ever since you were taken away, it's just been one bloody mess after another —"
"Blame Parsons," Remus called after him.
"Bloody, effing Parsons —" There was a string of invectives that Remus couldn't hear, and then suddenly, among all the vitriol, Remus realised he had heard: "— Black won't give me a moment's peace —"
He darted forward, dodging around other Ministry workers, trying to get closer to Bentley and his escorts. They were already in the lift…
"Wait!" he shouted. "Did you say Sirius Black?" He was too far away to stop them, he knew. A few people gave him frightened looks at the sound of the infamous criminal's name.
Bentley looked at him and there was fear in the man's dark eyes.
One of the MLE men pressed a button...
"Says he'll rip my throat out for what I've done to you!" Bentley snarled. "And I didn't lay one finger on you! He's mad! Threatens to —"
The door closed.
Remus stood very still for a long moment, letting others push past him.
"Lupin."
The name snapped him out of his thoughts and his memories, and he turned to see Alastor Moody.
"You all right? You look like you've seen a ghost."
"Gerald Bentley —"
The Auror grunted. "Sorry. Thought I'd warned you about him, that he was coming in today for another hearing. This is the third one —"
Remus lost track of the words, and Moody's voice faded into the background noise. All he could think of right now was being curled in the dirt at Bentley's feet, torn and bloody…
A hard punch in the arm brought him to reality quickly and with quite a bit of pain.
"You didn't need to do that!" he said loudly to the Auror as he rubbed the bruised muscle.
"I did. I was afraid you were going to have one of those flashbacks again, and you really don't need to get into that state of mind now," Moody snapped. "Now, are you all right? Are you with me?"
Remus nodded quickly. "What time is it? I need to get upstairs."
"It's about ten 'til nine. I'll ride up with you."
Remus shrugged—there wasn't much he could do to dissuade Moody—and turned toward the lifts and within seconds, they had reached the floor with Werewolf Registry.
"I'll come back and check on you later," Moody said, standing sideways at the entrance so the door wouldn't close yet. The two other people who had risked riding in the lift with a werewolf shifted restlessly inside the little box.
"You don't have to."
The Auror chuckled once. "I know I don't have to; I want to. Now, remember, you've been through hell and back — at least twice. You can handle this." He suddenly looked at one of the wizards standing in the back of the lift, one who had just cleared his throat quite loudly. "You know, if you need to get that frog out of your throat, I've got just the spell for it."
Horror appeared on the man's face.
Moody turned back to Remus and gave him a wink. "Don't let the bastards get you down." He stepped back inside the lift and jabbed at the button while saying over his shoulder, "Patience is a bleeding virtue, you —"
The door slid shut on the rest of Moody's sentence. Remus stood for a moment, staring at the panels and smiling broadly. But then he turned and looked down the long hallway toward the Registry office and felt his smile die.
I can do this.
It had been a year since he'd been down this hallway…
I'm NOT going to let them get to me…
It had been a year since his feet had led him down this corridor, past that office, that door…
James would have said, "It's not going to be like last year, Moony."
Gods, I hope not.
… A year since he'd been at the mercy of the Ministry workers and the bloody damned werewolf hunter…
Peter would have said, "Carmichael won't be here, Moony, so you don't have to worry about him."
Bastard. I'm not afraid of Carmichael. I'm not.
… A year since the nightmare that had been Bentley and Parsons Carnival of Dark and Dangerous Creatures had begun...
"But you made it, Moony." Sirius' voice was like a whisper in his ear. "You showed those sons of bitches you were stronger than they gave you credit for."
Much had happened — much had changed in the past year. Much had been taken from Remus, but he had found more things that he had thought were lost to him: friendship, redemption, hope…
Remus straightened his shoulders.
"You can do this, Moony," Sirius said firmly.
You know what? I can do this. "You're absolutely right, Padfoot," he whispered to himself, and he smiled as he reached for the doorknob to let himself in to the Registry office.