Chapter 87: Auribus Teneo Lupum*

13 May 1980

Galloway Forest, Scotland

"You're not watching for my tells." Hermione shifted her feet, circling Remus. "Watch me. Try to figure out what I'm going to do."

They traded spells, blocking each other's moves. "I'm fucking trying," Remus spoke through gritted teeth.

"Are you looking at my feet? What about my shoulders?"

"I'm looking at all of you, Merlin's beard—"

"My face?"

"Hermione, fucking stop for a second." He threw up his arms, walking a few paces away, missing the effect of his words and tone on Hermione. When he turned back, she was moving again, walking back to the tent. "Where are you going?"

"I'm done for today," she sighed, not bothering to stop.

"What?"

She reeled around, eyes alight. "When I say look for my weaknesses, I don't mean that one. I hate when you do that."

"Do what?"

"The voice."

"Voice?"

"Remus—"

"Hermione, I honestly don't know what you're on about."

"Moony's voice. You use Moony's voice against me, to-to command me because Pup listens."

"Command—"

"You literally did it the other day and just now, too," she growled out. "When you command me to stop, I stop. I freeze. I cannot move. Your words make my body listen."

"Wait," he closed his eyes for a second. "I made you?"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "It's a command from Moony. Pup listens to him. We've been over this."

Remus took a step back, burned. Eyes wide, his face started to lose color. Hermione blinked at him.

"Oh."

"I had no idea I was doing it, I swear. You have to believe me, Hermione. I would never—" He choked on his words. "—never want to force you to do anything."

She sighed. "I know."

Remus looked down at his feet, his cheeks heating as the bottom of his stomach dropped. His right hand tightened around his wand. "I'm so sorry." He raised his eyes to her. "I'll watch myself more closely, I promise. I won't—I won't do it again."

"I thought you knew when you did it."

Remus shook his head.

Hermione chewed at her lip. "Then all I can ask is that you try, okay?"

Remus nodded.

"Okay." She sniffed. "Okay. Let's, er, let's just go ahead and pack up. We can get moving."

They packed up camp in silence and didn't speak again until they stopped for lunch.

14 May 1980

Galloway Forest, Scotland

Stretched out in his sleep, suddenly Remus' whole body snapped to attention so violently Hermione half-awoke in the bed beside him.

"What is it?"

"There's something out there." Remus stared unseeing into the darkness.

"It's probably nothing. Just-just try to go back to sleep, okay?" Hermione rolled over.

But Remus could feel it, in the back of his neck and the shadow of his spine. Something was out there, and it was watching.

They took the morning in stride, a slow start and breakfast followed by a bit of dueling. Then, they packed up camp, took down the wards and started to walk. Hermione talked, distracting from the repetition of steady steps, but Remus only ever half-listened. He kept his ears trained on the trees, his eyes constantly scanning. He had sensed something, maybe someone, the night before. He knew it. He felt it. They weren't alone in these woods.

And like he willed it into existence, on a scan of the latticework of tree trunks around them, a pair of glowing golden eyes appeared. Remus missed a step.

"You okay?" Hermione's hand gripped at his elbow.

"Don't stop," Remus whispered, so softly anyone else couldn't have heard. Hermione blinked, quieting instantly but keeping her steps steady. "There's someone out there."

"Following?"

"Yes."

Hermione tightened the knot keeping her beaded bag on her belt. "How long?"

"Dunno. A while maybe? They may be what woke me last night."

Hermione closed her eyes. "You were right. Shit. We should have left last night."

The slightest shake to Remus' head. "Wouldn't have helped. They were already tracking us."

"How many?"

Remus did another scan. Another pair of eyes, then another. And another.

"At least four, maybe more." He breathed in deep. "Can't tell how many exactly, but they're werewolves."

"What do we do? Run, fight, apparate away?"

"It's likely members of this pack, right? We shouldn't run, or-or leave."

"Right or left?"

"Both, we're surrounded."

"So, we face them."

Remus hummed. "Your wand?"

"I'm ready. Whatever happens."

"Okay." The world around them rustled, their trackers apparently confident enough not to hide their noise. "Ready or not, here they come."

Lights of magic appeared first, stunning jets shot through the trees, separating the two as they lunged and rolled away. Wands drawn, Hermione and Remus rose to their feet prepared to fight, but they were simply outnumbered. From the treeline emerged eight figures, some carried wands while some wielded daggers in hand. From the corner of her eye, Hermione spotted a bow pulled taught.

"Lower your wands." One of the figures pulled back their hood to reveal a woman with a head of thick brown hair. "That's right. All t'way there, lassie. There you go. Now tell me, how are you in our woods?"

"Please, we're looking for the pack of werewolves that live in this forest. That's-that's you all, right?"

"Aye, an' now you've found us."

Hermione glanced to her right at an arrow pointed in her face. "We've been—"

"Deirdre." A tall, bulky man with a thick red beard strode up to Remus, looking him over. "It's no matter. Lachlann'll be wanting to talk to 'em himself."

The woman, Deirdre, nodded and jerked her chin toward the others that surrounded them. As they moved on Hermione and Remus, she addressed them again. "We outnumber you and we ken these woods as ours. For now, we've got nae reason to harm, so dinnae give us one."

Hermione swallowed, her eyes finding Remus' as she nodded. His jaw was tight, but his gaze was strong as he nodded, too. Hermione sighed and kept his gaze as her wand and bag were taken from her. They didn't bother with tying their hands or separating them. They were outnumbered and without their wands, and there was no way Hermione would leave her beaded bag behind.

"Walk on." A gruff voice behind them. "Follow after Deirdre."

Remus bumped his shoulder into Hermione as if to pass on a bit of surety. She nudged him back, and then they started to walk, silent again in their steps with a pack of wolves around them.

Out of the trees, they saw the ruins of a castle, moss climbing and covering the walls that still stood. Hermione could just barely see the remnants of a great hall, one corner of an archway in a broken reach to the sky. A thick layer of fog rolled over the grounds out onto the lake it looked over. They stepped into the fog, their visions clouded for but a moment, and then it was clear. And in the place of the ruins was a castle, proud, grand and standing strong.

Remus felt a shove at his back, not realizing he had stopped to gawk at the castle before him. He stumbled forward, a voice behind his barking out a short laugh.

"Welcome to Castle MacTire, cù sassunnach."

Castle MacTire

When they were herded into the great hall of the keep, a crowd was already gathered, lining the edges of the room. Long wooden tables were positioned along the hall, keeping the center space clear, but no one sat. For the moment, attention was held by two figures standing at the end of the hall. There was a man, in his thirties or forties, it was hard to tell, and a girl in the midst of her teenage years. The air was solemn, sacred, but the arrival of Hermione and Remus and the soldiers at their back broke the moment. All eyes turned to them.

"Ceann." One of their captors stepped forward. "We found these two lurking near the bound'ry."

The man at the head of the hall stepped forward. Instantly, Hermione and Remus could feel the impact of his influence. Everything in the hall shifted. The deference, the power, the respect this man held. He was important, significant. The crowd in the hall moved as he moved, like a collective ocean. Only Hermione and Remus were anchored against the pull. He stepped forward to meet them.

"Tapadh leibh," he spoke, addressing those that held Remus and Hermione before he turned his gaze to them. He looked them over slowly, his eyes moving between as if he could see the thread that tied them close. His gaze focused and he squared his shoulder. "English?"

Remus and Hermione shared a glance. "Yes," Remus spoke up. "Er, yes, we've come from England. We don't mean to intrude, but—"

The man held up a hand and Remus' voice petered out. "I am Lachlann, chief of the name MacTire." His voice was deep, strong and grounded. His chin was raised, but his face was calm, a certain warmth lingering in the corner of his gaze. "And you are?"

"Hermione."

"Remus."

Lachlann's eyes widened slightly, a hint of warmth. "And how did you find yourselves among us here? Who sent you? The Ministry?"

"No, sir." Remus found his voice again. "We are not from the Ministry, but we have come a long way to find you. We come by word of Redmond Murphy and John Harding."

A heartbeat of a moment, the gathered crowd watching for Lachlann's reaction. The warmth stretched out from the corners of his eyes, and like a ripples, the entire room seemed to breath again.

"Eòin? You know John?"

"We've only just left him," Hermione said. "He and Red took us in for the past month, and they told us of a pack, a-a clan of wolves here in the woods of Scotland. They said you follow the old ways and we've come to learn what we can."

Lachlann looked to her, unreadable thoughts on his face as he nodded at her. "Hermione." He turned to Remus. "Remus. Your ainm anama?"

Remus blinked, glancing at Hermione. "Er, sorry?"

"Ainm anama?" Lachlann took a moment to find words to explain. "When we are born, we're given a name, ainm cuirp. When we are changed, we take another, ainm anama."

"Ah, the-the name of the wolf?" A deep red took root at Remus' neck, crawling up to his cheeks. "No, er—" He cleared his throat. "My-my given name is Remus, Remus Lupin." A quiet rumbling echoed around the silent room. Remus fought against himself not to seek out the culprits. "And my wolf—" He closed his eyes for a minute, the blush taking full effect. "We call him Moony."

Deep, full-belly laughs broke out from behind them. Remus kept his eyes on Lachlann but Hermione turned around, fire in her eyes as she sought out those laughing. Lachlann held up a hand and the room quieted once more.

"With a name like that, seems you're exactly who you're supposed to be." He held out his hand for Remus to take. "If you're friends of Eòin, you're friends of clan MacTire. Welcome to our home, Remus and Hermione."

Remus reached across the space between them and shook Lachlann's hand.

After being the great hall's sole focus for a moment, Remus and Hermione were quickly relegated to the outskirts of the crowd. Able to look around, to watch and stare, they got their first in depth look at the Scottish clan. There were maybe thirty or forty people dotted about the room, old, young and in-between. The scent of wolves was thick, but even in their inexperience, Remus and Hermione could tell that not everyone here carried the bite.

At their shoulders stood two of the members who had brought them in, arms crossed and eyes focused. Hermione and Remus didn't dare speak just yet, but they moved closer, hands reaching out to find each other. Despite Lachlann's words of welcome, the message was clear. They were still outsiders.

"Kindred," Lachlann spoke, his voice booming across the hall as he stood once more at its head. "My fellow children of the moon. Fourteen days have passed since the moon last hung full in the sky. On that day, our wee Maeve took the bite."

The young girl who had stood beside Lachlann when they'd first arrived now stepped forward to join him once again. She shoved her chin in the air, her shoulders set, but she couldn't help the smile taking over her face. Lachlann smiled down on her, a hand resting softly on her shoulder.

"Not so wee now, but we've seen you grown and you'll be wee a bit longer still."

Maeve turned her face to the crowd gathered round, picking out certain people and changing her expression accordingly, her eyes twinkling all the while.

The room was dimly lit by torches and candles dotting the rows of tables bordering the room. The air was thick with the smell of woods and fire. Hermione and Remus watched on as Maeve turned away from the crowd to fall to one knee before Lachlann. The room fell silent and still as she bowed her head. When Maeve spoke, her voice shook with unshakeable nervous anticipation. She was quite, not allowing the risk of raising her voice in order to keep it as strong and steady as she could.

""I, Maeve, do hereby surrender ainm cuirp in exchange for a name befitting my new pact. I take on the mantle of Eira as ainm anama and pledge my loyalty to the clan of MacTire and its people." Though the smile on her face went unseen, it was heard through the words she spoke. "I claim what is theirs as mine, and I swear to serve and defend my clan at all times, to protect its lands and kin, and to honor its traditions and ways. I will stand by my chief and my clan in times of trouble and peace, of empty sky and full moon, and will remain loyal to them even unto death. This I swear upon my honor, my soul and my life, here before my chief and my clan."

Lachlann smiled and nodded slowly, bringing a hand to rest on Maeve's shoulder. "Well done," he whispered before his voice boomed out again. "As chief of the name of MacTire, I accept your claim."

From his side, Lachlann produced a small knife, the blade catching the light of the torches while its hilt, bone-white, flashed quickly before disappearing into Lachlann's palm. He held out the other hand for Maeve to take, pulling her up to her feet when she did.

"You have pledged your loyalty to me and to this kindred, and in return, I pledge to protect and care for you."

Maeve held out her arm and only then did Remus and Hermione start to move along with the rest of the crowd, shifting and stepping and craning necks to see Maeve pull back the sleeve of her shirt to reveal the red mottled scar of the beginning healing of a bite. Remus' eyes widened and Hermione furrowed her brow. Lachlann raised the hand with the knife.

"You are bound to us by blood and honor." As he spoke, he drew the blade along the jagged curve of the bite, reopening the wound. Maeve's arm jolted in his grasp, but she grit her teeth and stood her ground. Then Lachlann turned the blade on himself, slicing into his palm deep enough for the blood to drip like rain on the stone floor beneath him. "And by this oath, you bind your soul." He grasped Maeve's forearm with his bloody palm, their winces mirrored across their faces, but as Maeve finally lifted her head, they both bore proud smiles. "May this bond never be broken, and may it endure for all time."

The room erupted. People cheered and rushed on Maeve and Lachlann. An older woman came forward with a length of plaid in her hands. The crowd parted, allowing her to reach Maeve to grasp her firmly by the shoulders before she started to weave the plaid around her forearm soaking the blood into the green and blue swathe.

Hermione dared to turn to the guards behind them. "What was that?"

"If you're after the ol' ways, you came at the right time. That, dearie, was a Claiming."

When the man didn't explain further, Hermione turned back. The tables had been filled with people and food and drink. The scent of spices and warm meat, rich wine and scotch whiskey wrapped around them. The chill of their arrival fully melted away and Hermione and Remus were shuffled along the crowd into seats at the edges of the tables. Food passed along and their drinks were never empty. The tense state of readiness fell slightly from their shoulders, but still it lingered.

"What was that? What is a claiming?" Hermione tried to pry these strangers for answers between bites and jokes and laughter.

"Comes after the Bite," the woman across from her said, as if it was a rite of its own. "When the moon's all but gone from sight and the influence of the Bite is at its weakest."

"What did he do to her? Why did he cut her?" Remus didn't touch his wine.

"The Claiming, o' course." The man beside him grabbed for Remus' untouched goblet. "Wee Eira's claimed Lachlann as her chief now."

"But wasn't he already? Wasn't she already in the clan?"

"Aye, but it's deeper now. They're tethered. Now she's a real MacTire."

"Feck off, Graeme. I ne'er took the bite and I'm more MacTire than you'll ever be."

Remus dove out of the way as half a boiled potato was flung across the table.

As the night wore on, they gathered as many bits and pieces as they were able to pick up about the claiming ceremony, but as they were led to their bedchambers by the guards who lingered at their sides, Hermione and Remus both knew there was something more they hadn't quite grasped.

The first night at Castle MacTire, Remus Lupin did not sleep.

*Title Chapter Translation: I Hold a Wolf by the Ears

Cù sassunnach – English dog

Ceann – Chief

Tapadh leibh - Thank you

Ainm cuirp – Name of the body

Ainm anama – Name of the soul