10th May 1964
Excerpt from Chapter 14 of 1971-1972
She was halfway down the corridor, heart hammering, before she'd even realised she was awake. Remus had screamed, she was sure. From behind the door ahead of her, she could hear a low rumble and high whimper.
And then another shriek. She only became aware of Lyall behind her when she felt him push roughly past her and slam the door open with his shoulder - ignoring the handle completely.
From behind him, she saw a sickening image. A huge wolf, the size of a grown man, crouched over on the floor of Remus' bedroom. In its wide mouth, an obscenely small leg. And then the blood.
On the floor, on its fur, coating its teeth and dripping from the horrifying jaws, and worst of all, running down that one pale leg. A brutal kind of comprehension fell upon her with the tenderness of a brick as her eyes followed the bloody leg to the stained pyjamas on the tiny body, and landed on the wide-eyed, tear and bloodstained face of her child.
Lyall lunged forward. She could see his wand in his hand, but perhaps his senses had left him - she knew hers had. He charged at the creature, but it had already dropped its prey. The yellow eyes were brighter than the moonlight from the open window. The brightest thing in the room. It bared its teeth at her husband, and she was sure that adrenaline would make him fist-fight it if he had to, but she didn't have time to look.
Crumpled on the bedroom floor, his blood turning the carpet beneath him black in the moonlight, was her five year old son. She tried not to look at his face. She knew he was wide-eyed, square-mouthed and keening pitifully with each wobbly breath. It would only make it harder to keep her head.
It was Spring, and the air was sickly and still. How grimly convenient that the little pyjama shorts made it easier to assess the damage. The ankle was mangled, yes, but she could feel gruesomely warm blood flowing over her fingers and she felt further up for the source. Her eyes were almost useless.
Everything was bright red.
Lyall had turned on the light.
"It's gone." He gasped, dropping to his knees beside them. "Jesus Christ."
She didn't answer. She'd found it, her palm clamped over the gnarled bite-wound on his thigh. Her hands were slick. It felt like trying to hold back a river.
"Lyall, do something!" Over everything else, she could hear her heart thudding in her ears. Over the alarm of a disturbed car, over Lyall's ragged breathing, over Remus' whimpering sobbing. "Fix him, please!"
"It can't be fixed."
She heard it, but didn't bother to process it. There was no time for unhelpful statements.
"Of course it can. Apparate us! Or give him a potion, or whatever it is, just do something!" Her teeth were gritted and she could taste salt in her mouth.
She could see, in the corner of her eye, Lyall pointlessly wiping the blood and tears from Remus' face and smoothing his hair out of his eyes. "Magic can't fix this. He's gone."
Hope wanted to hit him, but her hands were busy.
"So help me, then, Jesus Christ! Worry about the wolf when he's not bleeding to death on the fucking floor!"
Perhaps it was the rudeness that awoke him. Snapped from his sad reverie, he seemed to take in the plain reality of the situation. Never mind the werewolf, never mind magic, never mind the politics.
The child was going to bleed to death on the floor.
"Right." He agreed, standing abruptly. She could hear his footsteps thundering down the stairs as he ran for, hopefully, something to help, and stole a brave look at Remus.
He was still staring at her. His eyes were glassy and red.
"I'm so sorry, Mouse." She whispered. "You're so brave."
He just blinked.
Footsteps on the stairs again. The room smelled like blood.
"This might help the bleeding, I'm not sure, but we'll try, then I'll apparate us. But we can't go to Mungo's."
Lyall uncorked a small bottle. His hands were shaking as he pushed hers out of the way. The liquid seemed to smoke on contact with the wound and Remus cried out again. He then pulled out what she thought was the cord for his dressing gown and tied it around Remus' thigh before picking up the tshirt Remus had worn the day before from the floor and stuffing it over the wound. Remus retched, and sobbed and stared, hazel eyes wide.
"Let's go." Hope lifted Remus up as she stood to join him. He was heavy and limp, like a dead weight and his head lolled into the crook of her neck. She felt sick. Lyall gripped her bicep wordlessly and the familiar lurch vanished them from the bedroom.
Magic spat them out into the Spring air of an alleyway and they hurried out onto the street illuminated by fluorescent light shining from the huge building. The automatic doors slid open at their approach and before they'd opened their mouths, a staff member must have pulled some buzzer and they were swarmed and he was gone.
Hope could only stare, dumbfounded at her empty, bloodied hands as commotion crashed around her. Someone was screaming.
Someone was screaming, screaming and sobbing.
Lyall watched as Remus disappeared, obscured by uniformed bodies and, eventually, around a corner. Someone was screaming and sobbing, and something was pulling on him. Someone was touching his hands.
He flinched back, pulling his hands away, and the room seemed to solidify around him. Hope was clinging to his bare arm, her hands sticky with Remus' blood. Her wet face was pressed against her own forearms, concealing herself from the eyes of the man in front of them. She was wearing his shorts. There were small rivers of her own blood running down her legs from the glass that had embedded itself in her knees.
The man stood just a foot away from him, kind faced in the bright fluorescent light. What would have been a carefully perfected hairstyle was wilting visibly in the early morning hours. He reached out again, brushing lightly against Lyall's arm this time.
"Your son?" he asked.
Lyall nodded numbly. "Remus." His voice was hoarse.
"How old is he?"
"Five."
"Okay, good, thank you. Is he allergic to anything?"
Lyall shook his head.
"Can you tell me what happened?"
Lyall's voice caught in his throat. Whether it was the fear of being discovered, or horror that speaking it outloud might solidify the truth, he couldn't tell. The words wouldn't come, either way.
"It's okay," Lyall wanted to believe him. "Don't worry, that'll do for now."
He watched blankly as the man passed the scant information to a woman who had rounded the corner Remus had disappeared behind.
"Come, I'll show you where you can clean up a bit. It's going to be hectic in there for a little while."
Lyall followed him wordlessly, tugging Hope along beside him. They were led into a small room with a couple of chairs, a counter and sink, and a row of upper and lower cabinets. Some paper was strewn across the desk. The man corralled it into a stack and tucked it face-down away from them.
"I'm John," he said, his voice soft, as though talking to a flighty animal. He opened the cupboard and began pulling out handfuls of packets. Lyall led Hope over to the sink and began washing the blood off her hands and arms.
"That's my father's name," Lyall said, reflexively.
Hope had stopped openly crying. He held her hands under the cold tap and watched the bloody water disappear down the drain. She leaned her head on his shoulder and he could feel that her cheek was still wet with tears.
As he dried off he noticed for the first time several cuts, ranging from superficial to still bleeding along his arms and torso from where he'd run at the werewolf. His stomach went cold, but he pushed the thought back to worry about later.
"If you take a seat, I can sort out the glass," John offered, nodding to the examination table in the corner of the room. They obliged, sitting side by side, and John dragged a chair over to them and a small metal tray on wheels with his collection of plastic packets of gauze and water.
"Thank you," Hope whispered, watching John take a set of tweezers in his gloved hands and pull the little shards of glass from her knees. After a few minutes, she took one of the sachets of saline and began cleaning the claw-marks on his arm, copying John. He allowed it, passing her dressings to cover up the wounds.
"It was a dog," she whispered, apparently having calmed her nerves. "A big dog."
John nodded, waiting for more detail.
"It dragged him by the ankle." Her voice was wobbly again. Lyall took her worrying hands in his and went to stand. It seemed that John was done, covering Hope's now cleaned but raw knees with white dressings.
"Thank you." He tried to sound sincere, but his voice came out hollow and flat. "Can you… can you take us back?" It occurred to him that if John refused, he had no idea where they were in the maze of unfamiliar corridors. He obliged, leading them what Lyall suspected was a different way and showing them into a small cupboard with rows of shelves. He pulled down a blue scrub shirt for Lyall, who was still bare chested, and Hope, whose clothes were sticky with congealing blood, and let them change.
The noise grew as they came back under the bright lights. Behind a curtain was Remus, revealed like a gruesome magic act. He looked foolishly small in the full-size bed, appearing blue-ish grey in contrast to the stark white sheets. His pyjamas (decorated with vintage cars, he'd gotten them from Hope's parents for his birthday) were in a pile on the floor, the white terry fabric stained reddish-brown. The woman who had spoken to John earlier was crouched over by his head, talking to him softly. Hope left his side and Lyall felt the cold air replace her by his right arm.
A new face appeared in front of him, blocking out the image of his ruined child.
"Remus' father?"
He was fair-haired and had serious, brown eyes. Rather than the pale blue uniform, he wore a plain white shirt which was looking quite rumpled.
"Lyall," he offered, eyeing the stack of papers in his hands. How was he going to fib his way out of this one? He didn't want to obliviate the person who was helping his child, but at the same time, he could hardly be honest.
"Could you please sit with me for a moment and help fill in this paperwork? We won't go far."
He obliged, following the doctor out of the false privacy of the curtained cubicle, giving the scene a final, fleeting look. Remus was watching Hope with glassy eyes as she muttered platitudes to him over the rail of the bed. They sat opposite each other in a small alcove, insulated slightly from the coming and going of staff.
"My name is Dylan Bedwyn, I'm the children's doctor who received Remus." He pulled a pen out of his top pocket and put it to the form at the top of his stack. "And you said your name was Lyall…?"
"Lupin. And Hope Lupin." Lyall put his hands into the pockets of his pyjamas, looking for his wand. Not necessarily to do anything - more for the comfort of knowing he could.
It wasn't there.
He tried not to let his rising panic show as Dr Bedwyn wrote down their details. Surely he hadn't dropped it in the street? Or even worse, in the hospital?
"John, the nurse who took you earlier, said that it was a dog bite?"
No, now he remembered, dropped on the bloody carpet of the bedroom.
How in Merlin's name did he manage to get them here? Sheer desperation, perhaps.
"Lyall?"
"Oh, yes. Yes, a dog. Dragged him by the ankle."
"And when did this happen?" Lyall watched the ball-point pen as he jotted down their conversation. His mind wandered straight to the darkest places. Perhaps Remus would never go to school now. Perhaps he'd never see Hogwarts. Perhaps he'd never make friends, or have a family. Perhaps he'd be locked up and sterilised.
Perhaps this night was the last night.
"Lyall?"
Right.
"Just before we arrived. We came here as soon as it happened."
The pen stopped. Dylan looked up.
"Your own dog?" He asked, looking sympathetic.
"Er…" Hope was much better at coming up with believable stories than he was. It was a shame he was more often the one who had to conjure them. "No, a stray. We were… camping."
"Right." The writing continued. Lyall took in the dark circles under his eyes. He supposed this was just one of a few upsetting developments of the night. Strange to think, as it would likely be the single most upsetting development in his whole life.
"Okay, and how did he acquire the cut to the upper thigh?" Dylan asked. "We found scarred flesh in the wound - a burn of some kind?"
Lyall stared at him blankly. He was confused, and now, a little concerned. The doctor's voice hadn't changed, but he'd be a fool not to catch the slight wariness and suspicion in his lined face.
"I don't know…" Lyall tried desperately to think back and recall the scene, but the tape played as a flurry of fur and sharp claws and moonlight and the smell of blood. "There was no…"
The dittany. Shit.
"...there was no fire."
"That's alright." Lyall had the impression that it wasn't alright, and was merely being shelved for another time. "We'll figure it out."
"Will… will he be alright?"
He felt foolish asking the muggle doctor when only he and Hope knew the true scope of the situation, but regardless, he was out of his depth and wandless.
"Well," the doctor put his pen away and gave Lyall his full attention. "In the grand scheme of things, he'll be alright. The blood-loss is quite impressive, but on its way to being resolved as we speak. It's looking likely that we'll have to do a proper surgical repair of the femoral artery before the day is over. Whatever has burned inside the wound seems to have stopped the bleeding, but it's not perfect. Surgeons should be on their way to have a look at him, and orthopaedics will come by soon - there's almost certainly some fractures of the small bones in the foot and ankle. But he's awake and pretty coherent, so we're good for now."
Sufficiently satisfied, he took the remaining forms and the offered pen from Dylan and allowed himself to be led back to Remus and Hope, who were now alone.
"Hi," he said, lamely. Strangely shy of directly acknowledging the child that he had essentially written off not thirty minutes ago, he hovered at the foot of the bed. Remus turned away from Hope and fixed him with a sleepy, bemused smile.
"Hi Daddy."
Well, that had done nothing to ease the guilt.
Hope had pulled the rail down and was practically lying next to him, her folded arms on the pillow next to him. She rose and pulled up a stool for Lyall to join them. He took her up on the offer, perching awkwardly beside her. Remus' hazel eyes followed him sluggishly round the room.
"Hi Little Mouse." He whispered, leaning onto the bed next to Hope, so that their arms were touching. She tilted her head to rest it on his shoulder.
"'M big." Remus protested, halfheartedly, raising one twiggy arm into the air. "Wassis?"
Hope reached out and took his arm, wrapped at the crook of his elbow in a heavy layer of gauze to dissuade him from fiddling with the line, and replaced it at his side.
"Don't worry about it."
"'Kay." He stared sleepily at the ceiling for a few moments, and Lyall turned to Hope.
"How are we going to get back?" he mumbled. She looked back at him, confused. Her eyes were looking glassy now, too. It was shaping up to be a sleepless night.
"I left my wand behind," he explained. Hope shrugged.
"Well, if you got us here, you can get us back. Anyway, we have time to figure it out. Surgeons came down to have a look at him, they added him to the morning list. Said they'd be 'round to get consent for it soon."
Remus' little hand had found its way to Lyall's hair and was playing with it absently. He couldn't help but smile a little.
"What've they given him? He's like a drunken house-elf."
"Morphine, I suppose." Hope reached out to play with Remus' hair in return. Lyall had a sudden, visceral memory of two-year-old Remus picking up his hand and putting it in his hair in a silent request for the same thing. He tried not to think about how, over the next month, he would have his humanity ripped away from him.
Remus yawned. His front teeth were missing. Lyall wanted to cry. "Did the dog bite my leg off?"
"No, son." He smiled at the absurdity and was surprised to feel hot tears run over his cheeks. "Two arms, two legs."
Remus nodded contentedly. Lyall thought he was surely keeping his eyelids open with sheer willpower. Someone had cleaned the blood from him as best they could, perhaps to be kind, or perhaps to allow all the muggle electrical nonsense to stick. Regardless, he appreciated it. There was an itchy looking blanket tucked neatly around him up to his armpits. He shook it out and pulled it up to his shoulders. "Might as well sleep, Mouse. You won't miss anything."
Lyall wasn't quite as prepared to get comfy and nap. A member of staff - sometimes John, sometimes a stranger - would join them in what felt like intervals of five minutes but was surely more like half an hour in reality. Lyall watched them cautiously. He wasn't a fool when it came to muggle technology - after all, he had married a muggle. The strange screens and objects in the fluorescently lit room were beyond him, however. Whenever someone approached Remus with some mysterious foreign object, he wanted nothing more than to bare his teeth at them. It was a wonder they didn't muzzle him.
Hope eventually fell asleep, her head cushioned on her crossed arms, resting on Remus' bed. Lyall took the opportunity while he wouldn't be missed to leave the room and get his bearings.
He was in the muggle world, wandless, and penniless, and his son was a werewolf.
One thing at a time.
How was he going to get home?
He hadn't known he had it in him to apparate without a wand - he'd never tried it before - but he wasn't confident in his ability to do it without mortal peril to encourage him. Neither he, nor Hope, had any money of any kind on them. He supposed he could try the Knight Bus. Perhaps they would feel charitable enough to let him pay on arrival.
He cast one glance back at Remus and Hope, before hurrying through the A department. It was quieter now - the fluorescent lights were still obscenely bright for the time of night, but the staff seemed to have settled back into some kind of routine. Someone had cleaned Remus' blood off the floor.
"Lyall?"
It was John, from behind a large, round counter. He half stood in greeting.
"I was just going to get some things from home, if that's okay?" It occurred to him just then that perhaps he wasn't allowed to leave Remus. He'd never been in a muggle hospital.
"Is your wife still here?"
Lyall nodded, and he seemed appeased.
"Alright then. Surgeons will probably come round for consent, but if we've got one parent, that's fine."
Lyall worried his lip, nervous at the idea of muggles cutting into his recently attacked child. "When will they take him? Hope just said 'in the morning'."
John glanced at the clock. "You've a few hours. They won't collect him 'til seven at the earliest."
He was relieved that muggles were incapable of legilimency. He didn't want John having any inkling that he was seriously considering staying at home well after seven to avoid the horror of relinquishing Remus over to muggles with knives.
He wouldn't, of course. It wouldn't be fair on Hope. But it was tempting.
He nodded his thanks and left through the automatic doors. The streets outside were still deserted. It was relatively warm, but standing outside in such light clothes and no shoes was quite uncomfortable. He hurried down the street away from the hospital windows, screwed his eyes shut and stuck out his wand-hand, crossing the fingers of his left hand behind his back.
The triple-decker appeared in front of him immediately with a dramatic screech. He opened his eyes to find the driver leaning out of the cab window.
"Y'alright, pal?"
"Think you could take me to Pontypool?"
"No problem, pal. That'll be seven sickles."
Lyall stepped up onto the bus and watched the driver take in his appearance now that he was illuminated by the light of the cab.
"Is that blood?"
Lyall grimaced. "Well, that's the thing. I'm a bit stuck. No wand, no wallet, no shoes. I need to get back home, then I can pick you up the fare?"
The driver considered him for a moment, eyebrows raised.
"What you doing out in the night wi' no shoes, no wallet and no wand, then?" He asked. Lyall groaned.
"I don't really want to get into it - is it really necessary?"
"You're asking me for a free ride, I'm allowed to be nosy-"
"What's the hold up?"
A haggard looking witch emerged from the bus, scowling at Lyall and the driver. "I've got places to be, you know? You two finished gabbing?"
The driver opened his mouth to argue, but Lyall took his chance.
"Look, I promise I'll pay you when I get there - otherwise I'm going to have to walk back - my kid's in the hospital. C'mon, mate."
The witch rapped on the frame of the cab impatiently. "Let him on, then, for Merlin's sake."
Apparently cornered, the driver sighed, then waved Lyall on, impatiently.
"Thanks…?"
"It's Earnest."
"Thanks Earnest - I appreciate it."
"Yeah, whatever, get on then. Merlin's beard."
Lyall gave Earnest his full address, then sat at the back of the bus, thankful that he hadn't eaten anything, or it would have come right back up. He avoided eye contact with the haggard old witch, who looked inclined to start asking questions if were to give her an in.
The bus came to an abrupt halt and Lyall had to cling to a strategically placed pole to stop himself from being kareened into the windscreen. His stomach dropped as red and blue light flashed against the walls of the alleyway, filtering from around the corner where the bus had stopped. He stood, and slowly walked down the bus, dread filling his chest. Earnest leaned out of the cab window as he passed.
"I'll wait here, go get your fare."
Lyall nodded, and stepped down, barefoot on the cold pavement. He emerged from the alleyway into their street. Two muggle police cars were parked up beside his house, which had been taped off. Several uniformed officers were standing around the pavement outside, and he vaguely recognised their left-side neighbour talking to one of them in his bathrobe and slippers. He spotted Lyall rounding the corner, and pointed him out to the officer, who turned his attention to him.
He was exhausted, emotionally drained, and out of his depth. This was the last thing we wanted to deal with.
"Are you Lyall Lupin?"
The officer met him halfway in the empty road. He looked over Lyall and he didn't miss how his eyes lingered on his feet.
"Yes. What's going on?"
"Well, I was going to ask you that."
Lyall looked over to the house. He supposed, from the outside, it did look quite awful. Well, not that the inside was any better. Remus' room was at the front of the house and the window was clearly shattered. His bedroom light was still on - he could see the blue walls from the street.
Under the smashed window, a few tiles were displaced and shattered in the front garden from the bay window. He supposed that was how the wolf had climbed up.
"Look, I just need to get back in. Do you mind if I at least get some shoes?"
"Not just yet. Is this your house then? What happened here?"
Lyall scratched his stubble and closed his eyes, trying to gather together some patience.
"Yeah, it's my place. Someone broke in - they didn't end up taking anything. My son was hurt." He glanced at the officer. He was far too awake for Lyall's liking. "Him and my wife are at Cardiff Royal."
"Right, c'mon then. Let's get out of the road."
He followed, and sat on the low wall that surrounded their garden. Geordie, their grey-haired neighbour, came over, looking grim.
"Lyall, mate, I'm sorry. But I thought someone had broken in, and I know you've got the weeun, so I called it in when you didn't answer the door. Gave them the spare - they've already had a look in."
"It's alright. Thanks for looking out for us." Meddling old fool, he thought, privately and a little unfairly. Goodness knows what they'd found in the house. The bottle of dittany and his wand were likely still lying on Remus' bedroom floor. This was going to be a mess.
"Any ID on you?" The officer had pulled out a little notepad and Lyall had to stop himself from rolling his eyes.
"No, I left in a bit of a hurry. It'll be in the house. Can I go in, please?"
He hoped the Knight Bus had given up on that fare.
"Come on, then. I'll escort you."
He pushed down his own door handle and stepped over the threshold. The living room was mostly undisturbed, aside from a few dark spots of blood on the wooden floor from where they'd disapperated. He went over to their side table, and picked up his wallet, with his keys attached, and pulled out his muggle ID for the officer, who seemed satisfied.
The stairs creaked under him, and the aching dread deepened. There was the hallway, and there was the door to Remus' room, with the soft yellow light shining out through the crack. He could feel the eyes of the policeman watching him, as he went to the bedroom and pushed the door wide open. The officer objected, but Lyall ignored him.
The room smelled like blood and panic. He stood in the doorway and retched, but only bile came up. The dark patches in the carpet, the pieces of the torn shirt, showered glass glittering in the light. There was the dittany and there was his wand.
He reached out to pick it up, but froze as he felt a hand on his shoulder.
"Don't touch anything in here, please."
He wanted to scream in frustration.
"Please, collect some clothes and shoes, and come back outside. I'm sorry, but I can't let you mess with the crime scene."
"It's my house," Lyall objected, tightly. It was no use.
"I'm sorry."
"Can I at least pick up some clothes for my son?"
The policeman seemed to think about it for a moment, before relenting. "Fine, but I'll do it. Just in here?"
He stepped carefully into the room and opened Remus' chest of drawers, pulling out a few jumpers and trousers, before handing them to Lyall. "Anything else?"
Lyall pointed over to the floor by the bed. Remus' toy unicorn was half under the bed, where it had fallen in the commotion. "That unicorn too, please."
He hesitated, before obliging.
"Thank you."
He got a tight smile in return.
Lyall made swift work of changing into some more reasonable clothes and picking something up for Hope. He handed the bloodied pyjama bottoms to the officer and stuffed his and Hope's wallets, along with the spare clothes and toy, in his work bag.
"That everything?"
Accepting that he wasn't getting his wand until the Ministry bothered to show up, he nodded and allowed himself to be led outside.
Speak of the devills.
Crouch's grim face was illuminated by the red and blue light as he carefully obliviated the neighbour. On seeing them emerge from the house, another wizard in puce robes walked over.
"Excuse me, this is a crime scene. You can't ju-"
"Confundo!"
The muggle policeman's face went blank. The wizard, who Lyall assumed must have been a member of the Magical Law Enforcement Squad, began to methodically coach the officer on a fictional series of events before sending him on his way.
"Lupin. Wasn't expecting to be at your place tonight. What's going on?"
"Just a break-in," he explained, quickly. "Sorry, who are you?"
"Apologies, I'm Officer Scott," the wizard held out his hand to shake Lyall's. He took it, halfheartedly.
"Look, Scott - it's been a hard night, when is this all going to be sorted? I just want my house back so we can come home." He watched the muggle police cars round the corner, out of sight. The sky was lightening rapidly and realised that it was already well past dawn. He wondered what time it was.
"If the neighbour and the police are the only muggles we have to worry about, I think that's us done. I assume you can sort out the window? We got a Secrecy ping for your apparition, by the way - did anyone see?"
Lyall shook his head. "It was just me, moving my wife and son out of the house. Will I get a caution?" The last thing he needed to deal with on top of everyone else was a summons for improper use of magic in a muggle area. "It was inside the house."
"Don't worry about it - reckon Crouch will just veto it. Your wife and kid alright?"
"They're fine-" Lyall swallowed hard and forced himself to meet Scott's eyes. "They're fine. Just at my parents' place."
Scott patted him on the shoulder before walking away and Lyall had to force himself not to snap at him. He was going to have to sleep soon, before he did something he regretted.
He caught Crouch's eye and nodded in thanks, before retreating back into the house. As soon as the door was closed, he sprinted up the stairs and snatched his wand from the floor of Remus' room. Working as quickly as he could, he set about restoring the broken window, righting the furniture and vanishing the blood and spilled dittany out of the carpet, thankful that the MLE Squad hadn't been in the house. There wasn't much he could do about the smell. Once the room was presentable, he flicked off the light and closed the door firmly. He suspected it would be a while before he could stand to be in there again.
On his way downstairs, he slipped into the bathroom, rummaging around in the cabinet until he found two little vials of dreamless sleep potion. He shoved them in the bag and hurried downstairs. The paper from a few days ago was still sitting on the living room sofa.
He picked it up and unfolded it.
Ministry Speaks on Rising Werewolf Activity Across Wales and South-West England
The Ministry of Magic has been inundated with sightings of werewolves around England and Wales in the past few months, with many believing that known violent criminal and lycanthrope, Fenryr Greyback, has been out for blood.
With fear in the hearts of the wizarding public, the Department for the Regulation and Control of Dangerous Creatures has reviewed its policy and procedures for the identification, tracking and containment of werewolves.
Senior Officers Lyall Lupin and Rodger Scott have spoken on the matter, hoping to reassure the public that proper action is being taken.
"It is the department's belief that with new, harsher standards for the Werewolf Registry, that we can begin to curb this recent spell of attacks and halt the exponential growth of the population." Said Officer Rodger Scott, 32.
"For the greater good and safety of our community, family members and friends of those who are suspected to have been turned must do their part in reporting - allowing due process to occur. It is important to remember that, upon infection, the individual has been changed irrecoverably and nothing good can come of hiding an uncontrollable monster within a family home."
Argument has been levelled at the strategies the Department has put forward, stating that the forcible detainment and registration of werewolves is an infringement on their human rights. In addition, there has been push back against the move to sterilise known werewolves, to ensure the population cannot breed.
Senior Officer Lyall Lupin, 30, has spoken out against these concerns with reassuring certainty.
"It's important to remember that a werewolf is not a being, it is a beast. A dangerous, savage and uncontrollable beast. It is impossible to infringe on the human rights of a creature which has lost its humanity. More importantly, we must consider the rights of those unfortunate enough to reside nearby. Is their right to safety less important than the rights of a creature who cannot help itself, that cannot control its animalistic urges? I think not."
He stood alone in the living room, listening to the rustling of the pages from his own shaking hands. There was a gentle tap and he looked down to see a spot of water blurring the text.
He took out his wand and burned it, watching the ash flitter down to the floor, before leaving the house and slamming the door behind him.
The clock on the wall of the A department read 08:32.
Lyall's footsteps echoed around the feature-less walls as he hurried to the little cubicle where he'd left Remus and Hope. The place seemed oddly deserted of staff, just a handful popping in and out of rooms.
He flung open the curtain and found the space empty. Hope was curled up on a plastic chair in the corner, her chin resting on her knees. She looked up at the noise and smiled sleepily at him.
"You're back."
"Where's Remus?" Lyall asked, urgently, trying to push down the rising panic.
Hope stood up and pulled him into a hug. "Don't worry, he'll be back in an hour or so, they said."
She opened the flap of his bag, rummaging around nosily to see what he'd brought back.
"How did you manage to get back, in the end?"
"Took the Knight Bus," he muttered into the top of her head. "Police had turned up. Sorry I took so long."
Hope stepped back so that she could look at him properly. "Did the Ministry?"
Lyall smiled sardonically. "Oh, in record time. Don't worry - they didn't go inside."
"So…" Hope licked her lips nervously. "He's safe, right? They don't know?"
"No. Not yet, at least."
She wrapped her arms around him again, breathing a sigh of relief. "Good. Thank you."
"For what?"
"For going back. I don't think I could… you know… just thanks."
He gave her a squeeze, and rested his cheek on the top of her head.
"Hey, no problem, pet."
They stood like that for a few moments, deaf to the sounds outside of the curtain and blind to the fluorescent lights. He couldn't do all the rest. He couldn't bear to hold the bloody wound, he couldn't bear to carry the limp child. He couldn't bear to look him in the eyes and whisper to him that he would be okay and believe it. But he could go back to the house and hold his breath and make it look as though nothing had ever happened.
He could do that.
It was the least he could do.
There was a rustle behind them.
John was peeking into their cubicle. "Sorry to disturb you."
They broke apart, a little awkwardly. "No, it's okay. Thanks for your help, earlier."
He smiled, and his eyes crinkled. "No need, it's my job! We just changed over, and Remus will go to the ward when he gets out of theatre, do you want me to show you the way? You can wait for him there."
He gave them a moment, and Hope took the clean clothes Lyall had brought and hurriedly pulled them on. After a moment of thought, she took the toy unicorn out of the bag too.
"Good thinking," she noted, rubbing a thumb fondly over its worn head.
They followed him through the department, out of a set of double doors, and into more corridors. Eventually they were dropped off at the entrance to the childrens' ward, and welcomed by a matron. John gave them a friendly wave.
"Hopefully, I won't see you again," he said, smiling wryly.
As promised, they were led to a space in a bay with no bed and a couple of chairs to wait for Remus to return. Lyall waited for the matron to leave before sitting down, exhausted.
"So, did the muggles tell you how exactly they were going to cut him up?" he muttered, looking blankly at the empty floor in front of them. There were three concealed spaces in the large room. Lyall could only assume that there were other miserable families behind the curtains.
When Hope didn't answer him, he turned to look at her. She was still standing, the toy unicorn in her hand.
"Well?"
"You have to stop saying things like this," she whispered, and it landed with a sting that Lyall wasn't ready for. "This is how we got into this mess in the first place. You just thoughtlessly saying things without thinking who you're hurting."
Lyall raised an eyebrow at her, swallowing the bitter anger that she'd suddenly brought to the boil. "Oh, we're upset that I hurt Greyback's feelings now, are we?" He hissed.
"You know that's not what I'm saying."
"No, I heard you loud and clear. Our son was attacked and now I'm to blame."
"Don't twist my words, Lyall-"
"There's nothing to twist-"
"Listen, I'm just saying, sometimes you say these things offhandedly and they're hurtful. They hurt me, and they obviously hurt that monster. And now they'll hurt Remus, too."
He wanted to keep pushing. He could feel himself getting wound, tighter and tighter, like an over-stretched violin string. He could keep pushing.
A yawn forced its way out of him and he rubbed his hands over his face and groaned.
"I'm sorry. You're right, and I'm sorry. I'm tired and I snapped." He rested his chin on his hands and peered up at her. "And I'm sorry about the surgeons. I'm just worried."
Hope dropped down in the chair next to him and pressed her face into Remus' toy.
"I'm not blaming you for what happened." Her voice was muffled into the fabric. "I don't want you to blame yourself, either." She lifted her head and looked into his eyes, very carefully. Her eyes were red-rimmed. He supposed she'd been crying, while he was gone.
"You can't blame yourself. It's going to be hard enough as it is. You have to stay."
"I'm not going anywhere."
She sighed, but didn't look away. "That's easy to say now…"
"Hope?"
Her eyes looked wet. He wanted to reach out and hug her, but he knew she wouldn't appreciate it now.
"I won't leave him. But I can't do it alone. So you can't leave when it gets hard. It's going to be hard."
Lyall swallowed roughly. How long had he been away, and left her thinking that she was going to have to do it alone?
He searched for the right thing to say as her tears spilled over. She sniffed. There were hundreds of things he could say, but nothing that would really dispel that fear.
Still, she was crying, and he had to find something.
"I'll do anything for him."
She was still staring. If he didn't know better, he'd think she was reading his mind. Apparently satisfied, she sniffed again and looked down at her hands.
He copied her and allowed the silence to wash over them.
"What a mess."
The doors to the bay swung open and his head snapped up.
"Remus?"
He saw Hope stand, drop the toy onto her empty chair, and rush over, hovering around the bed as the staff slotted it into the gap. Someone closed the curtain and they were safely in another imitation of privacy as the staff spoke to one another at the bedside. Lyall ignored them. It wasn't as though he had any real understanding of what they were saying anyway. Instead, he had eyes only for Remus.
He was expecting… Well… He wasn't really sure what he'd been expecting. For him to be a bloody mess of crudely sewn up wounds like an old patched jacket, maybe. Sure, he looked tired and grumpy, red-faced and trying valiantly to extract himself from his own blankets - but he was, at least, less grey and floppy then when he'd last seen him.
"Hey, where are you trying to go?" He untangled Remus' arms from the blankets, trying to coax him into lying down. Remus batted his hands away, groaning impatiently. Lyall caught Hope's eye over the bed from where she was listening earnestly to a man wearing the type shirt that John had lent him earlier. It looked to Lyall like he was wearing a set of blue pyjamas. He supposed he should have some trust. The muggles looked unbothered by Remus' flailing, so he swallowed his questions and picked up the unicorn from the seat next to him.
"Hey, look who I picked up from home," he whispered, holding it up in front of Remus' eyeline. He switched from frustration to delight with jarring immediacy and snatched it out of Lyall's hand. He decided to let the rudeness go - he had the feeling a reprimand would fall on deaf ears.
"Toast," Remus crooned happily, rubbing his face on the worn fur.
"Yeah, you're welcome," said Lyall pointlessly, smiling at him. The man in the blue scrubs who Lyall assumed was the surgeon he'd missed earlier that morning, leaned over the bedrail and lifted the blanket for the benefit of Hope and the nurse on the other side of the bed. He tried to look away - he didn't need to see whatever horror they'd done - but he wasn't quick enough. Luckily, there wasn't much to see. A neat, white dressing covered the deep gash on his inner thigh and there was some hard casting around his foot.
"What's this?" Lyall asked, before he could stop himself, tapping on the bottom of the hard cast. The surgeon looked at him, incredulously, then seemed to compose himself. Hope rolled her eyes impatiently at him from behind the surgeon's back.
"It's a cast. We took an x-ray, there are some small fractures and it shouldn't take too long to heal. About 6 weeks, I'd say."
6 weeks? Muggles were mad. He schooled his face carefully, trying not to look even more foolish by revealing his confusion.
Remus was looking down at his own leg in apparent surprise.
"Two legs," he muttered, matter-of-factly. Lyall rolled his eyes, fondly.
"Yeah, Mouse, remember. Two arms, two legs. We talked about this before."
"The dog ate my leg." He said, solemnly. "And now I have a new leg."
He looked hopelessly at his wife, who walked around to join them once the muggles had finished talking.
"He thinks Greyback ate his leg," he whispered to her as she sat down. Hope snorted.
"He doesn't really, he's just confused. Ey, Mouse," she turned to him and he looked back at her as though seeing her for the first time in a decade, wide-eyed and astonished. "How're you doing?"
"Mammy, a dog ate my leg."
"Merlin's beard-"
"And then I grew a new one."
Hope was clearly trying not to laugh at him. She lowered the rail and reached over to scoop him up out of the bed and onto her lap. A few tangled wires trailed after him.
"I missed you," she said, squeezing his shoulders and planting a kiss on his forehead. "It's been a long night."
"No, I just woke up."
Hope ignored him, apparently happy now that the worst of the ordeal seemed to be over. Lyall rested his chin on his hand and watched them. Watched them until his eyes were heavy and his thoughts were slow.
"Magic can't fix this. He's gone."
Thank goodness for Hope. He wanted to think it was naivete, but that would be unfair. It was some kind of bravery that he just didn't have. He'd have to find it, though, if this was going to work.
He watched them, cuddled together on the plastic chair, eyes closed and content. Hope's long, brown hair hiding Remus away from the world, and Remus, all elbows and knees, gathered there in her arms like a bag of kindling. Relatively unscathed, still a family yet.
It was a difficult few weeks.
Lyall had never felt the looming weight of the passing of time so heavily. Each day that ended, the moon loomed closer, and the dread sunk deeper and deeper.
They still hadn't told Remus.
How were you supposed to explain that?
It had been difficult enough to get the leg sorted out without alerting Mungo's of the injury. In the end, Lyall had been forced to learn the spell to fix the fractures himself and wait until Remus was fast asleep before attempting to perform it.
And that was the other problem.
It had been no surprise that, once they were home, Remus had refused to sleep in the bedroom - Lyall could barely go in there without retching - but they couldn't even get him up the stairs. Normally a relatively agreeable child, it had been disarming to witness the screaming and fighting as they'd tried to lead him up to take a shower. At a loss for what else to do, he'd conjured the sturdiest tub he could manage and they had relented, creating a makeshift bath in the kitchen.
Accepting defeat on the matter, Lyall pulled Remus' mattress downstairs and they made camp in the living room - as though any of them would be getting any rest.
It was the second week of minimal sleep broken by frightened screaming that the letter came.
Due to recent reportings of werewolf activity in your area, the Ministry of Magic requires you and your immediate family to attend the Department for the Regulation and Control of Dangerous Creatures at 5pm on the 25th of April for quarantine until the morning of the 27th of April. Failure to attend will incur summons for your arrest and forcible detainment, with potential for criminal charges relative to the nature of your disobedience.
Yours Sincerely,
Rodger Stone, Senior Officer,
Department for the Regulation and Control of Dangerous Creatures
Shit.
He should have expected that he was hardly going to get off so lightly. The office had been in a strange sort of frenzy that he'd felt purposefully removed from, and now it was all quite clear.
Of course they were under investigation.
He walked into the kitchen where Hope was trying to liven herself up with a mug of tea and a slice of toast and handed the letter to her wordlessly. She read it over a few times, her expression grim.
"I suppose there's no getting out of that," she sighed, handing it back. "We all have to go? Even me?"
Lyall nodded. "Muggles can be turned. We'll all have to go." He looked back towards the sitting room where Remus was passed out on the sofa after another night of broken sleep
"What will they do to him?"
Hope was no fool - he talked plenty about his work and she knew it would be nothing good. Now, looking at the procedure from the other side, it felt incredibly cruel.
"Well, he'll have to be registered. After that… Well, there's options, but they're for adults. I don't know what they would do in his case. The original idea was for werewolves to submit to tracking and turn themselves in every month for secure transformation, but that's not really how it worked out.
He thought about the ashes of the newspaper that were now surely trodden into the grooves in the wooden floor.
'The forcible detainment and registration of werewolves is an infringement on their human rights. In addition, there has been push back against the move to sterilise known werewolves, to ensure the population cannot breed.'
He didn't want to think about that right now.
"I'll sort it out - don't worry about it. They won't get him."
He felt like a leper, walking through his own department, Remus on his hip and Hope at his side, following behind his own colleague. He hoped that it was merely his guilt skewing his perception of the interaction. If it wasn't, this was going to be much harder to worm his way out of than he'd planned.
"Madness, isn't it, mate?" Rodger said, turning down a corridor and into their newly re-purposed holding cells. "Anyway, you don't have to be separated tonight, we set one up for the three of you, help yourself to whatever, you know where the kettle is!"
Rodger had stopped and shown them into what looked like a bare-bones hotel room. It didn't have a cell door, but quite conspicuously, the other, rougher looking rooms in the hallway did. Lyall grimaced at the thought of Remus, alone for the first time since the attack, transforming into a monster behind the bars.
"You clocking off now, then?" he asked, hoping he sounded conversational. Rodger laughed.
"Wish. Got the next few hours rounding up the few who tried to ignore the letter. Paired up with Crouch too. It's gonna be a long night."
He left them to their own devices, pulling the door ajar on his way out.
Hope sat heavily on the bed. Remus had rested his head on Lyall's shoulder. Lyall hoped he'd fallen asleep, but he couldn't see his face.
"I don't want to put him in there, Lyall," Hope whispered, obviously thinking about the cells outside. He sat down next to her and Remus wriggled into his lap.
"Put who where?" he asked. "Do we have to stay here all night?"
"Nevermind, nosy. And yeah, just one night, okay?"
Hope looked questioningly at him, but said nothing. Remus was eyeing the single bed on the other side of the room.
"Do I have to sleep there?"
"You can camp with us, Mouse."
Apparently satisfied, he leaned back into Lyall, who reached up to play with his hair. It was a shame, he'd been getting so bright and cheeky over the past year, only for it all to have been erased.
Hope slept eventually, but he knew Remus - who had wormed himself between them in the bed - was also wide awake, listening to the shouting and clanging outside as Rodger and Crouch detained the captured. He could feel Remus' eyelashes tickling his shoulder as he blinked.
"Are you scared?" Lyall whispered.
"A little bit," he confessed into Lyall's arm. "But they won't come in here?"
"No, they won't come in here."
"And we won't go out there?"
"Not tonight. In the morning, when we leave."
Remus was quiet for a while, long enough for Lyall to start drifting, before he tapped him on the arm.
"Is the monster out there?" He mumbled, barely audible. Lyall turned over on his side to face him. "The dog monster."
He had those big, worried eyes - glassy in the dim light - and the missing four teeth at the front of his mouth. The furthest thing from a monster. Bony knees digging into his stomach and cold little feet pressed on his leg. It was hard to believe what would become of him tomorrow night.
"He's not there, no. And you won't see him again."
"I wish I hadn't seen him once." He said, sniffing wetly.
The false light in the underground room changed to signify the daytime, but Lyall was sure he hadn't managed to sleep a wink. He untangled himself from Remus and went to brush his teeth before finding his and Rodger's office to make him and Hope a cup of tea.
The barred cells in the corridor were occupied. Three lumps, sleeping on the beds in clear view of the doors. Crouch was proving to be an effective force.
He fingered his wand in his pyjama pocket, hoping that the stars would align for them. Merlin knew they were overdue.
The kettle in the office whistled obnoxiously just as the door opened. The clock on his desk read six thirty in the morning and Rodger entered looking appropriately exhausted.
"Lyall," he acknowledged, hanging his cloak up and slumping into his chair with a yawn. "Wouldn't mind making me one, would you? It's been a long night."
It would be too easy. He was tired, and slow, and Lyall could see his wand sticking out of the pocket of his doffed coat. As long as no one found out, he could drag his son's life back.
There wasn't really a question.
"Imperio."
AN
Hope you enjoyed this! Lyall has been living rent free in my head for weeks and this fic was an exorcism
Big fat thanks to;
Ixekizumab, stallar_jay and moonysblue for help with the hospital and police scenes.
And thanks to SunflowerSelkie94, remtv (and probably a dozen others on Discord) for proofreading 3
Puncture Repair - Elbow
I leaned on you today
I regularly hurt but never say
I nearly wore the window through
Where was air sea rescue?
The cavalry with tea and sympathy
You were there, puncture repair
I leaned on you today
I regularly hurt but never say
You patched me up and sent me on my way
I leaned on you today
