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starfishstarRAISE YOUR LANTERN HIGH
Summary: In which Remus and Tonks fight battles, arrest criminals, befriend werewolves, overcome inner demons and, despite it all, find themselves a happy ending. A love story, and a story of the Order years. (My Remus/Tonks epic, which has been years in the making! This is the second half of the story, set in the Half-Blood Prince year.)
Chapter 6: Knocking on Doors
But give me to a rambling man
Let it always be known that I was who I am
–Laura Marling, Rambling Man
With the Hogsmeade census list in hand, Tonks started knocking on doors, chatting and smiling and asking friendly questions. It was gratifying to see that even in these days of high suspicion, she was still capable of charming the neighbours into talking with her.
It was tiring, having to act cheerful every day when she herself didn’t feel cheerful, but it got results. In the margins of the census list, Tonks kept notes on anything that might prove relevant. (“Has son in 3rd yr at Hogwarts” or “Thinks Hogsmeade should institute night curfew” or “Seemed shifty at first, but turned out was b/c thought I’d come to check if Floo connection was up to code.”)
She made the rounds of Hogsmeade’s shops, too, striking up small talk as a way to scent out people’s interests, concerns and allegiances. She took to dropping in at the Three Broomsticks sometimes during the afternoon lull between lunch and dinner, and found Rosmerta just as cheerful and good-natured as Tonks remembered from her school days. If anything, Rosmerta’s only fault was that she was perhaps too eager to be likeable, which could make her easily influenced.
Tonks also made a new friend in the jovial old proprietor of Scrivenshaft’s, one of the few people in Hogsmeade who remained unbowed by the gloom that had taken hold of the country. Tonks enjoyed their conversations, though he was often distracted by a need to pull from the shelves an ever-growing stack of books he felt she absolutely must read.
His young shop assistant was likewise just as friendly in person as he’d seemed whenever Tonks passed by the shop. In fact, she got an alarming sense that he was trying to work up the courage to ask her out for a drink, and she ended up ducking out of their conversation a little sooner than she would normally have done.
Tonks even managed – eventually, despite his ably avoiding her for many days – to meet face to face with Aberforth Dumbledore. Because, yes, that was who the owner of the Hog’s Head Inn turned out to be. Tonks gave him grudging credit for an impressive job of hiding in plain sight: the brother of Britain’s most notable wizard running a pub right there in Britain’s only all-wizarding village, and no one seemed to know he was there. He was also, it turned out, a member of the Order, despite never having attended a meeting as far as Tonks could remember. Perhaps being Dumbledore the Younger got him special dispensation.
Stepping back out to the pavement in front of the pub after their highly uninformative chat – the younger brother didn’t give away information any more easily than the elder – Tonks fastened her cloak against the autumn wind and turned her steps towards the Aurors’ headquarters, where it was time for their latest check-in meeting.
“Ministry’s made an arrest,” Savage said as soon as Tonks stepped in the door, clumsily unfastening her cloak with chilled fingers.
Her head snapped up. “Who? Think it’s a valid lead?”
“Too soon to say for certain,” Proudfoot answered. He and Dawlish were seated at the kitchen table. “But have you ever ridden the Knight Bus? They’ve arrested that kid who works as the conductor. Stan Shunpike.”
Tonks thought of riding the Knight Bus the previous winter with Remus, when they’d chaperoned the kids back to Hogwarts after the Christmas holidays. The conductor had seemed not only gawky and harmless, but positively intimidated by her when she used her Auror voice on him.
“No way,” she said, dropping into the seat across from Dawlish and rubbing her hands together to warm them up. “They think he’s working for the Death Eaters?”
“That’s what Robards is saying,” Proudfoot said, scratching his nose. He sounded doubtful.
“You think Robards would have authorised the arrest if it weren’t true?” Dawlish countered.
Yes. Because he’s getting desperate to make it look like he’s managed to do something since taking over the department from Scrimgeour, Tonks thought. But she didn’t say it.
“Also, things at Hogwarts aren’t looking so good,” Proudfoot continued.
“Why? What’s happened?” Tonks felt her heart leap to her throat. Surely she’d have heard right away if anything had happened to one of the kids?
“Oh, it’s the just parents, getting nervous,” Savage said dismissively. “A few have decided to pull their kids out of school, thinking they’ll be safer at home. It’s not good for morale. Scrimgeour wants Dumbledore to do something to reassure the students’ families.”
“Maybe Dumbledore could get the Potter kid to put out a statement saying how well-protected he feels at Hogwarts,” Dawlish added.
“So, Tonks…” Proudfoot put in, and Tonks realised they must have discussed this before she’d come in. He raised an eyebrow at her. “How about taking a run at the old man? He seems to like you. Maybe he’ll listen to reason, if you’re the one saying it. Think you could talk him into working with us for once?”
“I can’t promise I’ll be able to get him to go along with what the Ministry wants,” she said cautiously. “But I’ll see if I can get a meeting with him.”
“Good sport,” said Proudfoot approvingly.
Good luck, thought Tonks.
But Dumbledore responded to her request for a meeting with alacrity. She sent him a Post Office owl when she left Dawlish and Savage’s flat, and the return owl arrived that evening as she sat in bed reading over her census list notes.
The next afternoon, the headmaster ushered her into his office with the same good cheer as always.
“How is Hogsmeade?” Dumbledore asked, once Tonks was perched on a chair across from where he sat behind his desk. “Are you settling in all right, away from London?”
Dumbledore being Dumbledore, it was impossible to judge whether he was truly just asking how she liked Hogsmeade, or if he was probing to find out how she was doing with Remus gone, and without Sirius. Given the option of open interpretation, Tonks chose to answer the question at face value.
“It’s fine, sir. I’ve found ways to keep busy.”
Dumbledore’s eyes twinkled. “So I’ve heard.” At her surprised look, he said, “I do have my sources.” And belatedly Tonks remembered, again, that his own brother was right there in Hogsmeade. The man did have a way of slipping out of view.
“So,” Dumbledore continued. “I imagine you’ve been sent here with a message for me on behalf of the Aurors?”
“You did that on purpose, didn’t you?” Tonks asked. “Set it up so the others would think I was the one they’d best send to talk to you?”
Dumbledore twinkled, if possible, even more. “Wouldn’t you have done the same?”
“Er, I suppose,” Tonks said. “Anyway, I’m sure I’m not telling you anything you don’t already know, but the Ministry wants you to reassure parents that their children are safe here. Lean on Harry to issue a statement about what a wonderful job he thinks the Ministry’s doing in fending off Voldemort, or something like that.”
“Which you, of course, know I will not do,” Dumbledore replied, his tone pleasant.
“Right, yeah. I mean, I did figure.”
“So let us talk of other things,” Dumbledore proposed.
Tonks nodded. She supposed that was good enough to be able to say she’d discharged the absurd duty assigned to her, of trying to convince Albus Dumbledore of anything.
Dumbledore gazed at her keenly over his half-moon spectacles. “I may find it necessary to be absent from Hogwarts frequently this year. This is in pursuit of certain researches of my own, the particulars of which I’m afraid I can’t reveal at the present, but which I assure you are relevant to our struggle.”
“Ah,” said Tonks. She had no idea why he was telling her this.
“Whenever I am forced to be away from the school for any period of time, I shall ask members of the Order to come and keep watch here in my stead.”
“Ah,” Tonks said again, but with more understanding.
“I hope not to need to call on your services, as I would prefer not to draw the Ministry’s attention to my absences and you are a Ministry employee, albeit a highly discreet one,” Dumbledore said with an inclination of his head. “But if I should occasionally need to ask you to patrol at Hogwarts in addition to your normal duties, would you be amenable?”
“Of course,” Tonks said.
It saddened her to think he no longer trusted the Ministry with the school’s safety – in fact, no longer trusted anyone but the Order – but she could understand why he’d reached that point. Her double role as Auror and member of the Order of the Phoenix would continue to be a delicate balancing act.
– – – – –
Autumn tinged the moor with russet hues as the equinox arrived, quietly acknowledged by the pack as the moment in the year when day and night were of equal length, the world poised between the heights of summer left behind and the depths of winter still to come.
And in the days after his second full moon with the pack, Remus acquired a new nickname.
He’d taken to visiting that spot on the moor where the water trickled out from an exposed patch of ground whenever he had a moment free from the responsibilities of the pack. It did him good to have moments when he could slip away and be alone with nothing but the sound of trickling water and his own thoughts.
“Hey there, Peace and Quiet!” a voice boomed, and Remus almost toppled over, where he was crouched down with his eyes closed, listening to the moor.
He struggled to his feet and saw Jack, known within the pack as Thunderstorm, a big, brawny fair-skinned man whose bushy brown beard was shot through with grey. He’d stopped a few paces away from Remus and was smirking at him.
“Er, yes, hello,” Remus said.
He hadn’t heard Jack approaching. Nor had he smelled him. Remus knew that any of the others in the pack could have sensed Jack’s approach by smell alone.
“Enjoying the quiet?” Jack asked, still grinning at Remus.
“Yes,” Remus said politely. “After having lived in a city, I find I appreciate being able to hear water running, and the wind over the moor.”
“Well, well, the professor’s a poet too.” Jack shook his head and strode off in the direction of the camp, calling back, “Don’t be late, Rock Crag’s got a bonfire going.”
When Remus, too, returned not long after, he was met with a round of general laughter.
“Look, it’s Peace and Quiet!” called Ashmita, whose werewolf name was Rock Crag. She was a petite Indian woman with a bird-like build and a small pointed face. She had bright eyes, dark hair and a big, loud laugh that always took Remus by surprise when it emerged from her tiny frame, as it did now.
“Peace and Quiet, who likes listening to the moors,” giggled Tamara, or Blackthorn. Tamara laughed often, too, but it seemed to Remus her mirth was often at others’ expense, and her laugh wasn’t as kindly as Ashmita’s.
The next day, when the Alpha called Remus to him to assign a task, he summoned him with the words, “Quiet, come here a minute.” From then on, that stuck as Remus’ new name. Remus was glad – he liked “Quiet” far better than “City.”
A few days later, to Remus’ relief, young Eirwen finally acquired a werewolf name, too. She’d been scavenging for food with Ronan and Narun, and the three of them had raided a chicken coop in a village some distance away. (Remus tried to quiet his conscience on this aspect of how the pack fed themselves, knowing they had little choice.) Only Eirwen was small enough to slip under a gap in the chicken wire, winning herself the nickname “Slither.” By the end of the evening, the name had stuck fast. Remus saw how she smiled shyly each time someone said it.
The same evening Eirwen got her name, after most of the pack had drifted away to their various sleeping spots, Remus found himself the last one around the fire aside from Serena, with Joy dozing on her lap. He was wondering if he ought to leave and go to sleep as well, afraid his presence was disturbing Serena, when she spoke.
“She came from Greyback’s pack,” Serena said.
“Pardon?”
“I’ve seen you watching Slither, wondering why we haven’t accepted her sooner. That’s why. Because she ran with Greyback’s pack first.”
“Oh,” Remus said. “I see.” And he did.
“She turned up here saying Greyback had bitten her and wanted her in his pack, but that she managed to run away after a couple months and find her way up north to us. Which is probably true.” Serena gave Remus a sharp look. “You think we’re too careful?”
“No,” Remus said. He could imagine their concerns all too well: Had Eirwen truly escaped from a pack where she’d been held unwillingly? Or was she Greyback’s spy and only acting the part of the scared runaway? “I understand your concerns when it comes to Greyback.”
Serena gazed at him across the fire, her hands running idly over Joy’s hair in its neat, fine plaits. “What’s your complaint with Greyback? You can’t have experienced his cruelty firsthand, as some of us here have done.”
Remus hesitated. He was accustomed to being among humans, for whom the only thing worse than a werewolf was a werewolf who’d been turned by another, more notoriously bloodthirsty werewolf. But these were not judgemental humans, and honesty was his policy here. “He’s the werewolf who turned me,” he said.
Serena sucked in a breath, audible despite the crackling of the fire. “Ah,” she said. “I see.”
Remus hated telling this story. But to learn more about the others, he knew he had to give of himself as well. And perhaps Serena, as a fellow werewolf, would understand.
“I was just a small child when I was bitten,” he said. “Well, I suppose that must apply to most of us. Adult victims less often survive.”
Serena nodded her silent agreement.
“My father insulted Greyback and Greyback took revenge. I was so young, I hardly have memories from before I was bitten. But I know it changed everything for my parents. They put everything they had into trying to find a cure. But of course, there is no cure.”
Serena gave a bitter laugh. “Nice of them. About all the help my parents ever gave me was making sure the cellar door was firmly locked when they put me in there every full moon.”
“How old were you?” Remus asked softly.
“When I was bitten? Ten. Just old enough to be really looking forward to my school letter. Then one night in the wrong place at the wrong time, and all that was left of my life was being kept out of public as much as possible and locked up every month. When I was fourteen, I was finally strong enough to break out and run away.”
“While you were transformed?” Remus asked, aghast. “Did you hurt anyone?”
“No.” Serena’s expression darkened. “I used to wish I had done, though.” Then, with a glance at Remus, “Oh, don’t look so righteous. You’d understand if you’d seen the way my father looked at me, in the years after I was bitten. The disgust on his face.”
There was nothing Remus could say to that. At least his own parents had always looked at him with love, despite his disease.
For a while, there was no sound but the fire, crackling and spitting as it slowly died down to embers. Then Serena asked, “But you still went to wizarding school?”
Remus nodded. “My parents pushed very hard on my behalf, and Albus Dumbledore did a great thing by believing I could attend Hogwarts without harming the other students.”
“You think he did you some big favour, letting you into his school?” Serena demanded, holding Joy’s sleeping form a little tighter. “Didn’t that only put off the day when you’d end up getting rejected from their world? Gave you false hope, strung you along for long enough that you’ll never truly belong in either place.”
“I – no. I don’t see it that way,” Remus said. “Dumbledore gave me opportunities I would never have had otherwise. I only wish all werewolf children could have the same.”
“Well, thanks for your concern, but we’ll take a pass on that all the same.” Serena glared into the fire. Then, in a low, accusatory tone, she asked, “Why come here, then? If your life in the city was so wonderful?”
This was where Remus must be cautious in what he said. He needed to justify his presence here, while maintaining his own commitment not to say anything he didn’t feel to be the truth.
“It wasn’t all wonderful,” he said slowly. “Hogwarts, yes, I very much enjoyed my time there. But life afterwards…has been difficult. You know the prejudices against werewolves. I could never hold down a job for long. Living among wizards, one grows accustomed to being second class, being passed over, being spat upon. It’s a hard society in which to make a life.”
“Then, why now?” Serena pressed, finally looking at him instead of the fire. “Why choose to live in the city for so long, only to leave it now, after all this time?”
Remus laced his fingers together over one knee, gazed down at them and wondered how much to say.
“I had very dear friends,” he said, finally. “People who accepted me as a person, rather than as the dangerous beast the rest of the world saw. They…made life among humans worth living.” He felt that old tightness in his throat. So many years had passed, and still he could not speak of James and Lily without pain. And Sirius –
He didn’t think he could bear to speak of Sirius at all.
“But I lost them,” he said roughly. His voice choked off and he couldn’t stand to continue.
In truth, it was a lie of omission. Remus had not lost all his friends. Far too many of them, but not all. Molly and Arthur, Harry – Tonks –
But they would be safer without him, surely. He was not wrong in implying to Serena that he had good reason to leave the human world behind.
Serena was watching him sharply, but she didn’t press him to say more. The fire crackled, slowly dying.
“What about you?” Remus asked, when the painful tightness in his throat had subsided and he could speak again. He glanced over at Serena. “Would you ever consider living among wizards?”
She stared at him, one hand drifting to rest protectively at the crown of Joy’s head. “Why would I want to do that?”
“For…a roof over your head? Medical care? A safe home for the child?”
“And give up our culture, our traditions, our running free at each full moon? I rejoin the Mother every full moon, when I return to my wolf body. Could you even see the moon from wherever they locked you up when you transformed?” She shivered, and her arms tightened around the child in her lap.
“No one locked me up,” Remus said firmly. “I chose where to be each full moon, somewhere where I could be certain I would harm no one. I can’t say a sightline to the moon was my highest priority.”
“And I say that’s terribly sad. Such a terrible price your wolf self had to pay.”
Remus had nothing to say to that. It was simply a fundamental difference of opinion. He leaned closer to the last remnants of the fire, feeling the night growing colder around them.
“I suppose you’ll go back to the city eventually,” Serena said after a time. “Once you’re done having this little back-to-the-land holiday, or whatever this is for you.”
Remus chuckled at that bizarre image – hardscrabble survival on the open moorland as romantic back-to-the-land holiday – and Serena too, almost unwillingly, smiled a little in the direction of the fire.
“I don’t understand why you all insist on calling it ‘city’ and ‘country,’” Remus said, shifting his legs a little closer to the fire, straightening them out so his knees didn’t ache so. “I’m no city-dweller. I grew up in the countryside and I’ve spent very little of my life in cities.”
“Cities mean wizards and wizards mean cities,” Serena answered dismissively. “And cities are no place for a werewolf. Unless you want to spend all your full moons in a cellar.”
Or in a dilapidated shack, Remus reluctantly added to himself. Or in the very worst of cases, a holding cell deep in the bowels of the Ministry, a fate I’d wish on no one.
“So, do you?” Serena’s voice interrupted his thoughts. “Plan on going back there?”
“I can’t say I’ve ever been able to plan very far ahead in my life.”
He could hope, certainly. But Remus had lived long enough to know that such hopes generally counted for little.
Serena laughed, the first sound of mirth he’d heard from her, a sharp sound like a dog’s bark. Remus’ heart clenched, because it reminded him so much of Sirius.
“Well, you’ve got that right, at least,” Serena said. “A werewolf knows better than to try to plan ahead. We see ourselves through this winter, and if we make it, we try to see ourselves through the next one.” She cocked her head at Remus. “We’ll see how long you stick it out here once the winter starts, shall we?” Her look plainly said she doubted he had the requisite toughness.
Remus smiled. “Yes, we’ll see.”
Serena nodded, as though an important element of their conversation had concluded. Then she gave a small sigh and began to gather Joy up in her arms, preparing to stand. “I’m going to sleep. Will you bank the fire?”
As she struggled to push herself up from the ground with the sleeping child in her arms, Remus hurried to his feet. “Let me help you,” he offered.
Serena gave him a wary glance, but allowed him to lift the girl from her lap, then place her back in Serena’s arms once she was standing. Again Remus wanted to ask their history, how Serena had ended up raising her sister’s daughter, but he didn’t dare.
“Thank you,” Serena said, sounding almost bashful.
“You’re welcome,” Remus replied, hearing his voice go gravelly with emotion. It was something about the innocence of a child, that sleeping weight in his arms. “Good night.”
Serena nodded and made her way across the clearing to the little shelter of branches that she and Joy shared. Remus banked the fire, but stood a long time over it, pensive. He was thinking of Tonks, although he was trying very hard not to.
They made life among humans worth living, he’d told Serena. He’d been speaking of the friends he’d lost, Lily and James and Sirius. But Tonks, too, had made the struggle that was Remus’ human life worth living. Worth it and more.
But he had done the right thing in setting her free to live her own life. He must, must, keep reminding himself of that.
Chapter end note:
I know the werewolf pack makes for a lot of OCs to keep track of (and on top of that, I gave each character two names rather than just one!) so now that they've all been introduced, I'm going to start including a list of their names and brief descriptions at the end of each chapter where they appear.
(continue to CHAPTER SEVEN: Enquiring Minds)
Summary: In which Remus and Tonks fight battles, arrest criminals, befriend werewolves, overcome inner demons and, despite it all, find themselves a happy ending. A love story, and a story of the Order years. (My Remus/Tonks epic, which has been years in the making! This is the second half of the story, set in the Half-Blood Prince year.)
Chapter 6: Knocking on Doors
But give me to a rambling man
Let it always be known that I was who I am
–Laura Marling, Rambling Man
With the Hogsmeade census list in hand, Tonks started knocking on doors, chatting and smiling and asking friendly questions. It was gratifying to see that even in these days of high suspicion, she was still capable of charming the neighbours into talking with her.
It was tiring, having to act cheerful every day when she herself didn’t feel cheerful, but it got results. In the margins of the census list, Tonks kept notes on anything that might prove relevant. (“Has son in 3rd yr at Hogwarts” or “Thinks Hogsmeade should institute night curfew” or “Seemed shifty at first, but turned out was b/c thought I’d come to check if Floo connection was up to code.”)
She made the rounds of Hogsmeade’s shops, too, striking up small talk as a way to scent out people’s interests, concerns and allegiances. She took to dropping in at the Three Broomsticks sometimes during the afternoon lull between lunch and dinner, and found Rosmerta just as cheerful and good-natured as Tonks remembered from her school days. If anything, Rosmerta’s only fault was that she was perhaps too eager to be likeable, which could make her easily influenced.
Tonks also made a new friend in the jovial old proprietor of Scrivenshaft’s, one of the few people in Hogsmeade who remained unbowed by the gloom that had taken hold of the country. Tonks enjoyed their conversations, though he was often distracted by a need to pull from the shelves an ever-growing stack of books he felt she absolutely must read.
His young shop assistant was likewise just as friendly in person as he’d seemed whenever Tonks passed by the shop. In fact, she got an alarming sense that he was trying to work up the courage to ask her out for a drink, and she ended up ducking out of their conversation a little sooner than she would normally have done.
Tonks even managed – eventually, despite his ably avoiding her for many days – to meet face to face with Aberforth Dumbledore. Because, yes, that was who the owner of the Hog’s Head Inn turned out to be. Tonks gave him grudging credit for an impressive job of hiding in plain sight: the brother of Britain’s most notable wizard running a pub right there in Britain’s only all-wizarding village, and no one seemed to know he was there. He was also, it turned out, a member of the Order, despite never having attended a meeting as far as Tonks could remember. Perhaps being Dumbledore the Younger got him special dispensation.
Stepping back out to the pavement in front of the pub after their highly uninformative chat – the younger brother didn’t give away information any more easily than the elder – Tonks fastened her cloak against the autumn wind and turned her steps towards the Aurors’ headquarters, where it was time for their latest check-in meeting.
“Ministry’s made an arrest,” Savage said as soon as Tonks stepped in the door, clumsily unfastening her cloak with chilled fingers.
Her head snapped up. “Who? Think it’s a valid lead?”
“Too soon to say for certain,” Proudfoot answered. He and Dawlish were seated at the kitchen table. “But have you ever ridden the Knight Bus? They’ve arrested that kid who works as the conductor. Stan Shunpike.”
Tonks thought of riding the Knight Bus the previous winter with Remus, when they’d chaperoned the kids back to Hogwarts after the Christmas holidays. The conductor had seemed not only gawky and harmless, but positively intimidated by her when she used her Auror voice on him.
“No way,” she said, dropping into the seat across from Dawlish and rubbing her hands together to warm them up. “They think he’s working for the Death Eaters?”
“That’s what Robards is saying,” Proudfoot said, scratching his nose. He sounded doubtful.
“You think Robards would have authorised the arrest if it weren’t true?” Dawlish countered.
Yes. Because he’s getting desperate to make it look like he’s managed to do something since taking over the department from Scrimgeour, Tonks thought. But she didn’t say it.
“Also, things at Hogwarts aren’t looking so good,” Proudfoot continued.
“Why? What’s happened?” Tonks felt her heart leap to her throat. Surely she’d have heard right away if anything had happened to one of the kids?
“Oh, it’s the just parents, getting nervous,” Savage said dismissively. “A few have decided to pull their kids out of school, thinking they’ll be safer at home. It’s not good for morale. Scrimgeour wants Dumbledore to do something to reassure the students’ families.”
“Maybe Dumbledore could get the Potter kid to put out a statement saying how well-protected he feels at Hogwarts,” Dawlish added.
“So, Tonks…” Proudfoot put in, and Tonks realised they must have discussed this before she’d come in. He raised an eyebrow at her. “How about taking a run at the old man? He seems to like you. Maybe he’ll listen to reason, if you’re the one saying it. Think you could talk him into working with us for once?”
“I can’t promise I’ll be able to get him to go along with what the Ministry wants,” she said cautiously. “But I’ll see if I can get a meeting with him.”
“Good sport,” said Proudfoot approvingly.
Good luck, thought Tonks.
But Dumbledore responded to her request for a meeting with alacrity. She sent him a Post Office owl when she left Dawlish and Savage’s flat, and the return owl arrived that evening as she sat in bed reading over her census list notes.
The next afternoon, the headmaster ushered her into his office with the same good cheer as always.
“How is Hogsmeade?” Dumbledore asked, once Tonks was perched on a chair across from where he sat behind his desk. “Are you settling in all right, away from London?”
Dumbledore being Dumbledore, it was impossible to judge whether he was truly just asking how she liked Hogsmeade, or if he was probing to find out how she was doing with Remus gone, and without Sirius. Given the option of open interpretation, Tonks chose to answer the question at face value.
“It’s fine, sir. I’ve found ways to keep busy.”
Dumbledore’s eyes twinkled. “So I’ve heard.” At her surprised look, he said, “I do have my sources.” And belatedly Tonks remembered, again, that his own brother was right there in Hogsmeade. The man did have a way of slipping out of view.
“So,” Dumbledore continued. “I imagine you’ve been sent here with a message for me on behalf of the Aurors?”
“You did that on purpose, didn’t you?” Tonks asked. “Set it up so the others would think I was the one they’d best send to talk to you?”
Dumbledore twinkled, if possible, even more. “Wouldn’t you have done the same?”
“Er, I suppose,” Tonks said. “Anyway, I’m sure I’m not telling you anything you don’t already know, but the Ministry wants you to reassure parents that their children are safe here. Lean on Harry to issue a statement about what a wonderful job he thinks the Ministry’s doing in fending off Voldemort, or something like that.”
“Which you, of course, know I will not do,” Dumbledore replied, his tone pleasant.
“Right, yeah. I mean, I did figure.”
“So let us talk of other things,” Dumbledore proposed.
Tonks nodded. She supposed that was good enough to be able to say she’d discharged the absurd duty assigned to her, of trying to convince Albus Dumbledore of anything.
Dumbledore gazed at her keenly over his half-moon spectacles. “I may find it necessary to be absent from Hogwarts frequently this year. This is in pursuit of certain researches of my own, the particulars of which I’m afraid I can’t reveal at the present, but which I assure you are relevant to our struggle.”
“Ah,” said Tonks. She had no idea why he was telling her this.
“Whenever I am forced to be away from the school for any period of time, I shall ask members of the Order to come and keep watch here in my stead.”
“Ah,” Tonks said again, but with more understanding.
“I hope not to need to call on your services, as I would prefer not to draw the Ministry’s attention to my absences and you are a Ministry employee, albeit a highly discreet one,” Dumbledore said with an inclination of his head. “But if I should occasionally need to ask you to patrol at Hogwarts in addition to your normal duties, would you be amenable?”
“Of course,” Tonks said.
It saddened her to think he no longer trusted the Ministry with the school’s safety – in fact, no longer trusted anyone but the Order – but she could understand why he’d reached that point. Her double role as Auror and member of the Order of the Phoenix would continue to be a delicate balancing act.
– – – – –
Autumn tinged the moor with russet hues as the equinox arrived, quietly acknowledged by the pack as the moment in the year when day and night were of equal length, the world poised between the heights of summer left behind and the depths of winter still to come.
And in the days after his second full moon with the pack, Remus acquired a new nickname.
He’d taken to visiting that spot on the moor where the water trickled out from an exposed patch of ground whenever he had a moment free from the responsibilities of the pack. It did him good to have moments when he could slip away and be alone with nothing but the sound of trickling water and his own thoughts.
“Hey there, Peace and Quiet!” a voice boomed, and Remus almost toppled over, where he was crouched down with his eyes closed, listening to the moor.
He struggled to his feet and saw Jack, known within the pack as Thunderstorm, a big, brawny fair-skinned man whose bushy brown beard was shot through with grey. He’d stopped a few paces away from Remus and was smirking at him.
“Er, yes, hello,” Remus said.
He hadn’t heard Jack approaching. Nor had he smelled him. Remus knew that any of the others in the pack could have sensed Jack’s approach by smell alone.
“Enjoying the quiet?” Jack asked, still grinning at Remus.
“Yes,” Remus said politely. “After having lived in a city, I find I appreciate being able to hear water running, and the wind over the moor.”
“Well, well, the professor’s a poet too.” Jack shook his head and strode off in the direction of the camp, calling back, “Don’t be late, Rock Crag’s got a bonfire going.”
When Remus, too, returned not long after, he was met with a round of general laughter.
“Look, it’s Peace and Quiet!” called Ashmita, whose werewolf name was Rock Crag. She was a petite Indian woman with a bird-like build and a small pointed face. She had bright eyes, dark hair and a big, loud laugh that always took Remus by surprise when it emerged from her tiny frame, as it did now.
“Peace and Quiet, who likes listening to the moors,” giggled Tamara, or Blackthorn. Tamara laughed often, too, but it seemed to Remus her mirth was often at others’ expense, and her laugh wasn’t as kindly as Ashmita’s.
The next day, when the Alpha called Remus to him to assign a task, he summoned him with the words, “Quiet, come here a minute.” From then on, that stuck as Remus’ new name. Remus was glad – he liked “Quiet” far better than “City.”
A few days later, to Remus’ relief, young Eirwen finally acquired a werewolf name, too. She’d been scavenging for food with Ronan and Narun, and the three of them had raided a chicken coop in a village some distance away. (Remus tried to quiet his conscience on this aspect of how the pack fed themselves, knowing they had little choice.) Only Eirwen was small enough to slip under a gap in the chicken wire, winning herself the nickname “Slither.” By the end of the evening, the name had stuck fast. Remus saw how she smiled shyly each time someone said it.
The same evening Eirwen got her name, after most of the pack had drifted away to their various sleeping spots, Remus found himself the last one around the fire aside from Serena, with Joy dozing on her lap. He was wondering if he ought to leave and go to sleep as well, afraid his presence was disturbing Serena, when she spoke.
“She came from Greyback’s pack,” Serena said.
“Pardon?”
“I’ve seen you watching Slither, wondering why we haven’t accepted her sooner. That’s why. Because she ran with Greyback’s pack first.”
“Oh,” Remus said. “I see.” And he did.
“She turned up here saying Greyback had bitten her and wanted her in his pack, but that she managed to run away after a couple months and find her way up north to us. Which is probably true.” Serena gave Remus a sharp look. “You think we’re too careful?”
“No,” Remus said. He could imagine their concerns all too well: Had Eirwen truly escaped from a pack where she’d been held unwillingly? Or was she Greyback’s spy and only acting the part of the scared runaway? “I understand your concerns when it comes to Greyback.”
Serena gazed at him across the fire, her hands running idly over Joy’s hair in its neat, fine plaits. “What’s your complaint with Greyback? You can’t have experienced his cruelty firsthand, as some of us here have done.”
Remus hesitated. He was accustomed to being among humans, for whom the only thing worse than a werewolf was a werewolf who’d been turned by another, more notoriously bloodthirsty werewolf. But these were not judgemental humans, and honesty was his policy here. “He’s the werewolf who turned me,” he said.
Serena sucked in a breath, audible despite the crackling of the fire. “Ah,” she said. “I see.”
Remus hated telling this story. But to learn more about the others, he knew he had to give of himself as well. And perhaps Serena, as a fellow werewolf, would understand.
“I was just a small child when I was bitten,” he said. “Well, I suppose that must apply to most of us. Adult victims less often survive.”
Serena nodded her silent agreement.
“My father insulted Greyback and Greyback took revenge. I was so young, I hardly have memories from before I was bitten. But I know it changed everything for my parents. They put everything they had into trying to find a cure. But of course, there is no cure.”
Serena gave a bitter laugh. “Nice of them. About all the help my parents ever gave me was making sure the cellar door was firmly locked when they put me in there every full moon.”
“How old were you?” Remus asked softly.
“When I was bitten? Ten. Just old enough to be really looking forward to my school letter. Then one night in the wrong place at the wrong time, and all that was left of my life was being kept out of public as much as possible and locked up every month. When I was fourteen, I was finally strong enough to break out and run away.”
“While you were transformed?” Remus asked, aghast. “Did you hurt anyone?”
“No.” Serena’s expression darkened. “I used to wish I had done, though.” Then, with a glance at Remus, “Oh, don’t look so righteous. You’d understand if you’d seen the way my father looked at me, in the years after I was bitten. The disgust on his face.”
There was nothing Remus could say to that. At least his own parents had always looked at him with love, despite his disease.
For a while, there was no sound but the fire, crackling and spitting as it slowly died down to embers. Then Serena asked, “But you still went to wizarding school?”
Remus nodded. “My parents pushed very hard on my behalf, and Albus Dumbledore did a great thing by believing I could attend Hogwarts without harming the other students.”
“You think he did you some big favour, letting you into his school?” Serena demanded, holding Joy’s sleeping form a little tighter. “Didn’t that only put off the day when you’d end up getting rejected from their world? Gave you false hope, strung you along for long enough that you’ll never truly belong in either place.”
“I – no. I don’t see it that way,” Remus said. “Dumbledore gave me opportunities I would never have had otherwise. I only wish all werewolf children could have the same.”
“Well, thanks for your concern, but we’ll take a pass on that all the same.” Serena glared into the fire. Then, in a low, accusatory tone, she asked, “Why come here, then? If your life in the city was so wonderful?”
This was where Remus must be cautious in what he said. He needed to justify his presence here, while maintaining his own commitment not to say anything he didn’t feel to be the truth.
“It wasn’t all wonderful,” he said slowly. “Hogwarts, yes, I very much enjoyed my time there. But life afterwards…has been difficult. You know the prejudices against werewolves. I could never hold down a job for long. Living among wizards, one grows accustomed to being second class, being passed over, being spat upon. It’s a hard society in which to make a life.”
“Then, why now?” Serena pressed, finally looking at him instead of the fire. “Why choose to live in the city for so long, only to leave it now, after all this time?”
Remus laced his fingers together over one knee, gazed down at them and wondered how much to say.
“I had very dear friends,” he said, finally. “People who accepted me as a person, rather than as the dangerous beast the rest of the world saw. They…made life among humans worth living.” He felt that old tightness in his throat. So many years had passed, and still he could not speak of James and Lily without pain. And Sirius –
He didn’t think he could bear to speak of Sirius at all.
“But I lost them,” he said roughly. His voice choked off and he couldn’t stand to continue.
In truth, it was a lie of omission. Remus had not lost all his friends. Far too many of them, but not all. Molly and Arthur, Harry – Tonks –
But they would be safer without him, surely. He was not wrong in implying to Serena that he had good reason to leave the human world behind.
Serena was watching him sharply, but she didn’t press him to say more. The fire crackled, slowly dying.
“What about you?” Remus asked, when the painful tightness in his throat had subsided and he could speak again. He glanced over at Serena. “Would you ever consider living among wizards?”
She stared at him, one hand drifting to rest protectively at the crown of Joy’s head. “Why would I want to do that?”
“For…a roof over your head? Medical care? A safe home for the child?”
“And give up our culture, our traditions, our running free at each full moon? I rejoin the Mother every full moon, when I return to my wolf body. Could you even see the moon from wherever they locked you up when you transformed?” She shivered, and her arms tightened around the child in her lap.
“No one locked me up,” Remus said firmly. “I chose where to be each full moon, somewhere where I could be certain I would harm no one. I can’t say a sightline to the moon was my highest priority.”
“And I say that’s terribly sad. Such a terrible price your wolf self had to pay.”
Remus had nothing to say to that. It was simply a fundamental difference of opinion. He leaned closer to the last remnants of the fire, feeling the night growing colder around them.
“I suppose you’ll go back to the city eventually,” Serena said after a time. “Once you’re done having this little back-to-the-land holiday, or whatever this is for you.”
Remus chuckled at that bizarre image – hardscrabble survival on the open moorland as romantic back-to-the-land holiday – and Serena too, almost unwillingly, smiled a little in the direction of the fire.
“I don’t understand why you all insist on calling it ‘city’ and ‘country,’” Remus said, shifting his legs a little closer to the fire, straightening them out so his knees didn’t ache so. “I’m no city-dweller. I grew up in the countryside and I’ve spent very little of my life in cities.”
“Cities mean wizards and wizards mean cities,” Serena answered dismissively. “And cities are no place for a werewolf. Unless you want to spend all your full moons in a cellar.”
Or in a dilapidated shack, Remus reluctantly added to himself. Or in the very worst of cases, a holding cell deep in the bowels of the Ministry, a fate I’d wish on no one.
“So, do you?” Serena’s voice interrupted his thoughts. “Plan on going back there?”
“I can’t say I’ve ever been able to plan very far ahead in my life.”
He could hope, certainly. But Remus had lived long enough to know that such hopes generally counted for little.
Serena laughed, the first sound of mirth he’d heard from her, a sharp sound like a dog’s bark. Remus’ heart clenched, because it reminded him so much of Sirius.
“Well, you’ve got that right, at least,” Serena said. “A werewolf knows better than to try to plan ahead. We see ourselves through this winter, and if we make it, we try to see ourselves through the next one.” She cocked her head at Remus. “We’ll see how long you stick it out here once the winter starts, shall we?” Her look plainly said she doubted he had the requisite toughness.
Remus smiled. “Yes, we’ll see.”
Serena nodded, as though an important element of their conversation had concluded. Then she gave a small sigh and began to gather Joy up in her arms, preparing to stand. “I’m going to sleep. Will you bank the fire?”
As she struggled to push herself up from the ground with the sleeping child in her arms, Remus hurried to his feet. “Let me help you,” he offered.
Serena gave him a wary glance, but allowed him to lift the girl from her lap, then place her back in Serena’s arms once she was standing. Again Remus wanted to ask their history, how Serena had ended up raising her sister’s daughter, but he didn’t dare.
“Thank you,” Serena said, sounding almost bashful.
“You’re welcome,” Remus replied, hearing his voice go gravelly with emotion. It was something about the innocence of a child, that sleeping weight in his arms. “Good night.”
Serena nodded and made her way across the clearing to the little shelter of branches that she and Joy shared. Remus banked the fire, but stood a long time over it, pensive. He was thinking of Tonks, although he was trying very hard not to.
They made life among humans worth living, he’d told Serena. He’d been speaking of the friends he’d lost, Lily and James and Sirius. But Tonks, too, had made the struggle that was Remus’ human life worth living. Worth it and more.
But he had done the right thing in setting her free to live her own life. He must, must, keep reminding himself of that.
Chapter end note:
I know the werewolf pack makes for a lot of OCs to keep track of (and on top of that, I gave each character two names rather than just one!) so now that they've all been introduced, I'm going to start including a list of their names and brief descriptions at the end of each chapter where they appear.
The werewolf pack:
the Alpha, a male in his 40s, the pack's leader
Anna, or the Mother, the oldest pack member, symbolic mother of all
Brighid, or Fire, the Alpha's mate, roughly his age
Serena, or Trouble, roughly Remus' age
Jack, or Thunderstorm, a little younger than the Alpha, Ashmita's mate
Ashmita, or Rock Crag, Jack's mate
Ronan, or Hardwood, young adult member of the pack, perhaps 20
Narun, or Rapids, roughly the same age
Adair, or Jump, roughly the same age
Tamara, or Blackthorn, roughly the same age
Eirwen, or Slither, a young teenager, 13 or 14
Joy, or River Run, the pack's youngest member, 6 or 7
(continue to CHAPTER SEVEN: Enquiring Minds)
