DISCLAIMER: A lot of what you're about to read is property of J.K.
Rowling, Scholastic, and Warner Brothers. Parts of it are mine... If you
recognize it, it's not, though. I made no money from the story, even the
parts that are mine.
A/N: This story takes place a couple weeks after Halloween, 1981.
*************
Soft, terrified gasps, tremulous moans, and the occasional weak sob punctuated the desperate silence of Azkaban prison. A series of ghastly screams ripped through the stillness, effectively jarring every prisoner in Azkaban from their beds. After several minutes, the screams calmed back to the whimpers and gasps.
Remus tentatively uncurled from the ball he'd made of himself. Dimly, the young werewolf recalled being Stunned and dragged through the dirt and gravel and slung onto the bottom of a boat. He gauged the damage: scratches across his chest and back, a large chunk out of his leg, and a sickeningly familiar pain in his arm that told him he'd probably twisted the wrist. He had screamed his throat raw. He managed to force himself onto all fours, but he fell back to the ground with a thud.
*Where in the hell am I?* Remus thought, horrified.
"Lupin! Get up!"
At the harsh bark of a command from across the holding cell, Remus struggled to sit up, pushing the shredded robes across his lap for modesty's sake. He raked a grimy hand through his knotted hair and asked, "Why am I here?"
"We need you to answer some questions regarding the murders of the Potters and Peter Pettigrew."
"Oh." Of course, he had expected that. He had just hoped that the Ministry would be considerate enough to give him a few days to recover from the full moon, perhaps owing the fact that three of the four friends he'd ever had were dead. "May I have something with which to cover myself?"
The ruthless voice snorted; the cell door was unlocked, and two of the Aurors he knew to be entrenched in Fudge's camp came in with manacles. Lupin closed his eyes as very strong hands grabbed him and held him down. The other wizard began to lock the shackles around his wrists; Remus hissed as his flesh sizzled.
"Those are silver," he said, praying that it was a careless mistake. A sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach told him it wasn't.
"That's the point, Lupin," the first Auror said. He tightened the restraints, and Remus bit through his lip in an attempt not to scream. Angry heat scorched his wrists and the small of his back, where the chain brushed obtrusively against him.
They pushed him out of the holding cell and flanked him as they made their way down the hall and into an interrogation room. Inside the room, a dumpy woman in a nurse's uniform regarded Remus with a look of utter disgust. The strong Auror flung him into a chair, and chains immediately sprung from the arms and legs of it to restrain him.
"We're going to administer Veritaserum now. The Minister is watching us through that mirror," the strong Auror gestured to a two way mirror which took up the entire far-left wall. "Everything you say is being recorded. Do you understand?"
"I want to see Headmaster Dumbledore," the young werewolf rasped. He tried to keep his voice strong, commanding, but the weariness that usually confined him to bed for days after the transformations was clawing at his awareness.
"Do you understand that your words are being observed and recorded by the Minister and his staff?"
"I must speak to Dumbledore."
"Yes or no, wolf," said the uncaring Auror, viscously cracking Remus across the face.
"I understand, yes, but-"
"Dumbledore has no power here."
Remus snorted; he could not imagine that there was a place in the entire wizarding world where Albus Dumbledore had no power. "I think that you'll find that you are mistaken in that belief, sir."
"Madam Larkin, please administer the potion," said the strong Auror.
"Four drops," said his partner.
"Three is customary, Auror Parker."
*Madam Larkin, Auror Parker,* Remus thought to himself. His years in the Order of the Phoenix had taught him to learn and recognize all names and locations when being held prisoner. Even though they were probably just prejudiced and not evil, Remus figured it couldn't hurt. At the very least, it would distract him from what were probably second degree burns searing up and down his wrists and back.
"Werewolves have notoriously strong metabolisms. He'll need four."
"Open your mouth, you," Madam Larkin said gruffly. Remus thought he caught something like regret in her eyes as she administered four drops of the powerful serum.
The room swam as tears rose in his eyes. His stomach rebelled gleefully, and Remus gagged, violently straining against the chains holding him to the chair. They cut into his arms and legs, drawing blood. The nameless Auror clamped his hand over Remus's mouth, forcing him to keep the Veritaserum down. Swallowing his own vomit, Remus felt his will melting away.
"Can you hear me?" Parker asked coldly.
*He's obviously the senior Auror.* "Yes."
"Is your name Remus Julius Lupin?"
"Yes."
"Are you a werewolf?"
"Yes."
"Are you here voluntarily?"
"No."
"Strike that from the record, Harris."
"Right."
*Aurors Parker and Harris, Nurse Larkin.*
For the next three hours, the questions rained hard and heavy. "Did you know of James Potter's plan to use the Fidelius Charm?" "Did you know who he used as Secret Keeper?" "Where were you on the night of October 31, 1981?" "Where was Sirius Black on the night of October 31, 1981?"
"Are you now or have you ever been in contact with Death Eaters?"
"Yes." *Damn it, of course I have been, the whole Order has been!*
"Who?"
"Th-there were so many of them at school," Remus said, stalling for time. So few people knew about Severus's change of heart. He, Dumbledore, and McGonagall were the only ones with any idea; mentioning his name would condemn him to the Kiss... Remus harbored no love for the Slytherin, but he did not want to be responsible for that. "Um... L-Lucius Malfoy was two or three years ahead of me, we didn't talk much. The Black sisters- Narcissa and Bella, not Andromeda... but I never talked to them, either. Lucius and Alexandre wouldn't stand for it. Lestrange, I'm fairly certain... Alexandre Lestrange. Um... Sirius and Regulus Black... But you know that... Sev-" *NO!* "Sev-Sever-Several others..."
"You're being too general, Parker," Harris said. "He went to school with about a hundred Death Eaters."
Remus felt himself begin to tremble, the uncontrollable spasms nearly knocking the interrogation chair over. Parker smacked him again; after nearly three hours, Remus was pretty sure his entire jaw was black and blue, and he could taste the blood oozing from where he had bitten his tongue.
"Fine. Where do your loyalties lie, wolf?"
"I always have and always will humbly serve Albus Dumbledore and the Order of the Phoenix."
"He's resisting."
"I've already given him more than I should have."
"WHAT IS THE MEANING OF THIS?"
Even under the influence of the serum, Remus couldn't suppress a flinch as Dumbledore's angry voice ripped through the interrogation room. "Give him the antidote. You are releasing him to me immediately."
"Professor Dumbledore, I hardly think-"
"That is abundantly clear to me, Michael." He leaned over the chair; the moment he touched it, the chains fell away. A papery, gentle hand stroked Remus's face, and the bruises melted away. "I'm here now, my dear child. You're safe now. You are under my protection. My poor boy... my poor, sweet boy..."
"You came," Remus whispered. Maybe the Headmaster did not trust him, but at least he wasn't abandoning him.
"What is this? On his wrists? You used silver? That is cruel and unusual. Cornelius! I know you're listening, get in here now."
A few drops slid down his throat, and the dullness around his head fell away. Pain shot through every inch of his body, and finally understanding perfectly, he reached desperately for the Headmaster, feeling like a lost child. Dumbledore held him, gently rubbing his back, slow, calming circles.
All around him, the argument raged, loud and painfully striking his sensitive hearing. "Headmaster," he whispered, tugging desperately on the man's robes to pull his attention from the screaming. This was too much; the screaming ripped at his brain. "Please... it's all legal... I just want to go home... Please..."
"We're not finished with him yet," Harris snarled.
"I think you are," Dumbledore corrected sharply. He whirled on Fudge, his eyes snapping with fury. "Hear my words, Cornelius. This child is under my protection. If you ever lay hands on him again without receiving my permission, you will regret it."
"I beg your pardon, Albus, was that a threat?"
"If you like," the Headmaster said, his voice dangerously soft. "Release him to my care immediately."
Fudge growled, "It's your funeral."
Draping a soft, warm velvet robe over Remus's shoulders, Dumbledore guided the young man from the interrogation room. As they reached the Apparation point, Remus asked, "Why are you doing this? It was all legal... They're just going to be angrier..."
"Their whims to not affect me, Remus, nor should they you."
"You have rights, Headmaster. I haven't. I live and die according to their whims..." He felt as though he'd never be able to run again, as though every ounce of motivation and energy had been sucked out of him. As his body trembled, his heart broke. He forced thoughts of Sirius out of his head- Sirius, the energetic, charismatic, beautiful young man he had known for over ten years, the young man who was currently imprisoned in the hellhole the Headmaster was gently guiding him away from. It felt wrong. So damn wrong.
Dumbledore was silent. He wanted to deny it, to promise that he would protect the boy. The words refused to come. The *lies* refused to come.
"They're going to punish me for this," Remus whispered.
"My child-"
"It's who I am, Headmaster---" When Dumbledore opened his mouth to protest, Remus shook his head. "Not all of who I am, just a part, I know, but it's all they see. You and... and James and Peter saw the other parts, too, but they don't. It's all right. I understand. I just... It's who I am." He snorted disdainfully. "No. Excuse me. It's *what* I am."
"Remus-"
"I need to be alone, Headmaster. Thank you for what you did back there, and thank you for caring... But... I need to be alone now."
Dumbledore managed to hide his shock. None of his children had ever rebuffed him so blatantly before, and Remus was the last one he would have ever expected to do so... But it only made sense. He had always been a private child. This was hardly the time to work on social skills with the young werewolf.
"If you change your mind... If you need to talk to me... Or Minerva... Just owl the school, and we'll be there for you immediately."
"Thank you, sir."
Remus Apparated just outside the wards of Caelum, the Lupin family estate, still clutching Dumbledore's robe around him. He stumbled through the gate and up to the cottage. Barely inside, he heard the small, squeaky voice of the House Elf ask, "Master is needing Daffodil's help?"
"I... I don't think I can get up to my room..." Remus murmured.
"Master is going to the parlor," the Elf said authoritatively. She tugged on the robe and fairly dragged Remus into the living room. After he had curled on the sofa, the Elf said, "Daffodil is bringing Master's pajamas and blankets down... And Master is needing to eat."
"I'm not hungry-"
"Master must eat."
"Yes, ma'am," Remus sighed, chuckling a little despite his weariness. "But not a lot... Soup?"
"Potato soup, Master Remy, just like Master likes it when he's sick," she promised kindly. "Is Master wanting pajamas, or lounging clothes?"
"Something warm," the young werewolf sighed, nestling beneath the cloak.
Under her breath, Daffodil grumbled, "Master is going to give himself a fever..."
"Master can't stop shivering, Daffy; he's got one already," Remus said, teasing gently.
Sensing his mood, Daffodil said, "Master has to learn to respect his elders."
It was an old joke between the two of them, something they had played at since Remus's childhood. "I swear to Merlin, one of these days, I'm going to give you clothes."
That elicited a laugh from Daffodil. "Master does not even know how to work the stove; Master would eat frozen Muggle food for the rest of Master's life without his Daffodil."
"As fun as this is... I'm sort of lying here naked right now..."
"Of course, Master, Daffodil is bringing Master's clothes."
"Thank you," Remus called after the Elf as she popped away. The Elf reappeared seconds later and carefully helped Remus dress. With almost maternal care, she tucked him beneath warm, goose down quilts. "May I eat after my nap?"
Daffodil made a noise closely akin to a growl, but since his eyes were already fluttering, she said, "Master will eat as soon as he wakes up. And Daffodil *will know* when Master wakes up."
"Yes, ma'am," Remus murmured into his pillow as the world flickered into darkness.
A/N: Does it stop here? Um... To be honest, I don't know. It seems like a natural stopping point, but I might have an idea. I don't know if it's an idea or superfluous Lupin-worship. What do y'all think? Do I stop, or do I commence with the superfluous Lupin-worship?
BTW, those of you who are waiting for the Snape and Malfoys story, I'm afraid it'll be awhile longer yet. It could actually be a good thing. I can't write Snape because I'm happy, and it's hard to write Snape when one is happy. So... it's coming. I'll get depressed soon, promise (
A/N: This story takes place a couple weeks after Halloween, 1981.
*************
Soft, terrified gasps, tremulous moans, and the occasional weak sob punctuated the desperate silence of Azkaban prison. A series of ghastly screams ripped through the stillness, effectively jarring every prisoner in Azkaban from their beds. After several minutes, the screams calmed back to the whimpers and gasps.
Remus tentatively uncurled from the ball he'd made of himself. Dimly, the young werewolf recalled being Stunned and dragged through the dirt and gravel and slung onto the bottom of a boat. He gauged the damage: scratches across his chest and back, a large chunk out of his leg, and a sickeningly familiar pain in his arm that told him he'd probably twisted the wrist. He had screamed his throat raw. He managed to force himself onto all fours, but he fell back to the ground with a thud.
*Where in the hell am I?* Remus thought, horrified.
"Lupin! Get up!"
At the harsh bark of a command from across the holding cell, Remus struggled to sit up, pushing the shredded robes across his lap for modesty's sake. He raked a grimy hand through his knotted hair and asked, "Why am I here?"
"We need you to answer some questions regarding the murders of the Potters and Peter Pettigrew."
"Oh." Of course, he had expected that. He had just hoped that the Ministry would be considerate enough to give him a few days to recover from the full moon, perhaps owing the fact that three of the four friends he'd ever had were dead. "May I have something with which to cover myself?"
The ruthless voice snorted; the cell door was unlocked, and two of the Aurors he knew to be entrenched in Fudge's camp came in with manacles. Lupin closed his eyes as very strong hands grabbed him and held him down. The other wizard began to lock the shackles around his wrists; Remus hissed as his flesh sizzled.
"Those are silver," he said, praying that it was a careless mistake. A sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach told him it wasn't.
"That's the point, Lupin," the first Auror said. He tightened the restraints, and Remus bit through his lip in an attempt not to scream. Angry heat scorched his wrists and the small of his back, where the chain brushed obtrusively against him.
They pushed him out of the holding cell and flanked him as they made their way down the hall and into an interrogation room. Inside the room, a dumpy woman in a nurse's uniform regarded Remus with a look of utter disgust. The strong Auror flung him into a chair, and chains immediately sprung from the arms and legs of it to restrain him.
"We're going to administer Veritaserum now. The Minister is watching us through that mirror," the strong Auror gestured to a two way mirror which took up the entire far-left wall. "Everything you say is being recorded. Do you understand?"
"I want to see Headmaster Dumbledore," the young werewolf rasped. He tried to keep his voice strong, commanding, but the weariness that usually confined him to bed for days after the transformations was clawing at his awareness.
"Do you understand that your words are being observed and recorded by the Minister and his staff?"
"I must speak to Dumbledore."
"Yes or no, wolf," said the uncaring Auror, viscously cracking Remus across the face.
"I understand, yes, but-"
"Dumbledore has no power here."
Remus snorted; he could not imagine that there was a place in the entire wizarding world where Albus Dumbledore had no power. "I think that you'll find that you are mistaken in that belief, sir."
"Madam Larkin, please administer the potion," said the strong Auror.
"Four drops," said his partner.
"Three is customary, Auror Parker."
*Madam Larkin, Auror Parker,* Remus thought to himself. His years in the Order of the Phoenix had taught him to learn and recognize all names and locations when being held prisoner. Even though they were probably just prejudiced and not evil, Remus figured it couldn't hurt. At the very least, it would distract him from what were probably second degree burns searing up and down his wrists and back.
"Werewolves have notoriously strong metabolisms. He'll need four."
"Open your mouth, you," Madam Larkin said gruffly. Remus thought he caught something like regret in her eyes as she administered four drops of the powerful serum.
The room swam as tears rose in his eyes. His stomach rebelled gleefully, and Remus gagged, violently straining against the chains holding him to the chair. They cut into his arms and legs, drawing blood. The nameless Auror clamped his hand over Remus's mouth, forcing him to keep the Veritaserum down. Swallowing his own vomit, Remus felt his will melting away.
"Can you hear me?" Parker asked coldly.
*He's obviously the senior Auror.* "Yes."
"Is your name Remus Julius Lupin?"
"Yes."
"Are you a werewolf?"
"Yes."
"Are you here voluntarily?"
"No."
"Strike that from the record, Harris."
"Right."
*Aurors Parker and Harris, Nurse Larkin.*
For the next three hours, the questions rained hard and heavy. "Did you know of James Potter's plan to use the Fidelius Charm?" "Did you know who he used as Secret Keeper?" "Where were you on the night of October 31, 1981?" "Where was Sirius Black on the night of October 31, 1981?"
"Are you now or have you ever been in contact with Death Eaters?"
"Yes." *Damn it, of course I have been, the whole Order has been!*
"Who?"
"Th-there were so many of them at school," Remus said, stalling for time. So few people knew about Severus's change of heart. He, Dumbledore, and McGonagall were the only ones with any idea; mentioning his name would condemn him to the Kiss... Remus harbored no love for the Slytherin, but he did not want to be responsible for that. "Um... L-Lucius Malfoy was two or three years ahead of me, we didn't talk much. The Black sisters- Narcissa and Bella, not Andromeda... but I never talked to them, either. Lucius and Alexandre wouldn't stand for it. Lestrange, I'm fairly certain... Alexandre Lestrange. Um... Sirius and Regulus Black... But you know that... Sev-" *NO!* "Sev-Sever-Several others..."
"You're being too general, Parker," Harris said. "He went to school with about a hundred Death Eaters."
Remus felt himself begin to tremble, the uncontrollable spasms nearly knocking the interrogation chair over. Parker smacked him again; after nearly three hours, Remus was pretty sure his entire jaw was black and blue, and he could taste the blood oozing from where he had bitten his tongue.
"Fine. Where do your loyalties lie, wolf?"
"I always have and always will humbly serve Albus Dumbledore and the Order of the Phoenix."
"He's resisting."
"I've already given him more than I should have."
"WHAT IS THE MEANING OF THIS?"
Even under the influence of the serum, Remus couldn't suppress a flinch as Dumbledore's angry voice ripped through the interrogation room. "Give him the antidote. You are releasing him to me immediately."
"Professor Dumbledore, I hardly think-"
"That is abundantly clear to me, Michael." He leaned over the chair; the moment he touched it, the chains fell away. A papery, gentle hand stroked Remus's face, and the bruises melted away. "I'm here now, my dear child. You're safe now. You are under my protection. My poor boy... my poor, sweet boy..."
"You came," Remus whispered. Maybe the Headmaster did not trust him, but at least he wasn't abandoning him.
"What is this? On his wrists? You used silver? That is cruel and unusual. Cornelius! I know you're listening, get in here now."
A few drops slid down his throat, and the dullness around his head fell away. Pain shot through every inch of his body, and finally understanding perfectly, he reached desperately for the Headmaster, feeling like a lost child. Dumbledore held him, gently rubbing his back, slow, calming circles.
All around him, the argument raged, loud and painfully striking his sensitive hearing. "Headmaster," he whispered, tugging desperately on the man's robes to pull his attention from the screaming. This was too much; the screaming ripped at his brain. "Please... it's all legal... I just want to go home... Please..."
"We're not finished with him yet," Harris snarled.
"I think you are," Dumbledore corrected sharply. He whirled on Fudge, his eyes snapping with fury. "Hear my words, Cornelius. This child is under my protection. If you ever lay hands on him again without receiving my permission, you will regret it."
"I beg your pardon, Albus, was that a threat?"
"If you like," the Headmaster said, his voice dangerously soft. "Release him to my care immediately."
Fudge growled, "It's your funeral."
Draping a soft, warm velvet robe over Remus's shoulders, Dumbledore guided the young man from the interrogation room. As they reached the Apparation point, Remus asked, "Why are you doing this? It was all legal... They're just going to be angrier..."
"Their whims to not affect me, Remus, nor should they you."
"You have rights, Headmaster. I haven't. I live and die according to their whims..." He felt as though he'd never be able to run again, as though every ounce of motivation and energy had been sucked out of him. As his body trembled, his heart broke. He forced thoughts of Sirius out of his head- Sirius, the energetic, charismatic, beautiful young man he had known for over ten years, the young man who was currently imprisoned in the hellhole the Headmaster was gently guiding him away from. It felt wrong. So damn wrong.
Dumbledore was silent. He wanted to deny it, to promise that he would protect the boy. The words refused to come. The *lies* refused to come.
"They're going to punish me for this," Remus whispered.
"My child-"
"It's who I am, Headmaster---" When Dumbledore opened his mouth to protest, Remus shook his head. "Not all of who I am, just a part, I know, but it's all they see. You and... and James and Peter saw the other parts, too, but they don't. It's all right. I understand. I just... It's who I am." He snorted disdainfully. "No. Excuse me. It's *what* I am."
"Remus-"
"I need to be alone, Headmaster. Thank you for what you did back there, and thank you for caring... But... I need to be alone now."
Dumbledore managed to hide his shock. None of his children had ever rebuffed him so blatantly before, and Remus was the last one he would have ever expected to do so... But it only made sense. He had always been a private child. This was hardly the time to work on social skills with the young werewolf.
"If you change your mind... If you need to talk to me... Or Minerva... Just owl the school, and we'll be there for you immediately."
"Thank you, sir."
Remus Apparated just outside the wards of Caelum, the Lupin family estate, still clutching Dumbledore's robe around him. He stumbled through the gate and up to the cottage. Barely inside, he heard the small, squeaky voice of the House Elf ask, "Master is needing Daffodil's help?"
"I... I don't think I can get up to my room..." Remus murmured.
"Master is going to the parlor," the Elf said authoritatively. She tugged on the robe and fairly dragged Remus into the living room. After he had curled on the sofa, the Elf said, "Daffodil is bringing Master's pajamas and blankets down... And Master is needing to eat."
"I'm not hungry-"
"Master must eat."
"Yes, ma'am," Remus sighed, chuckling a little despite his weariness. "But not a lot... Soup?"
"Potato soup, Master Remy, just like Master likes it when he's sick," she promised kindly. "Is Master wanting pajamas, or lounging clothes?"
"Something warm," the young werewolf sighed, nestling beneath the cloak.
Under her breath, Daffodil grumbled, "Master is going to give himself a fever..."
"Master can't stop shivering, Daffy; he's got one already," Remus said, teasing gently.
Sensing his mood, Daffodil said, "Master has to learn to respect his elders."
It was an old joke between the two of them, something they had played at since Remus's childhood. "I swear to Merlin, one of these days, I'm going to give you clothes."
That elicited a laugh from Daffodil. "Master does not even know how to work the stove; Master would eat frozen Muggle food for the rest of Master's life without his Daffodil."
"As fun as this is... I'm sort of lying here naked right now..."
"Of course, Master, Daffodil is bringing Master's clothes."
"Thank you," Remus called after the Elf as she popped away. The Elf reappeared seconds later and carefully helped Remus dress. With almost maternal care, she tucked him beneath warm, goose down quilts. "May I eat after my nap?"
Daffodil made a noise closely akin to a growl, but since his eyes were already fluttering, she said, "Master will eat as soon as he wakes up. And Daffodil *will know* when Master wakes up."
"Yes, ma'am," Remus murmured into his pillow as the world flickered into darkness.
A/N: Does it stop here? Um... To be honest, I don't know. It seems like a natural stopping point, but I might have an idea. I don't know if it's an idea or superfluous Lupin-worship. What do y'all think? Do I stop, or do I commence with the superfluous Lupin-worship?
BTW, those of you who are waiting for the Snape and Malfoys story, I'm afraid it'll be awhile longer yet. It could actually be a good thing. I can't write Snape because I'm happy, and it's hard to write Snape when one is happy. So... it's coming. I'll get depressed soon, promise (