Chapter 6
Remus Lupin lay in a growing pool of his own blood, gasping painfully for every breath. He had been living quite comfortably in the safe-house, waiting patiently for Sirius to show up. After a few days, he finally ventured out and found a copy of the Daily Prophet, with the front-page story about Sirius Black’s betrayal of the Potters and the murders of twelve muggles. The lycan’s face fell as he watched his best friend and co-conspirator’s face on the front of the paper, screaming invective as he was hauled away. That the headline was partially right stabbed at the werewolf; he knew that Sirius and he would ultimately pay for their betrayal of their best friends, but Albus had told them that the attack had been necessary. That they would go down in history as the greatest wizards alive for battling the worst Dark Lord to have ever come to Britain’s shores.
Though there was never any sighting of Voldemort any time Sirius and Remus incited some sort of conflict, they believed the old man when he said that everything they were doing was for the Greater Good. It was only as Lupin sat in that safe house, waiting for his best mate to join him as he thought back to their years in school that he began to wonder; the Greater Good for whom? Was it the Greater Good for wizardkind? Because Remus was quite sure that creatures like him weren’t going to be included in that lofty ideal. He’d overheard the headmaster once or twice when the old man went on a rant about how creatures were ruining the magical world. He’d always written it off as the stress of everything happening, which made Dumbledore rant petulantly about werewolves, vampires and goblins.
He looked at his opportunity to go to Hogwarts as proof that Albus Dumbledore’s efforts would benefit all magicals, and not just the human ones, but sometimes, in the dark of the night when he was trying to fall asleep in the Gryffindor dorm, his own traitorous thoughts would intrude and keep him awake. What if he didn’t really care about any of us mixed breed magicals? he would ponder worriedly. What if the only reason I’m here is to be an example to other creatures of what he promises, but never intends to deliver? What if, when he finally achieves what he wants for our world, he throws me and people like me away, our usefulness done?
When Albus approached Sirius, Remus and Peter with a plan to jump-start the wizard’s war, using the deaths of their best friends as the catalyst, the werewolf was very reluctant to go along with the plan. After the headmaster left, Sirius continued to push the old man’s agenda, until Lupin finally snapped. “Enough, Sirius!” he had barked angrily. “You’re allowing that old man to try and talk us into murdering our best friends. My pack! How can any of you expect me to go against my pack?!”
“They’re not truly your pack, Remy,” the animagus cajoled convincingly. “They belong to each other, and once they’re married and pregnant, they won’t give you a second’s thought. Peter and I are your real pack, and we could gain so much if we follow Dumbledore’s script. Besides, once it’s all said and done, we’ll be hailed as the heroes of the wizarding world. After that, the sky’s the limit!” To his utter shame, he’d allowed Black to talk him into staining his soul with the worst sin imaginable. Not only did he help to murder two people, but he’d helped kill his own family, leaving him no one upon whom he could rely anymore.
Now, here he was, lying on the floor of the cabin that Sirius had found for their safe house, once they’d done the deed, bleeding heavily from the slit in his gut, caused by another werewolf’s claws. Fenrir Greyback, the werewolf that had turned Remus when Lupin was six, had finally found him, on the orders of Tom Marvolo Riddle. “We can’t have anyone hanging about who could come after our Lord and his family,” the alpha had hissed menacingly as Lupin hung from the rafters of the home, strung up there by some of Greyback’s pack. “It didn’t take anything for that insane old man to talk you and your idiotic friends into killing the Potters and orphaning little Harry Potter. We know that if we leave you alive, it would only be a matter of time before someone else comes along and uses you as their murder weapon.”
“I suppose I deserve this,” he muttered, coughing up blood as air started to become an issue. “I only hope James and Lily forgive me…”
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“Darling, do you intend to make any more horcruxes?” Severus asked his husband. It was nearing Yule nineteen eighty-three and the house elves were frantically trying to get the manor on Crete ready for the influx of Dark families that had been invited to celebrate with them. The Weasleys and Prewetts were included in the celebration, since they were the first of the Light families to reach out a hand of friendship and conciliation to the alleged Dark Lord.
“I don’t think so, sweetheart,” Riddle replied thoughtfully. “I made the Peverell ring one when I killed my maternal grandfather in revenge for the way that he’d treated my mother, but I haven’t felt the need to make any more. As long as I keep the ring with me, everything’s fine. I was rather surprised at my father, however.”
“How so, love?” his spouse queried curiously.
“Well, when he kicked my mother out of Riddle manor because of the way that she’d tricked him into the marriage, I thought I would hate him forever. He knew she was pregnant, but I guess his anger got the better of him in that moment. When I went back to talk to him after I returned from my sojourns overseas, he was shocked to see me. He invited me in, and expressed his regret that he couldn’t introduce me to my grandparents, who had passed on just two years earlier. We had a long talk, and I apologized for the way that my mother had...raped him, for lack of a better term, for much of their marriage. I wanted to be angry at him; he was the reason that I was so badly abused growing up.
“As we talked, I realized that it was actually my mother’s choices that resulted in my growing up in the orphanage. Father was quite angry for a long time, but then he began to realize that it wasn’t my fault that my mother used underhanded means to gain herself a husband, and he regretted taking his anger out on me, even though it was vicariously. We patched things up, and I visited with him until he died at the age of seventy. He was able to give me a more solid foundation from which to rise, and I’d like to pass that on to our son.”
“I wish I could say the same for my father,” Severus murmured quietly. He was cuddling their son on the two-seater sofa upon which they were perched, and Hawthorne was drowsing happily, curled up in his mother’s arms. “You know how brutal he was; you’d spent quite a lot of time patching me up every time I came from Spinner’s End. I just wish he could have seen more to me than just my mother’s lies or my magic.”
“You still have your grandfather, Temnien,” Prince-Riddle’s husband told his love quietly. “He absolutely adores you, and brags endlessly about your successes to anyone who’ll listen. He’s coming here for Yule, and is looking forward to finally meeting his great grandson.” An owl flew in at that moment with a copy of the Daily Prophet in its talons. Tom took the paper, not wanting to disturb his drowsing son, and opened it, ruby eyes widening in shock at the headline.
“Listen to this, darling,” he whispered. “Body of Remus Lupin found in a remote cabin on the outskirts of the Sherwood Forest. The by-line is Kelly Carr. It says, ‘In the early hours of December 23, some hunters, out looking for a Christmas goose, discovered a moldering corpse in a cabin at the edge of the Sherwood Forest. They wouldn’t have entered the cabin, knowing how possessive hunters are of their property and not wishing to have their heads blown off, but the miasma of death and decay radiated from the little house, which caught the hunters’ attentions. They carefully approached the door and knocked loudly, hoping that what they smelled was the remnants of a deer or other large animal that had recently been dressed.
“When no one answered the door, one of the hunters kicked it in and all drew back as the stench boiled out at them like a freight train. Near the fireplace lay what was left of a human being. Wizards robes wrapped around most of the desiccated corpse, and there was a very large bloodstain that encircled the body, indicating that the poor victim had bled to death. The hunters immediately backed out of the cabin and contacted the authorities, who eventually came and picked up the body. None of the men wished to be interviewed, so after they gave the police their statement, they left the scene. Their names are being withheld to protect their privacy.
“Squibs in the coroner’s office saw the wand that was hidden within the robes and, after the morgue had closed for the holiday, they notified the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, who sent out two Aurors to retrieve the remains. Our own magical medical examiners have categorically stated that the body is that of Remus John Lupin, a known unregistered werewolf. Positive identification is based on the wand, which was sold to Lupin by Garrick Ollivander. Mr. Ollivander knows to whom he’s sold each and every wand, and knew whose wand it was based on that information.
“Remus John Lupin had no known surviving family; James and Lily Potter had died just two years ago in an attack allegedly perpetrated by Tom Marvolo Riddle’s associates. No proof to substantiate this allegation has ever been supplied; any witnesses to the crime have either died or are incarcerated in Azkaban. We will update you on this story as information comes in’.”
“Well, that’s surprising,” Severus remarked softly, staring down at his son’s sleeping face. “I feel very, very sorry for Lupin once he reunites with Potter and Lily.”
“That is something I would pay good money to see…” Tom added with a malicious grin.
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“Welcome, one and all, to our first Yule celebration, and if all goes well, we will make it a yearly tradition,” Tom told everyone as they entered the ballroom. In the corner stood a twenty-five foot Douglas fir tree, decorated with a wide variety of pine cones, berries of all different types and mistletoe leaves. The Malfoys had graciously permitted the Riddles to use their fire faeries, who sat on the boughs of the fir, glimmering gently and adding a festive glow to the tree. Underneath, on the skirt, sat presents piled as high as Hawthorne’s head, wrapped in silver, red, green, blue and white paper, with ribbons and flowers and bells decorating the wrapping.
“Drinks and nibblies are on the sideboard; help yourselves as I get the music going,” Severus invited as he stepped away from his family to get the wireless going. ‘God Rest Ye Merry Hippogriffs’ was the song currently playing, and more than one guest hummed along with the music as they circulated amongst each other, stopping to chat with this person or that person as they passed. Politics and the issues occurring outside the doors of the manor stayed out there; Tom didn’t want the holiday festivities to be disturbed by the real world for as long as he could manage it.
“Arthur,” he called out as soon as he saw the redheaded patriarch of the Weasley family. “If I could have a word, please.” Nodding, the older man accompanied Tom to a conversation pit, where Cornelius Fudge, Rufus Scrimgeour and Gawain Robards were waiting. He felt his face flush as he immediately thought about the funds that they were still receiving. Is this where Lord Riddle finally has me in irons for something Dumbledore did?
“Come, Weasley, have a seat,” Fudge invited with a constipated look on his face that could possibly be a smile, if you looked at it from the wrong end of a telescope. Sweating profusely, Arthur took the only empty chair available and shifted nervously as he waited for the axe to fall. “Lord Riddle has been talking to my associates,” the Minister waved at Scrimgeour and Robards, “and they’ve all come to a consensus. They feel that I might need someone to handle the public face of my office, whilst I deal with the money men and the business aspect of my job. They’ve convinced me that you should be that face, and have urged me to create a position specifically for those duties.
“So, Weasley, it’s with pride,” said through gritted teeth, “that I promote you to the office of Senior Undersecretary, with salary and health benefits package commensurate to your new position. Congratulations.” Announcement made, Fudge stood and strode to the floo, flicking powder into the flames and waiting impatiently for them to turn green so that he could leave the house. Severus slowly approached the Minister, and in the dead silence his voice could be heard loud and clear.
“We do not allow floo travel to anyone but family here,” he announced, a small, mean little smirk on his face. “If you wish to leave, you’ll have to go out to the docks and let the ferry take you back to the mainland.”