Leader of the Pack
The day before second term resumes, I'm again invited to Dumbledore's office.
“Miss Devons,” Dumbledore greets genially as I step in and he waves me into a seat next to the visitor. Or Professor.
I nod a hello to him and ignore his nervous stiffening when I let my wolf eyes sheen before I turn toward Dumbledore and let them fade. “Allow me to introduce Remus Lupin, our new Defense Against the Dark Arts instructor; he’ll be filling in for the remainder of the school year.”
“Nice to meet you,” we both say in unison, then I huff a grin while his tired smile breezes by as Dumbledore continues.
“Unorthodox though it is, Miss Devons, I was hoping you could possibly spare a bit of time to share your... unique experiences with Mr. Lupin? Or perhaps those of your last reality?”
Now Lupin looks somewhat uncomfortable and I can only guess he’s only just learned of my position and official (if still inaccurate) title of Fatemaker. His lips part to (likely) protest, but I’m already nodding.
“I’d be happy to,” I cut him off, smiling agreeably. “Different realities mean different points of view, and I’ve actually known a few people who’ve undergone genetic assistance to acquire the shift they weren’t born with. They’d acclimate to a heavy change in a way similar to you, just... minus the internal struggle.”
Lupin blinks at me, baffled and incredulous, then asks. “People get turned on purpose?!”
“In that reality, yes? But it's... a bit different there. Ninety nine out of a hundred people are automatically born with shifter genetics. Being born purely human was considered an anomaly.”
Lupin just gapes at me, like I’ve gone a bit cracked, but eventually snaps his mouth shut. “Oh.”
“We can make it an ongoing conversation, maybe? To let both your halves get used to the concept, which I can only imagine is odd, from your perspective. But I think a bit of talk therapy might be just what's needed to settle both halves of you to help to find some common ground.”
“Both halves?” He repeats, looking baffled.
Now I sigh a little unhappily because clearly, there's never been anyone to explain the most basic of basics to him. “Your human side, and your wolf side.”
Lupin’s eyebrows drop now, maybe a bit unsettled. “You mean the werewolf side.”
“Collectively, as human and wolf together, you are the werewolf, no matter what phase the moon is in. But the werewolf is as drastically different from a normal, natural wolf as it is drastically different from a normal, natural human. The werewolf is a meeting point between both; it’s meant to be neutral ground. That yours isn’t... it sort of aches to think you’ve been fighting each other for all this time when you didn’t have to, especially when it's left your control this shaky.” And it does ache to think of it. It’s no wonder he looks ill. He’s never ceased fighting. Neither of them has.
For now, it seems Lupin’s had his fill of upfront truths from the fatemaker in the child's body and soon excuses himself, promising that we’ll talk and I nod agreeably as he goes.
“It could’ve been my imagination,” Dumbledore murmurs as he gazes after the man, “but I think I may have seen a spark of hope in his eyes.”
“How many years?” I choke out softly. “They’re both so, so tired.”
And here now I finally see what I'm sure is Dumbledore’s most human, sympathetic, benevolent expression. "Far too many, but that’s his story to tell, when he's ready.”
That night, I dream of running with my pack again, but where I used to feel warm fur and reassurance at my side, now I feel empty air and nothing but a lonely, mournful song to drive me onward.
***
As Dumbledore had predicted, the new term begins well, like the heaviness of Penumbra’s death has been washed away. Snape is a bit surlier than usual with Lupin here, but he doesn’t avoid him, nor even note his presence when he doesn't have to, which is maybe the best that can be asked for if they've got serious history. I've got no idea what that shared history is, and the castle isn't offering to tell the story yet, so I let it lie.
Just under two weeks before the full moon, I all but corner Lupin in his classroom to begin the conversation we need to have and I make the offer I think will best suit his current mindset; ideally, proving his wolf is exactly that and not some half-shifted abomination hell-bent on murder and/or biting everyone in sight.
“You want to what?” Lupin asks, stepping back and away like he’s worried I’ll force it on him. Or maybe that I won't force it on him.
“Essentially, to stretch the binding between you and your wolf just a bit; to literally separate you both enough to get a deeper, honest look at each other.”
“But not remove it entirely?” He asks, slumping with disappointment.
“No,” I murmur gently. “If it were the first year, maybe. Your body acclimated to the wolf’s presence long, long ago. Without it, you’ll die.”
Lupin sighs and sits heavily against the edge of his desk while I remain leaning against a stone pillar, my hands resting in my robe pockets where I meditatively fiddle with the bit of marble I'd pocketed from my old desk in the basement lab. It's oddly soothing.
“You’re so used to seeing it as an invader, an inner enemy of a sort, it’s maybe tough to think of it in any other way—“
“It is, though,” he insists, eyes darting to mine and away. “Invading.”
“Not to the wolf, not anymore. Now all it’s doing, from its own point of view, is surviving in a hostile environment.”
“That makes no sense,” Lupin argues, head shaking. “My inner environment is hostile because it’s been invaded. Forcibly. Hostilely," he reiterates.
“And, for wolf or man, that’s a painfully stressful place to remain for any length of time; don’t ever think it doesn’t want peace and rest, because I can feel it from across the room. It’s just as exhausted by the fight as you are.”
Lupin locks his jaw in frustration and I wonder if some portion of his mind has grown equally needy of that inner fight. It’s maybe more familiar to Lupin now than any sense of peace ever has been, maybe because that ongoing fight is the one thing they incontrovertibly have in common.
“Wolves in the wild are pack animals,” I say softly. “For all that they’re labeled beasts, they’re conscientious, patient, and driven. They value their sense of pack survival almost more than individual survival. When one of the pack hurts, they all feel that suffering. When one grows ill or too hurt to hunt, the others will bring it food and often dig little dirt hollows to regurgitate water into to help the one in need. They feel kinship. They feel love. They enjoy a good rabbit chase as much as a good singalong to beckon new members in and welcome them to the family. And regardless of age, they frequently play like puppies just for the joy of it.”
I let him digest that for a moment before adding: “Those are the things it wants for you as much as for itself. Now it’s your turn to decide if you want those for the both of you too, or if you'd rather keep battling until it eventually kills you both.”
***
Our next meeting three days later is calmer while we discuss how this proposed meeting will go and what he can expect of both his wolf and of me. "For now, consider me a neutral translator. Most of what he has to say will be spoken through body language, so you'll need to adjust your own to counter it. He understands human words because he's learned through you, but you'll still have the option to ignore what he says in return; for the first meeting, I suggest keeping it simple: just see each other in the flesh, let him look and evaluate you and he'll offer the same."
And that's exactly how it goes.
Lupin’s wolf looks like an old soldier, tired from the fight but still strong despite it. There’s a chip off his right ear and a scarred hank of flesh where fur no longer grows between it’s shoulder blades and is missing two toes on it’s back left foot. It looks feral, mostly, and hasn’t ceased snarling at Lupin since it realized there was an obvious, literal gap between them, though the spelled infinity symbol on the floor won’t let either go anywhere without the other.
Lupin has wisely taken my advice and merely sits in his end of the symbol, as calmly as he can, legs crossed that would put him at a major disadvantage were there a battle starting anytime soon; it's not a submissive pose, but not dominant either. Lupin’s arms are relaxed where they rest on his knees with hands open and empty of weapon or wand, like a show of faith. He’s also taken my advice on neutral posture on neither hiding or exposing his neck, thankfully, because right now, his wolf would be happy to see him dead or submissive and broken, even if it means it's own death. The wolf is easily as bitter over his lot in life as Lupin has been.
For nearly an hour, the wolf doesn't give an inch and I worry we’ll have to try again tomorrow and the day after and the day after that until something changes and settles.
Finally, the wolf’s lip loses most of its teeth-baring curl, the snarling dying down to an occasional low growl, but no worse after the wolf slowly, hesitantly sits. So far, it’s the best progress I could've hoped for.
I leave them to their continued observation of the other for another half hour before I, too, sit, just far enough that would either spring to action, I’d be on my feet and controlling the situation before they ever finished a starting motion. (I’m hopeful, but not stupid, even if they are stuck in a spell symbol because I'm not dumb enough to think the spell infallible.) But I’m close enough to be heard easily and so I speak low and soft and unhurried. I remind them that this is how they can begin to speak to the other, to complain, to laugh at the other’s occasional absurdity. They can mourn together in gesture and song, they can rest and know the other is there to watch over them when it’s needed. At the two hour mark, I finally let them wrap it up for the day.
“Tomorrow, we speak again. For tonight, let each other rest; you’ve both earned it.”
By the next morning, Lupin’s got a bit of color in his cheeks while he joins the staff table in the Great Hall and while his eyes sheen over once as I watch from the Hufflepuff table, there’s no menace to it. It seems the wolf is just curious about Lupin’s new territory and those in it. But I wonder how long it'll be before I have to prove to them both that it's my territory and they're only here by the grace of my good will. Something tells me that'll be an awkward conversation.
***
It's definitely going to be an awkward conversation and because I know just how awkward, I make sure we have a third party present in case of a possible werewolf emergency. Dumbledore, currently in a (mostly) non-discordant mood, looks pleased that I trust him enough to help, so I don't tell him outright that it's because barring myself, Lupin's also here by the grace of Dumbledore's good will too.
"Territory?" Lupin asks, looking baffled. "It's a school."
"Technically...." I say, cringe-wincing a little, "it's both. For information that will rarely be spoken of outside private conversations, the castle considers me it's mistress -- it's inheritor; it's owner."
Lupin scowls at me. "It's a school," he says again.
"It is a sizable chunk of intelligent, sentient magic, and for as amazing as it is and always will be, it's first and foremost: mine." Now even Dumbledore is giving me a look, but I ignore it because Dumbledore ought to have heard this by now and I've been avoiding the subject entirely.
"And as 'mine'," I continue, "I absolutely, without a doubt, want it to remain a school; to remain as the school that has been a second home and sanctuary to thousands of people, creatures, even a few living myths over the years. It's been enriching lives for generations and if I have my way, that will still be true long after I'm dead and gone."
Both professors relax, hearing that.
"Currently, though, it's also my territory, and one that I'm happy to share, within limits." I hold up my hand to stall they're dual protests, and talk a little faster. "I know you and your wolf would never deliberately do anything to harm anyone here, let alone a child, but that doesn't mean something unexpected or essentially malevolent won't happen that strips you of your control especially with an unknown disaster looming on the horizon-- hence this very awkward conversation. While you're here, you and your wolf have to consider me leader of the pack."
Lupin raises an eyebrow. "Alright?"
I sigh. More awkward by the second and it's not even over yet. So I just blurt it out.
"You have to submit." I cringe, then add. "To me."
Lupin's eyes flash dull amber and hold steady, head dropping defensively, but makes no other gesture of objection.
"A pack leader holds the territory,” I begin softly. “Pack leader guides," I murmur, this time letting my wolf rumble into my voice a little. "Pack leader defends," I add, stepping forward and lifting my chin, confident in my own power then let my eyes bleed the bright glowing amber of full wolf and Lupin staggers in place under the weight of my wolf's authority, wolf eyes flickering briefly as he tries to hold his ground and keep his gaze steady on mine while I approach. "Pack leader protects," I growl gently, the tips of my claws slipping to the surface and now Lupin's gasping, trembling, whining faintly deep in his chest and not from pain or fear but the raw, primitive connection few humans will ever feel let alone understand.
When I reach him, he looks almost broken, but little by little, relaxes, then goes stiff again when I reach up to lay my hand on his throat, claw tips pressing at his pulse, but gently, a mere reminder that while I have the power to harm and dominate, it's not something I'd do to my pack without serious cause. "Pack leader protects all the pack, even if it's from themselves," I rumble, my sharper teeth flashing and my eyes flaring a shade brighter with power. "Submit," I whisper-request-command and Lupin just does, strings cut and legs buckling beneath him.
I catch him easily and lower him to his knees and let his wolf rumble contentedly back, his skin shimmer-shifting a little like the wolf needs fur to make it official. When it finds it can't shift yet, it bares Lupin's neck for him.
"Now," I sigh, letting him lean into me while I grip him around the back of his neck, firm and reassuring, while my own features slide back to human, "it's your pack territory too. And now that it is, all the pack allies and pups here are also yours to protect. And we always protect our own."
Lupin shivers once, head to toe, when I run a hand soothingly down his back, but it's simply a loss of stress that's soon replaced by contented unity and security. "Oh," he croaks on a sigh, nodding into my shoulder. "Alright."
Dumbledore is wearing an odd expression when I finally look back his way and see that he's got his wand out and I wonder when that'd happened. But he's nodding his quiet approval as he slips it back up his sleeve, whatever tension had built draining away and gone and strangely, seems to take the remains of that discordant energy with it. I don't know why, but his smile seems a touch bittersweet when we all break away to our own respective duties a bit later.
Outside of mealtimes, I don't see Dumbledore for a few days after that, but I think it's because we both found the ceremony a little more intimate and unexpectedly intense than it maybe should've been. If anyone thinks it odd that Lupin and I manage to brush shoulders every day or two to share the comforting scent of 'pack', it remains unspoken.
Snape notices, though.
I know I shouldn't be surprised when he, too, avoids me for a weekend when we'd usually find time to magically geek out over a new potion idea or two while we work on the nearly-completed multi-lingual potion. It's weird that I can miss anyone after a mere few days of lost conversation and companionship, but it thankfully doesn't last. Come the next week, it's business as usual and we don't speak of that either.
***
A brand new batch of Ministry officials are coming to visit on the last day of January and I have a feeling they’ll be making more demands.
“What sort of demands?” Snape asks, halfway through crushing armored silverfish to add to his newest 'werewolf calming' potion while I watch on.
“That... is a good question. Because I don't know. But fate’s poking me in the back over and over, like it’s reminding me to be careful and that’s mostly worrying because... it’s not for another three days. So,” I huff, waving a hand to add the unspoken 'I'm griping about my ignorance'.
Snape frowns, adds crushed kappa claws and spicy clover to the cauldron before stirring slowly and carefully while the potion begins weaving itself together, all geometrics and layered binding to my eyes.
“So it’s warning you early,” he observes.
“Really early,” I correct. “Possibly an unplanned visit.”
“Have you spoken to the Headmaster?”
I open my mouth to answer but the classroom door opens before I do, Lupin freezing halfway in, eyes ticking between Snape and I with surprise. Snape scowls at the interruption while I wave Lupin forward and a flick of my finger closes the door behind him just loud enough to make him jump, which makes Snape smirk.
“Cutting it a bit close, aren’t you?” Snape finally demands, still stirring.
“If it’s not done brewing,” Lupin says patiently as he crosses the room to join us, “then I’d say... no." I smile off to the side, but soon return to observing the cauldron's magic at work, because it's so, so close to perfect. "Miss Devons, I hadn’t expected you to be down here?”
I quirk a grin half-over my shoulder, then shrug. “My classmates are currently all fawning over the new quidditch substitute players,” I sigh. "Which ought to be renamed substitute crash test dummies. I'm amazed Madam Pomfrey hasn't moved her office there just to save time on the walk. Beyond that, the spice and grit of centuries of collective potions brewed have settled into the walls here. It’s amazingly relaxing,” I confess, squinting at the way the topmost layer of circular chain runs a fraction higher than the others. “Have you ever tried this potion with a silver-banded cauldron?” I ask Snape, head tilting as I watch the final layer merely settle atop the others, unbound. “I think it’d maybe make a smoother connection.”
“How much smoother?” He asks, scowling lightly.
“Pretty close to seamless, I think,” I murmur, then turn and with barely a thought, flick three books from the overhead shelves down with a finger wave and begin flipping through, because banded silver on pewter changes the resonance—
I jolt in place with a startled 'meep' when a small silvery fox unexpectedly bursts through the book I'm holding before halting with it's ghostly nose an inch from my own. “Surprise inspection,” Moody’s voice grumbles out of the fox’s mouth. “Be ready.” Then it disappears in a wisp of silver smoke.
I flick wide eyes to Snape, then to Lupin, who’s looking a little panicked. “Was that Moody? A Ministry inspection of the school?” His eyes flash briefly with nervous fear when the wolf surfaces and I flash my eyes back- to no avail because he’s too keyed up already. I narrow my eyes and stand, gripping both sides of his face and tilt it down and to the side, forcibly bearing his throat, but keep my eyes on his.
“Both of you, settle. Moonrise isn’t until after eleven p.m., so this is fine. This is handled,” I say smoothly, but authoritatively, and Lupin melt-slumps a little under my serious tone, but nods once before I release him and I can feel Snape’s scowling at us both. “You’ll drink your potion and find somewhere quiet and calming to eavesdrop through the castle walls, easy as that.”
Lupin sucks in a slow breath, releases it, then nods again. His eyes are pure human when he opens them again, but offers a lopsided, awkward smirk when he shivers the remaining nerves off. “It’s weird that you can do that when you’re so.... short.”
I snort and roll my eyes, letting them fade to human again. “I’m also technically older, and have more years of experience under my belt than years that this entire continent has been declared a continent,” I remind him, gathering up my bag, then snatch up the book I’d been flipping through, half-smiling at Snape as I skip backward toward the door. “I’m borrowing this? Yes? Okay, heading for Dumbledore’s, bye!” I slip out the door, fake-smiling as I go and leaving a baffled Lupin and an eye-rolling, reluctantly amused Snape behind.