Disclaimer: Not Mine
A/N: Are people enjoying the story? I can't tell…review and I'll know *hint, hint* Anywho, tis chapter might be a little confusing – there're going to be flashbacks. They'll be in italics, so they're clear. Also, if anyone's confused and wants some context for the story, review with q request and I'll PM you back with an extended summary. It will be explained further into the story, though, so if you can wait…well, wait. But otherwise, don't be shy!
Chapter Four
Inn near the Spine, Road to The Grail
The fire crackled and spat on the far side of the room, devouring the two large pieces of firewood that been recently added. The sound of the door closing ended the pattering of rain that had started up a few minutes ago. The low murmur of voices went on, uninterrupted by pause. The owners of the voices were seated around the room at stout tables, leaning over wide pitchers. The flickering shadows across the low rafters may have been considered slightly eerie, if it wasn't for the irresistibly welcoming aroma of meat and gravy.
One of the men at the table nearest the door lifted a convivial hand. Another beckoned to him. Remus nodded, lowering his head, and took a seat at their table, aware of curious glances from other tables. He met the eyes of the three other men at the table, shifting on the uncomfortable wooden bench.
The man who had greeted him was short – even whilst sitting – and had a round face framed by dark curly hair streaked with grey. The man who had invited Remus to sit with them was closer to his own age and had an open, friendly face with light brown hair down to his shoulders. The third, who had only watched Remus silently so far, had a tall, thin frame that was hunched over slightly. He wore his slicked back, black hair short over dark, sharp eyes above a long, hooked nose and thin lips that were pressed together tightly. His long, thin fingers met at their tips beneath his chin as he watched the newcomer.
"I'm Paul Bridger." the large man introduced himself, offering his hand to Remus who shook is politely, restraining himself from wiping the sweat from his own hand afterwards, "That one's young Joe Tyler." Paul continued, nodding to the young man who also shook Remus's hand, "And that's Severus."
Remus returned the thin man's stare steadily.
"Severus Snape." the man expanded, "And you are?"
"Remus."
"No last name?" Snape asked with raised brows. Remus quickly realised his mistake. The others had deliberately provided two names each – Remus had no surname, but felt foolish for not following Severus's pointed example. His pause had ruined his chances of adding one, so Remus gave Severus a brief smile.
"No last name."
"Many people here will not have two names." Snape said, gesturing a long fingered hand around the room, "They won't have two, but they will provide you with two."
Remus answered with silence. Paul and Joe watched on in much the same way.
"You're new to this, I assume?"
"No." Remus answered, biting back a smart retort – he did not like this man, "A lot has changed since I was in a place like this, with people like these."
"You can't be over twenty-five." Snape observed, his brows drawing together, "So it can't have been that long ago."
Remus smiled, a little coolly, "I'm twenty-six." he corrected, but made no move to expand further. Paul cleared his throat, seeming to sense a tense atmosphere between the two strangers and decided to take one conversation in a different direction.
"What brings you here, Remus? Albus is across the province on business."
Remus smiled – it was refreshing being addressed by his own name by people other than James or Sirius, instead of 'Father', or simply 'the Priest'.
"I received a letter from—"
"Marder Snape." Paul nodded. Remus nodded, before the name clicked. He looked at Severus, who was watching something behind him, a look of distaste souring his face.
"Snape?" Remus questioned, "A relative of yours?"
Someone laid a hand on Remus's shoulder and took a seat on the bench beside him. Remus turned to see a man with black hair and a hooked nose.
"Cousin." the man said with a glance at Severus, who scowled back. Remus saw the resemblance immediately – the only differences were that of their build, Marder being built and straight-backed where Severus was thin and hunched, and Marder's hair was not slicked back but ruffled and unkempt. Marder appeared to be the elder, judging by the lines around his eyes and the smatters of greying hair at his temples.
Marder clapped Remus on the back and gave him a wide smile.
"So, what brings you to the Order?"
Remus smiled, touching a discrete hand to his chest where his cross lay beneath his shirt.
"What else, other than to bring down the Church?"
O'Grail Orphanage, The Grail, Prepotence
12 Years Ago
He stared through the bars across the landing beside the stairs, his long, thin fingers curled around the bar. The child beside him knelt down, curious too. The old, damp wooden floorboards creaked under the added pressure. The two people downstairs looked up at the sound. The other child dove away, flustered at being caught eavesdropping. The boy, however, stayed. He leant his forehead against the cool bars, his white blonde bangs sticking through the gaps. His equally cool blue eyes didn't blink as they watched the strange man speaking with the Sister in charge of the orphanage. The stranger had to have been a preacher of some kind, judging by his attire.
The man turned back to the Sister, speaking some more with her. The boy watched her glance back up at him in surprise and nodded, gesturing for the preacher to follow her. The boy watched them go silently.
Later the same day, the boy was summoned. When he arrived in the entrance hall, the stranger was there again, standing beside the sister. His hands were clasped before him and he wore friendly smile, but the expression didn't seem to suit his face. His drooped jowls shuddered as he told the Sister that she had been right – the boy was something. His mouth was a pale, thin line that struck across his face under a wide, flat nose. His lined eyes were small, dark and beady and watched the boy closely. He had a cover of thinning grey hair that was combed back in a way that revealed his receding hairline. The rest of him was round and globular and his cassock draped over him like a tent. The boy watched him silently.
The preacher held out a hand to him.
"Nice to meet you. I am Priest Fenrir. I have chosen you to be my new apprentice."
Inn near the Spine
Remus woke with his fists clenched tightly around clumps of straw and his while body tensed. He looked around, having no clue for a second as to why he had been sleeping sitting up in a stable with a large, grey horse still tacked up dozing in front of him, before he remembered the previous night; his meeting with Marder and the Order had ended earlier than he had apprehended and since he had no bed in the room he had paid for, he had ended up sitting down for a quick nap before he had to get the others to leave. Only, judging by the brightness of the sky outside, it had been more than a quick nap.
"Are you okay, sir?"
Remus turned to see the young stable boy peering over the door at him curiously.
"Stiff." the priest yawned, pushing himself to his feet and brushing himself down. He pulled his cloak around him tightly against the cool morning air and glanced up at the blue sky, briefly taking note that –for once – it wasn't raining. The further away they travelled from Hallow and the closer they got to the south, to The Grail, the more common a blue sky would become.
"What time is it?"
The stable boy glanced over his shoulder at what must have been a clock, "Seven, sir."
Remus cursed under his breath and swiftly exited the stables to head back into the inn. The barroom was deserted. Dark, dim light filtered through the dirty windows. Remus continued through and up to his room. He pushed the door open and – even though he hadn't honestly expected much – was irritated to find Sirius and Harry fast asleep on the two beds. Remus slammed the door shut and folded his arms, watching with satisfaction when the other two jolted awake. Harry stiffened, pulling his sheet up over his head whilst Sirius sat up quickly, his eyes wide.
"Oh, it's just you." Sirius muttered after clocking Remus by the door. He slumped back on his pillows with a tired groan, "Do you have to be so loud? I'm trying to sleep."
"Yes." Remus snapped, "We've slept in. Get up. Now!"
Harry obeyed immediately, as Remus knew he would, pushing his blankets down and swinging his legs over the side of his bed and yawning widely whilst sitting up. Sirius rolled over, throwing an arm over his face.
"We don't have time to spare." Remus snapped, moving to his trunk and throwing his cloak into it, "You know we have to get to The Grail in time for the dinner. We'll have to make up time in the dark tonight if we don't leave now."
"Oh, fine." Sirius mumbled, rolling off his bed and stretching slowly, "Where's my cassock?"
"Wherever you threw it last night." Remus muttered, pulling his shirt off quickly and stuffing it away on top of his trunk unceremoniously so he could close and lock it. He turned to the table, ignoring Harry who was staring at his body again when his eyes landed on his rope. With an impatient sigh, having completely forgotten about it for a moment, he turned back to his trunk and unlocked it again to put away the rope. He wouldn't be wearing it today – he was in no mood to be in pain for another day of journeying, especially when he was meeting up with Order. He pulled out his cassock and pulled it on, leaning down to button the long length of buttons before he could slip his white tab into his collar.
Yanking his hair back roughly into a band, Remus turned to the others and was placated to find them both ready. Sirius was whispering something to Harry, who looked pale, whilst stepping into his shoes and locking up his trunk.
"Whatever you're saying to him, stop it." Remus told Sirius with narrowed eyes. Sirius spread his hands innocently, shaking his head in mock disappointment.
"So the kid asks me a question and I get bollocked for answering."
Remus saw Harry send Sirius a hot glare when he thought no one was looking but turned to Sirius instead, raising his brows in impatient question.
"What question?"
"He just asked about the scars on your back."
Remus looked away, his jaw tensing. He brushed his bangs from his face that had already managed to escape from his hair tie and moved his gaze to Harry, who was fidgeting uncomfortably.
"Go and find Louise. Tell her we need these trunks moved as soon as possible, our coach ready to go and our supplies for the road. Now!" he snapped when Harry failed to move at a speed that pleased him. The boy nodded and scurried from the room hurriedly, closing the door quietly behind him. Remus turned to Sirius, whose expression turned serious at what he saw in his eyes.
"Are you trying to turn him against me?"
Sirius clasped his hands behind his back and raised a single, innocent eyebrow.
"Why would I do that?"
"Why would you turn the last two apprentices I've had?" Remus retorted. Sirius's only response was a small, self-satisfied smirk. "Why are you so set against me training a deacon?"
"You think too much of yourself," Sirius answered, turning to open the door, "My life does not revolve around yours. Let's go. Like you said, we're running late as it is."
Remus watched him leave, silently seething. The Archdeacon was deliberately intimidating his students – before now, he had not been overly troubled by it, but Harry was perfect for what he needed and if he was torn from his grasp before Remus could integrate him in his plans, Sirius would find himself in the boy's position instead.
O'Grail Orphanage, The Grail, Prepotence
12 years ago
"Stand in the centre of the room, in the light." Priest Fenrir said with another forced smile, "So that I may see you better."
The boy did as he was told and stood in the middle of the room from which the Sister had vanished, to give them time to talk before he was to pack his things and leave for this stranger man's house. According to the Sister he was a priest from the other side of the Province capital, The Grail, and wanted a new face. The reason for a 'new face' had not being given. The boy had not asked.
"Sister Camellia told me that you were never given a name." the Priest said quietly. The boy glanced up – sure enough, several of the other boys were watching from the landing, grasping at the bars, curious as to why anyone had taken such an interest in him.
"Do you know why that is?"
The boy made no answer.
"Your mother didn't want any part of you associated with her. Not even your name."
The boy, again, made no reply. He had already been told this by many spiteful adults wishing to hurt him. What they didn't realise was that he already knew that his mother wanted nothing to do with him. If she had, he wouldn't be in the orphanage – in his eyes, it was simple and he didn't understand why being told the truth should hurt him. It hurt the other boys plenty. Sometimes, he could hear them weeping into their pillows at night, begging God for a new family.
He, however, understood that most of them had been born from wedlock, which was against the law, or into a family that already possessed a child. Everyone knew that one child was all a married couple was allowed. Any excess infants were turned orphanages. If they weren't, the mother would be blamed in the humiliation and shame of the father and she would be out on the street with her sinful babe, left to beg for food and mostly likely starve to death.
The boy couldn't understand why the other boys didn't understand this as well as he did. The Sister was always reminding them and the boy was the only one who didn't need reminding. He couldn't understand why people would do things that inconvenienced others, why they dared to disobey the law and, therefore, their God.
"I had to give up my last name when I joined the Church." the Priest went on, his eyes never leaving the boy, "It shows God that we belong to no one but Him. In this, we are the same."
The Priest's smile faded to be replaced with a dark stare at the wall behind the boy. It passed after a brief moment and the smile reappeared. The boy stood still, his gaze staying forward, burning into the opposite wall.
"You're perfect." the Priest said from behind him. The boy felt a cold, rough-skinned finger trail down the nape of his neck. A shiver flowed through the boy from the last point of contact to the end of his spine. "Pale, almost translucent skin; long, blonde hair; innocent, blue eyes...you're even built like a girl, with your tall, slim, willowy form. I wonder if you realise any of this, boy?"
The boy didn't make any reaction. The Priest came around so he could see him again.
"Most would ask why I would comment on such a thing."
The boy made no comment.
"Ah," the Priest breathed, "Sister Camellia told me you don't speak often. That will be a strength between us. You will be an obedient addition to my household."
The boy made a small nod in affirmation.
"Good," Priest Fenrir murmured, curling a lock of the boy's hair around a scarred finger, "No one will know you where you're going so I will give you a name to be recognised by when we arrive in the South of The Grail. You won't have a surname, because my occupation has deprived me of one, but I'm sure any amount of names will be treat enough for you. Now, go up to your room and pack your things. You're coming with me."
The boy bowed his head and made his way upstairs. Inside one of the bedrooms, the group of boys who had been watching from the landing were waiting on their beds, the ones who slept in other rooms perched on his. They stared at him, obviously wanting to know the meaning of the Priest's visit, but no one bothered to ask, knowing that they would receive no answer. The boy was just as curious as to why he had been chosen, but Priest Fenrir had not told him. If he was not meant to know then he would make peace with ignorance.
The Spine, Road to The Grail
The three men sat on the edge of a river bank, unwrapping their lunches of cold meat cuts and bread whilst their driver fed and watered the horses. Sirius was sipping from a suspicious-looking hipflask whilst Harry was down by the riverside, filling water skins for him and Remus. The Priest was watching the clouds silently, leant back against a rock protruding the soft ground. He had just woken from a short nap, being unable to sleep in the coach – the rocking motion only made him feel nauseous, so he read in order to distract himself. His eyes slid to Harry, who was making his way back over.
That had been the second time in as many days that Remus had dreamt of his childhood. Of him. The fact disturbed him greatly. He had a vague idea of why the memories were resurfacing in his subconscious and the vague idea was sitting beside him right that moment, handing him a wet water skin. Remus took a gulp of the cold, refreshing water, looking sideways at his new apprentice. The memories had not resurfaced with his other apprentices, but then, none of the others had been quite so promising as Harry was proving himself to be. More and more with each passing day.
"Are you missing your home, yet?" Remus asked, looking away from Harry as the kid looked at him suddenly. The Priest watched as Sirius flopped onto his back on the grass, closing his eyes and folding his arms under his head.
"Not really...not yet." Harry answered after a moment, "I am a little worried about how Sister Grace will cope at the orphanage without me."
"You were too old to stay for much longer, anyway." Sirius observed. Harry answered with a short shrug, before seeming to realise that his silent response could have been considered rude by Remus and instead replied that there were a couple of troublesome cases that he always dealt with, one just a few years younger than himself. Remus listened with half of his attention on what he had seen before he had awoken. He sincerely hoped that these dreams would not affect his work with the boy.
South of The Grail
12 years ago
As the boy unpacked his meagre belongings in his new room – a room that he alone would be sleeping in, without a noisy gaggle of dim-witted boys – the priest entered without knocking.
"I want you to wear this. We're going out."
The boy nodded at Priest Fenrir, glancing at the outfit that had been placed on the small bed. It was a three pieced suit, made up of a black jacket, a deep blue cummerbund and a matching bowtie, along with a crisp white shirt and black dress trousers. The boy's eyes lingered. He had never before seen such new, clean clothes. The orphanage had only been able to clothe him in second hand things, always either too big or damaged in some way by their last owner.
"Your name," the Priest said from behind him as the boy took his things from his tattered trunk, "Will be the name of my grandfather. You have the same look as he does in the pictures of his youth. Where we're going, the resemblance will be noted."
A dry chuckled came from the Priest, "Your name will be Remus."
The boy blinked at such an unusual name.
"Remus was the name of one of the twins who, in ancient legend, founded Rome. Remus was killed by his brother over a quarrel about where to build the city." the Priest smiled, stroking his own bare chin, "Take this name as a challenge; we shall see if you can survive whoever turns out to be your Romulus, young Remus."
In little more than an hour, Remus had bathed, combed his hair through and dressed in the three piece. He felt fresh and clean – the cleanest he had ever been, completely rid of the layer of filth he was forever encompassed in. The Priest looked up at him, dressed in his own formalwear, a smile creeping across his face. He laid a hand on his large stomach as his eyes roamed over Remus's sylphlike figure, accented by the cummerbund. Remus swept his hair from his eyes. Strands were already slipping from the tie, as they always, so stubbornly, had. The Priest approached him and pulled the tie out, tossing it onto the dining table. He combed his fingers through Remus's hair, letting it fall over his shoulders, framing his defined features.
"They will adore you."
A/N2: Is this getting too creepy? Review and let me know!