Chapter 14: Unexpected Visitors

[Author's note: if y'all are reading this story and find it at least tolerable, please let me know in the comments.]

The next morning, I received an unexpected visitor.

"Excuse me, Professor?"

I looked up from my grading (extensive comments clarifying the correct usage of a toaster and the Oxford comma) and saw Harry Potter standing in front of my desk, as if he had just materialized there. He wasn't in any of my classes, or in the drama club, so his presence was something of an anomaly. "Oh hello," I said. "What can I help you with?"

"I was wondering if you could tell me about how you fought the dementors," he said. He looked unsettlingly haggard for a thirteen-year-old kid.

"Well," I said, setting my grading aside. "Professor Lupin would probably be the better person to ask."

"He's promised to help me," said Harry, sitting down in the chair on the other side of my desk. "But I wanted to find out everything I could."

"Well," I said again. "I can tell you what I did. I'm not sure if it would work again, or if I should really be recommending it as a strategy. Really, I just cussed at it until it went away."

He let out a surprised laugh. "You what?"

"Well, you see, I didn't know what it was. I thought it was a demon. So I told it to, well, fuck off. And I threw a book at it."

He stared at me, baffled. I felt bad about cussing in front of a student, and effectively encouraging him to do the same, but I wasn't sure what else to do, under the circumstances.

"I have been thinking about it, though," I said. "I think it was partly anger, and partly just bluff. Well, I'm not sure that's quite the way to put it. I was angry enough that it couldn't get its hooks in me, so to speak. And I guess I had enough nerve to act like I was more powerful than it, and it didn't know what to do about that."

"Okay," said Harry.

"Mind you, I don't know if it would work again. But I've been thinking about it. And they've got a body of some kind, apparently. It seems like you should be able to taser them."

He raised his eyebrows. "You think so?"

"I think it's worth a shot," I said, wondering if a thirteen-year-old should be allowed to use a taser. [they are in fact illegal in the UK but hey, the wizarding world is an exception] "Or if you just like beat them with a stick. Like a quarterstaff or shillelagh. Or one of those balls from Quidditch, 'cause a distance weapon might be helpful."

"A Bludger?"

"Yeah. I mean, whatever Re—whatever Professor Lupin's teaching you is probably better. But yeah, in a pinch, be angry, cuss at it, and beat it with a stick. Throw rocks. Whatever you can to keep it at bay."

"Okay," he said. I could tell it wasn't what he expected, but I wasn't sure if he was disappointed or not.

I leaned back in my chair. "I can see why wizards went to wands, because they're more portable, but I do feel like they lost something in downsizing from staffs."

"Maybe," he said.

"You might get a lavender plant, too," I added. "I'm surprised Pomfrey hasn't made you wear a flower crown, but I suppose one has to draw the line somewhere. Don't overwater it. And listen to Professor Lupin. That's all I've got, I'm afraid."

"Okay," he said, looking like he was trying not to laugh again. "Thank you, Professor."

And with that, he left.

That's the thing about these student meetings. You never do find out if they've been helpful or not. But he did look a little lighter, maybe.

After he had left, I remembered that I needed to send an email to Artemis.

Dear Artemis,

Do you mind if my boyfriend (!) and I come and visit you and the wolves this weekend? His name is Remus, and I think he'd really enjoy seeing the wolf sanctuary. And of course I want you to meet him.

Love,

Ophelia.

A little later, I received the following reply:

Dear Ophelia,

Who is this man? How long have you been dating? Tell me everything. And yes, definitely bring him up this weekend so I can take a look at him. We don't have any events or anything like that, and all the wolves seem to be behaving themselves. And we got in two new wolf pups—a boy and a girl. I'm still deciding on names—let me know if you have any name recs. Come to think of it, Remus is a pretty good name for a wolf.

Love from me and the wolves,

Artemis

When the weekend came around, Remus and I went to see Artemis at the wolf preserve in the Cairngorms. We caught the Knight Bus in Hogsmeade. (It does, in fact, run during the day as well). It was early December, and the ground was already covered with snow. As usual, the bus materialized from out of nowhere and screeched to a halt in front of us.

"Hi Stan," I said to the conductor, Stan Shunpike. He had been in my seventh-year Muggle Studies class last year.

"Where you headed?" asked Stan.

"St. Christopher's Wolf Sanctuary," I said. The chief virtue of the Knight Bus was that unlike most buses, it would take you exactly where you wanted to go.

"There's only one bunk left," said Stan, looking at us appraisingly. "Bank holiday, so we're full up."

I glanced at Remus, who shrugged awkwardly. The bus was our best option for getting there, after all. "We'll take it," I said.

"Any luggage?"

"Not today, thanks," I said, handing him the money. "But two cups of hot chocolate, please."

"Right then. Last one on the top."

As soon as we were inside the bus, it shot off with a lurch. We stumbled into the stairwell, desperately trying to hang on.

"Just like the buses in Edinburgh," I muttered, grabbing onto the sides for support. "It would be on the top floor." With some difficulty, we made our way up the two narrow staircases to the third bus deck and squeezed past the other bunks. As we finally reached our designated bunk, the bus came to a screeching halt, causing us to fall into the tiny bed.

I landed on top of Remus. "Sorry!" I said, mortified. I tried to get off him, but the bus started again, and I lost my balance. "Oh gosh. I'm so—" Another apology was halfway to my mouth. Then I saw the look on his face. His eyes were so dilated that they looked almost black, gazing hungrily at me with parted lips. Everything inviting, longing, wanting.

For a second, I forgot about everything but him and my breathing and the feel of his body beneath me.

Then I remembered that we were in fact on a very crowded, very public bus. I shook myself and got off of him.

"Later…I mean…we should…I mean…talk about it." I said dazedly as I pulled up my legs to sit cross-legged at the foot of the bed.

The old lady in the bed beside us shot us a disapproving look.

Remus was saying equally incoherent things as he scrambled into a sitting position at the head of the bed, trying unsuccessfully to get his long legs out of the way. I caught something like "yes…later" over the roar of the bus. My mind was racing.

So we sat like that, with a good six inches of room for Jesus between us, for the remainder of the trip. Despite my best efforts, I was intensely aware of his body at the other end of the bed. I was dimly aware of feeling bad about having my shoes on the bed, but we had to do something for balance, after all. But mostly I was thinking oh my god are we going to sleep together? Is that—should we? The possibilities were delicious and terrifying. When I looked over at him, he went very red, and looked away. I guessed he had been thinking along the same lines. Because really, what else could you think about, after that?

I'm pretty sure the old woman breathed a sigh of relief when the bus driver screeched out "Wolf Sanctuary!" at the top of his lungs.

We clambered downstairs on wobbly legs.

"God, I could almost kiss the ground," I said, putting a hand against a nearby tree for support.

"It's efficient, but that's about all you can say for it," said Remus, stretching his back and groaning. "They forgot our hot chocolate."

"The sanctuary's up on the hill," I said, gesturing limply. I took a deep breath, and started up the hill. There was a path somewhere, but it had been covered up with snow. "I've been meaning to ask you about that, by the way."

"About what?" said Remus, too quickly, crunching through the snow behind me.

"If you're a werewolf, how is it that you can eat chocolate? It's really bad for dogs."

"Oh. Small mercies, I guess," he said with a shrug. "And human stomach versus dog stomach. Never eaten it as a wolf."

At the top of the hill, there was a large, businesslike building that housed the indoor components of the shelter—the hospital, kennels, and visitor area. Beside it was a small stone cottage where Artemis lived. It looked magical in the snow, like the little ceramic Christmas houses I used to put out as a kid. There were several other people on staff at the shelter, along with a small army of volunteers, but she was the only one who lived there full time. Layers of high chain-link fencing stretched away from the larger building on both sides. In the distance, we could hear the wolves howling.

As we reached the top of the hill, the door to the cottage opened, and Artemis came out. I've always thought she looks a little bit like what I imagine the goddess Artemis should be like—tall and strong, with short dark hair and a no-nonsense expression, except that she also looked more like a farmer with her weathered green jacket and tall rubber work boots.

I ran up to her and gave her a hug. "It's so good to see you!"

"I'm glad you made it," she said. It was both strange and a relief to hear her unmistakably American voice again after being surrounded by crazy British people.

Then she turned to Remus. She folded her arms and looked him up and down. "So," she said finally, "When, exactly, were you planning on telling me that you were dating a werewolf?"

We both stared at her.

"You're—you're serious," I said.

"Of course I'm serious," she said. "It didn't take much to put two and two together, from what you told me."

"But you're—I didn't think you would believe me. I mean, I thought you might, but I wasn't sure."

"Well," she said, waving us inside. "I thought to myself, if there's anyone that would actually meet a werewolf IRL, it would be Ophelia."

I wasn't sure whether that was supposed to be flattering or not. It sounded more like a statement of fact. "What makes you say that?"

"I don't know. Weird stuff always seems to happen when you're around. Like that time we checked out that fairy ring and it started to glow"—here Remus made a dismayed sound— "or when we got lost in that graveyard in Edinburgh and saw a ghost." She took off her jacket to reveal a "Team Jacob" sweatshirt. Artemis was the one who had first introduced me to Twilight.

"We weren't sure it was a ghost," I said as we followed her into her tiny sitting room.

"Besides, I've heard a lot of rumors about the area where you work. People see strange stuff they can't explain. You're not the first person to mention werewolves. And well, just look at him," she said, gesturing to Remus.

She turned to him suddenly. "I'm so sorry, I'm being rude. I'm Artemis." She shook his hand. "Ophelia and I go way back."

"I'm Remus," he said automatically. "It's uh, nice to meet you. Ophelia speaks very highly of you."

There was an awkward pause.

"Look, you better sit down and tell me the whole thing from the beginning," said Artemis, gesturing to the two faded chairs.

"That might take a while," I said. Remus and I sat on the battered love seat, which was covered in dog hair—or wolf hair—and Artemis sat in her equally battered recliner.

"Oh—I forgot—there's tea and stuff in the kitchen. And I got Hobnobs for you. Help yourself."

I went into the kitchen. The fridge was covered with pictures of her family; all of the wolves that had ever passed through the clinic—and Viggo Mortensen as Aragorn.

Fortified with tea and biscuits, we did our best to give her a condensed explanation. There was still a lot of getting sidetracked and getting bogged down in various points of clarification.

When we had finished, she was quiet for a while, sitting cross-legged in the chair. Her expression was difficult to read. Finally, she said, "I think I'm going to need a drink," and got up out of her chair. Then she stopped and said "No, better not, if I'm going to have a look at you. Least not till after." She rubbed the back of her neck. "Man, I've heard some weird shit before but this really does take the cake." She sighed. "You know, Ophelia, everyone always thought I was the weird one between the two of us, but I'm starting to think it's actually you."

"Maybe," I said.

She shifted her gaze to Remus and folded her arms, considering. "Well, it's going to take me a while to get my mind around it, but I'd better take a look at you before the day gets away from us. Come on. We'll go into the clinic."

She led the way out the back door of the house and down another path to the clinic. It smelled strongly of wolf and chemicals. I could tell Remus was uneasy—his eyes darted around, his brow wrinkled. I reached for his hand, and he gave me a grateful look.

"I don't suppose it's the full moon, is it?" she asked. The room she led us into looked like a larger, slightly grimier version of the vet clinic we'd taken my dog to when he was still alive—cabinets and various instruments on the side, a big examining table in the center.

"No," he said. "We thought it would be better to come beforehand."

"Well, it's probably safer," she said, "But I'm not sure how much I can help with just you. Sit up there." She gestured to the examining table.

He sat, his long legs almost touching the ground.

"Don't worry," she said. "I'm not really trained to work with humans, so I'm not gonna take your blood or anything like that—don't have the equipment for it either, come to think about it. I suppose you've been to a normal doctor?"

"Not a muggle one," said Remus. "We went to several wizarding doctors when I was a child, but they weren't very helpful."

She cast her eyes up to the heavens. "Well, you should. I don't know what the wizarding doctors are like, but they don't seem to be doing you much good. How old are you, anyway?"

"34," said Remus.

She raised her eyebrows. "Damn, this werewolf thing really hasn't been kind to you."

"Artemis!" I cried out, mortified.

"Ask me for my professional opinion and I'm gonna give it to you," she said, putting the blood pressure cuff on his arm. "I thought you'd gone and gotten yourself a sugar daddy." She paused, and then added, "Not like an old sugar daddy. Like, a well-preserved 45-year-old. Like George Clooney."

I was dying.

Fortunately, Remus laughed. "I'm none of those things, I'm afraid. Not very wealthy, very middle aged, or very well preserved."

"Least you have your hair, though," she said, looking at it appreciatively. "Is that a side effect of the werewolf thing, or do you just have good genes?"

"Eh, both I think," he said, shifting uncomfortably.

"Anyway, you should go get some bloodwork done. I might be able to figure out more stuff if we had a blood sample. I can at least get a DNA sample, though, and see what that comes up with. Other than that, best I can do is check your vitals and see how the wolves react to you." She examined the blood pressure results. "Mmm. It's very high. For a human."

"Yours would be too, if you worked at Hogwarts," I said, trying not to think about our adventure on the Knight Bus.

"It's true," said Remus.

"Wolves' blood pressure goes much higher," she said thoughtfully. "If you were a wolf this would be just about right. A little low, maybe. Let's check your heartbeat." She got out her stethoscope and listened intently. I could see Remus doing the thing where you try desperately to be both very still and breathe naturally.

"Yeah, that checks out," she said finally. "It's a good bit faster, like wolves. Not that that proves anything. You could just be run down and majorly stressed."

"I am definitely both of those things," he said ruefully.

She scratched her head, frowning, as she looked at him. "It's so weird, though. I can just tell, somehow. Must be something about the way you move. You don't have, like crazy wolf eyes or anything like that. But there's something in your face that's just like the wolves."

She swabbed his cheek for a DNA sample. "So it sounds like your big problems are like, aggression and exhaustion and physical wear and tear, and the mental part—I don't mean it's all in your head or anything like that, I'm just trying to figure out if there are practical ways to treat it. Some good vitamin supplements might go a long way. And probably a good bit of raw meat when you're in wolf form. Although you might want to start off with like, a very rare steak or something, because I'm not sure how your human digestive system would react." She was scribbling notes on her clipboard furiously as she spoke. "The aggression thing is a bit more tricky. Getting lots of exercise beforehand is probably a good idea. You say this potion thing helps you?"

"Yes," he said.

"What all is in it?"

He closed his eyes, as if to call back the ingredients from memory. "Wolfsbane, dragon blood, moonstone, syrup of hellebore, murtlap tentacle, an occamy egg, and a sophophorus bean."

Artemis nearly dropped the clipboard. "What the actual—wolfsbane is poisonous, and so is hellbore! How the hell are you still alive? You do know that's where the 'bane' part comes from, right?"

"It's a very complicated potion," said Remus grimly.

She rubbed her face with her hands in exasperation. "How?" she said again. "Where did you get this potion?"

"One of my colleagues brews it for me," he said.

"Does he like you, this colleague?" she asked.

"Not particularly."

She groaned. "For the love of all that's—Ophelia, you've been letting him take this shit? No wonder he looks terrible."

"I didn't know what was in it!" I said. "This is all still new to me."

"It's not her fault," interjected Remus. "And it has been helping."

"I wouldn't be so sure about that," she said, pacing around the room to let out some of her exasperation. "I mean, maybe whatever that other nonsense is counteracts the toxins, or maybe it's like digitalis—like I said, I'm not a people doctor. But still. Thor almighty. You shouldn't mess around with stuff like that." She did a full lap around the room, muttering "hellebore and wolfsbane!" under her breath. Then she did another lap, but the muttering grew more indistinct.

"Okay," she said finally. "If you want to stop ingesting poison, which I suggest you do, what you'll probably need is a sedative of some kind. There's a few that are used on both people and animals, but the dosage varies, and again, I'm not a human doctor, so I'm not just gonna give you wolf sedatives. But I suggest that you get a doctor who doesn't hate you to give you a sedative for humans and see how that works."

"All right," said Remus, nodding wearily. "That shouldn't be too difficult."

"You should probably try to see a psychiatrist too. They might have a better idea of what kind of meds would help you keep your mind. An open-minded psychiatrist. I'll ask around. It's a bit risky, of course, but not as risky as drinking actual poison."

He looked understandably dismayed at the prospect, but nodded.

She spent a few more minutes scribbling furiously on her clipboard.

I gave him what I hoped was a reassuring look. He smiled wanly.

"All right," she said. "Well, that's done. I'll let you know what I find out about the DNA sample. Now for the fun part—meeting the wolves!"

After giving us a lengthy lecture on proper safety measures and wolf etiquette, and having us sign the usual waiver, she led us outside, through the gates of the double-layer chain link fence. "So, are there any upsides to being a werewolf? Like do you have a good sense of smell and hearing?" she asked.

"Well, yes, actually," he said. "Not quite as much as I do when I'm a wolf."

"Cool," she said. "Wait—do you like, remember what it's like, being a wolf? Because if you do I have so many questions."

"Yes," he said. I got the impression that he didn't really think of this as an upside.

"Wow. Ok. This could be life changing, honestly. It's so hard, not being able to talk to them. Like there's a lot that we know, but still. Can you talk to them? Like have you ever been around other wolves before?"

"I can't…talk to them, exactly. We sort of—understand each other. I've come across them in the forest occasionally. I've never really tried to put it into words."

"Oh my god. This is insane. What do you well, communicate about?"

He bit his lip, as if trying to search back through things he'd repressed. "Well. Greetings, and territory, and who's who in the pack, and what's going on in the woods, how the hunting has been. It can get a bit messy if they're hungry. They're not above eating other wolves, especially an outsider and not quite a wolf."

"Well. All our wolves get plenty to eat, so you should be fine," said Artemis brightly. "We'll start with the pups first. They're in a separate enclosure for now, until they're old enough to be introduced into the rest of the pack. Have you given any thought to names for them, Ophelia?"

"A little bit," I said. "But it's always good to see them first."

We followed her into the smaller enclosure. "Now remember, they're little, but they've still got some major teeth on them," she said.

I gave a cry of delight as the two pups emerged from behind a pile of artificial rocks that served as their den and came bounding through the snow. I'd seen a lot of wolves that Artemis had worked with over the years, but not pups. "Oh my gosh," I cooed.

[so according to my hasty internet research the ethics/safety of petting wolves is debatable but hey, it's fanfic, so we're gonna pet the wolves. Please use common sense and respect IRL]

The pups were much younger and tinier than I had expected. They're a bit different than dog puppies—they look much more like tiny wolves with weird proportions, but are no less adorable for that.

"They're just barely weaned," said Artemis. "Someone was smuggling then into the country to sell on the black market. I'm just letting them out during the day right now, because they're not really strong enough to be outside all the time in the winter."

We sat down on the ground and let them come to us. They gave sharp little barks and went straight to Remus, sniffing around him and wagging their tails, but they looked perplexed. He let them sniff for a bit, and then reached out a cautious hand, making little soothing noises. They came eagerly over for scritches.

"Yeah, they don't usually warm up to new people that fast," said Artemis, thoughtfully. "Can you communicate with them when you're a human?"

"Only a little," he said. He continued to pet them, making the same soothing noises. "They're anxious, about the place, I think. They smell the other wolves nearby, but they can't reach them. They're not sure if they're friendly. But I imagine that's the sort of thing that you probably know already." The way the pups relaxed, visibly comforted by his gentle touch, filled my smitten heart with even more love and admiration.

Artemis caught my eye and gave me an approving nod.

After a while, they became curious enough to come and investigate me and say hello to Artemis.

"Any thoughts on names?" she asked. "I've been calling them Puff and Fluff, but that's just kind of a placeholder."

"Well," I said, now petting wolf pups with both hands and generally living my best life "You can never go wrong with Viking names. Or stars." The girl pup was almost black, like Remus. "What about Nyx, for her?"

"Like the goddess, or like Stevie?"

"Both," I said. "Stevie Nyx."

"I like that," she said. Remus murmured agreement. "What about the boy?"

The boy, who was gray, abruptly sat down and gave the tiniest of howls.

"What about Taliesin?" said Remus. "You could call him Tal for short."

Artemis considered this. "Remind me who he is again? Somewhere in King Arthur, right?"

"Yes. He was a wizard-poet." Something about the way he said it made me realize that Taliesin had, in fact existed, and not just in myth. He was probably on a Chocolate Frog card.

"Well, it doesn't exactly go together, but I like it," said Artemis. "Can you tell if they like the names?"

"They aren't over particular about what you call them, as long as you call them something," said Remus. "It's more about how you say it. But it's nice to ask anyway." He held the gaze of the boy pup. "What do you think? Does Taliesin suit you?"

The pup gave another tiny howl.

"I have no idea if that means yes or no," said Remus. The girl pup came back to him. "What about you, Stevie Nyx?" he asked gravely.

She joined her brother in a tiny howl. He shrugged. "Well, they don't appear to dislike it, at least."

"Nyx and Taliesin it is, then," said Artemis.

We played with the pups for a while longer, and then reluctantly bid them farewell. "Grow up strong, pups," Remus whispered to them before he left.

There were two other separate enclosures—one held the more friendly wolves that had been exposed to people that visitors could pet, and one held the wilder ones that visitors looked at from behind two layers of fence.

When we went into the "tamer" wolves' enclosure, they once again crowded around Remus, wagging their tails and barking as if they were all talking at once.

We watched, again, Artemis practically bouncing up and down with excitement. "What are they saying?"

"I'm not sure. It's almost as if…" He scratched the back of his head. "As if they've been on the lookout for me." He shook his head. "Also they're mad at that one over there, for some reason." He gestured to a brown wolf who was missing an ear.

"That's Robert the Bruce."

Several of the wolves turned to give Robert the Bruce a baleful look, as if to say "You know what you did, Robert."

Artemis sighed. "If he doesn't behave himself, I may have to move him to the solitary enclosure for a while. I hate doing it, but it's better than having the pack turn on him."

Remus turned a stern eye on Robert the Bruce, and gestured to the rest of the pack. Robert looked unimpressed. "Your funeral, then," he said, with a shrug.

The wolves loved getting petted and cuddled. It was scary in a different way from petting the patronus wolf—you kind of knew with the patronus, instinctively, that it was there to keep you safe. You didn't know anything with the real wolves. It was like getting to touch the sun.

As Artemis led us to get a look at the last wolf enclosure from a safe distance, we heard a dog barking. "Mr. Shadow!" cried Artemis. A big, black dog came bounding up the hill and ran towards her, wagging his tail. She knelt down to pet him with both hands. "I found him digging in the trash a couple weeks ago, and I thought, well, what's one more dog around here. He's more trouble than most of the wolves put together, but it's nice to have a dog in the house. Aren't you, Snuffleupagus?" She looked up, beaming. "I call him Shadow, but somehow that became Shadow Lord, and Edgelord, and Mr. Rochester. He answers to just about all of them."

"He's beautiful," I said. "Isn't he, Remus?"

"He wasn't when he first came here, I can tell you that," Artemis said. "But he cleaned up pretty good."

Remus hadn't responded. I turned to look at him, surprised—and then I felt a strange prickling at the back of my neck. He was staring at the dog, completely rigid, with a terrifying expression on his face.

"Remus?" I said, moving closer to him and putting a hand on his arm. "What is it?"

He whipped out his wand and pointed it at the dog. "Immobilis!"

Edgelord the dog froze, its tail suspended mid-wag.

"What the hell did you just do to my dog?" demanded Artemis.

Panting, Remus stopped to wipe the sweat that was beading on his brow. "I don't know how to tell you this," he said. There was a terrible pause, as he looked at the dog, and then looked at Artemis, unable to speak. He swallowed, and finally said, "That's not a dog. It's a man."