Lions Among Wolves

For five years of their lives, January 5th had been one of the most anticipated days of the year. Filled with equal parts nervous energy and excitement after two weeks at home, Remus and Mary would reunite with their friends on the Hogwarts Express and make the journey back to Scotland for their spring term. On January 5th, 1982, they find themselves preparing to return to Hogwarts once more, hoping to use the start-of-term hubbub to their advantage. As she packs her belongings into a pouch, Mary attempts to ignore the apprehension bubbling in her stomach and focus on the task at hand. After the monotonous few months after the war, to call this sudden change in tide unsettling is the understatement of the decade. In the limited time Mary and Remus granted themselves to process all they discovered at Dorcas’, the friends had gone through an agglomeration of emotions. The first, and most aggravatingly prominent, reaction has been despair. It was typical, really, that the world would throw another curse at them when things were starting to look up. In all of their misguided hope, they had started expecting rainbows, only to be caught in a hailstorm. Second to the pain had been the rage, which had started to take up residence in the flat as a third roommate. After everything her friends had been through, Mary can't even begin to comprehend how any of this was fair. How could all of the fighting, the political intrigue, all of the betrayal, and unadorned funerals amount to close to nothing? Before the discovery, she could’ve at least pretended to find comfort in the fact that her friends had lost their lives fighting for what they believed in, for what she herself believed in. Now, with the knowledge that the war hadn’t been won, not really, etched into the front of her mind, she isn't sure how she can ever move on. She can tell, from their silent dialogue of clenched fists and spilled milk and slammed doors, that Remus is in a similar position. The third dominant emotion, the one that felt the most productive, the most promising, is a thirst for vengeance. Her insides are crawling with it, making her feel dirty and temperamental. She feels like she’s been infected with knowledge from the moment she’d held Marlene’s parchment, and she knows the only way forward, the only way to absolve herself of its potency, is to destroy Voldermort herself.

It is this reignited vitriol that finds her grabbing on tightly to Remus’ wrist as he apparates them to Hogsmeade, armed with promises of a foolproof route into Hogwarts. They find themselves outside the Shrieking Shack, and Mary has to do a double take when her friend strides confidently towards the door. He turns back to look at her, making a show of checking his watch. It is an obvious attempt to lessen her nerves, but her eyes remain on the plank of wood that swings precariously off of its screws. She is familiar with the building, of course. No one could go a month at Hogwarts without listening to someone’s theory concerning the excruciating screams that rattled it each month. What had always concerned Mary more, though, was the disorderly way in which the shack’s windows are boarded up. Her personal theory when she was younger had been that it was the host to some sort of magical rendition of the bubonic plague, and so she had been sure to avoid it each Hogsmeade weekend. 

“Do we have to go in there?” She begins hesitantly, “it always kind of gave me the creeps.” 

She doesn't miss the way Remus’ expression flickers with hurt, though he's quick to replace it with a teasing smile, “Well, there’s always the secret passage through Honeydukes, but it’s the middle of the day and our aim is to be a bit more inconspicuous than that.” 

“Fine,” Mary sighs, making her way towards her friend, “but if you leave me alone in there for one second, Lupin, I swear to god I will hex you to oblivion.” 

The inside of the shack is as to be expected of a deserted house; coated with dust, almost completely devoid of furniture, and smelling vaguely of mould and rat faeces. What is unique to it, is a bare twin bed, slightly reminiscent of those in a muggle hospital. It stands alone in the centre of the room, and Mary is able to identify it as a relatively recent addition. It can't have been there much longer than she or Remus had been alive, which means the shack has been in use at some point during the last two decades. The whole scene is quite haunting, and Mary feels an icy chill crawl up her spine. She looks at Remus, but he is strangely at peace in the strange room. He catches her eye and she decides he’s the best person put her mind at ease. Amongst all the history books he’d devoured during his time at Hogwarts, he is sure to have come across something.

“How do you know this’ll get us into Hogwarts, anyway?” 

Her friend grimaces, long fingers anxiously picking at the silver scar on his chin, “Where d’you think I transformed every moon when we were at school?”

Oh. Mary trips over her next words, feeling uncharacteristically awkward. In the ten years that they’d known each other, the elephant, or well, werewolf, in the room had never been addressed. She’d never even known if the rumours were true until she’d moved in with Remus after Halloween and is sure to tell him this, brown eyes wide with concern as her mind pieces together that the ghost that haunted the shack wasn’t a ghost at all, but one of her closest friends.

He simply laughs. “Come on Mary, you and I both know you’re not stupid, you must have at least had an inkling.”

“Well, I couldn’t be sure, could I?” She argues back, “Not with how paranoid everyone was by the end, I thought Pete and everyone were grasping at straws, really.” 

Remus only nods, looking vaguely ill, before silently leading her through a passage. He only stops once they get to the end, kicking at the wall as he lets out a groan of frustration. 

“How could I be such an idiot?”

“What?” Mary grabs ahold of his arm again, “Did they seal it off after you left or something?”

“No. No, it’s not that. It’s just-” Remus takes his aggravation out on a particularly stubborn curl on the back of his head now, twisting back and forth, “The other side of this door is the bloody whomping willow. Without Wormtail to push the knot in the tree the branches’ll have us dead.” 

“What secret superpower did Pettigrew have that we can’t recreate?” Mary questions.

Remus just looks at her incredulously, “ Surely, you at least caught onto the animagi thing?”

Mary just shakes her head blankly as Remus begins a, greatly abbreviated, explanation of the Marauders’ time at Hogwarts. 

It is several minutes, countless rejected ideas, and an undecided number of lengths of the tunnel paced later before Mary comes to a victorious halt, “Wait a minute!”

Remus looks up at her, eager to hear her solution. He urges her to continue.

“Well, it just occurred to me, that the teachers surely didn’t know our mates had illegally turned into animals. And I’m almost certain it wasn’t McGonagall bringing you back and forth each month. It would’ve been Pomfrey, right? Unless she’s actually a part-time squirrel or someth-.” 

“Mary Macdonald, you absolute fucking genius” Remus interrupts with an enthusiastic kiss to her cheek, “you’ve got your eye stuff on you, right? The one in the long tube?”

Mary rolls her eyes but smiles at her friend. The two of them are giddy at their revelation, despite it being excruciatingly obvious in retrospect. 

“Remus John Lupin, you know full well what each of my makeup products are called. You’re not an oblivious teenage boy anymore.”

Checking his watch to ensure everyone is by now safely in the great hall for the first speech of the year, Remus wordlessly performs an alohomora on the door. He then lays on his belly, hoping he is close enough to the ground that the erratic branches will spare him. Carefully, he levitates Mary’s mascara tube towards the knot and adjusts its placement until the branches come to a standstill. Mary looks on in awe, honestly not expecting it to work. It's hard to get the right pressure when levitating items, but Remus has only gone and done it.  

*

Under a hastily cast disillusionment charm, the duo make their way into the castle, and straight to Ravenclaw tower. With an ache in his chest, Remus reflects on how much easier this mission would be with the invisibility cloak. And, more importantly, the friends that came along with it. James would be leading the way, his eyes glittering with the prospect of mischief. Even the smallest bending of the rules exhilarated him, and though Peter would’ve probably started the journey apprehensively, James’ jovial attitude was so robust it was infectious, and the latter would have quickly warmed up to it. Sirius would have…Sirus... No. Remus pushes the thought of his former lover out of his mind. There's no use remembering the good now, it’s not like any of it could’ve been authentic.  And even if it was, it would be a great disservice to James and Lily.

The corridors of Hogwarts have remained unchanged since they had last graced them, which forces Remus to swallow the uncomfortable truth that it really hasn't been that long since they were stowed away in Gryffindor Tower, planning pranks and tactfully avoiding packing up their things into trunks for the last time. In fact, many of the same students that he’d have passed in the corridors, the eager first and second years he’d noticed in the library, or had overheard gushing about James and Marlene’s quidditch skills, will be sitting down to eat in the Great Hall right now. It hurts to think about. 

After making their way up the spiral staircase, they pause at an angular door that lacks both a doorknob and a keyhole. They are, however, face-to-face with a bronze knocker in the shape of an eagle. Remus and Mary are both familiar with what will come next, and Mary finds herself holding her breath in anticipation as Remus knocks three times on the door. The eagle comes to life then, in a way that still feels rather charming to Mary, even after now being part of the magical world for just over a decade. 

“What is it that given one, you’ll have either two or none?” the eagle asks in a shrill voice.

Mary looks to Remus expectantly. Among her friends, he and Lily had always been known as the studious ones. James, Sirius and Dorcas may have been somewhat prodigies, but when it came to having to actually sit down and tackle a problem, she knows Remus is probably the most capable of them all. She can see he is deep in thought, his eyes glazed over slightly. Mary remembers this look from the very few times the boys would let them in on a prank. James or Sirius would take turns to shout out ideas - each one increasing in shock factor and absurdity - until one of them stuck and Remus had one of his crazy planning trances. She remembers how James and Peter would hold on to each other in excitement, and Sirius would grin so wide, hovering as close to Remus as he could, but never touching, less he’d disrupt the magic. It was clear, even in the early years - to Mary at least - that Sirius loved Remus. Even now, with all the power of hindsight she wields, she can't quite pinpoint how it all went so wrong. 

She hadn’t realised she’d been stuck in a daydream until she became very aware of Remus’ hands waving, rather aggressively might she add, in her face. She blinked, lightly shaking herself back to life and did a double take when she saw that the door had been successfully opened. 

She looks back at Remus. “You did it? Oh, what am I asking for? Of course you did. Let’s get a move on then.” And with that, they follow the corridor down into a darkened foyer that Marlene and Dorcas had marked with a large, red “X.” 

Checking Marlene’s parchment once more to be sure, Remus smiles, and, in a terrible mockery of a West Country accent announces, “Well, X marks the spot and all that.” 

Mary, a Bristolian through and through, only glares before snatching the parchment from him and rolling her eyes fondly at his exaggerated apologies. Secretly, she gets a bit excited when Remus triea to joke with her, it makes her feel like they were back in the mid-70s, and that surreal liminality between then and now feels like a warm embrace. Remus isn't to know that, though - it’ll only enable him. 

Remus suddenly tenses, and Mary can tell he could sense something. She isn't sure just what it could be, but if this war has taught her anything, it's that Remus Lupin’s nose and ears were most definitely to be trusted. In an instant, he shoves her behind him and in her head, Mary curses his protectiveness. If there was one more thing this war has taught her, it's this; Remus Lupin needs to start leaving the martyrdom to someone else. She will not lose anyone else to heroism or a misguided sense of obligation.

“I don’t think you’re supposed to be here.” A cool voice drifts into Mary’s range of hearing, bouncing off each of the marble walls. It's neither kind nor welcoming, but there is a silvery cadence to it that resembls the sound produced when one rubs a finger around the edge of a glass to produce a melody. It is haunting and melancholy in a way that was terribly endearing. 

The voice, it turns out, belongs to the Grey Lady. 

“It’s you, isn’t it? You’re Helena Ravenclaw.” Mary starts, though her voice comes out less certain than she feels.

Staring into the ghost’s face - and what a beautiful face it was, all soft features and sharp eyes - she feels incredibly small and powerless. Unexpectedly, instead of fear, this impression is partnered with a fizzy sort of excitement she hasn't really felt since school. Definitely not since James and Lily’s wedding, that was for certain. At the time, Mary had always just assumed that the wedding had been so monumental for her because it marked the end of childhood; James and Lily were the hearts of the group, and their choice to settle down had been a reminder that the rest of them would soon do the same. But maybe Mary’s visceral reaction to it had been indicative of something deeper, something she’d hardly realised she’d been repressing. If the sudden return of this popping candy sensation in her stomach is anything to go by, it very well might be.

Eyes darting towards the ground in shame and disbelief, it occurs to her that she might, potentially, like the Grey Lady to escort her to a broom closet. 

“Who’s asking?” the Grey Lady snaps, and Mary - who seems to plummet into an identity crisis at the most inopportune time - loses her nerve. 

Remus glances at her, an unreadable expression on his face, before taking over, “Look, we’re-or we were friends of Marlene Mckinnon. We found this parchment of hers, and she seemed to believe you could help us with something very important.”

“Were?” The ghost returns to her initial subdued manner. “Well, that is a great shame. Marlene was always kind to me. However, I know what you seek, my mother’s diadem, and I shan’t disclose that information ever again.” With that, she starts to float away. 

Remus steps forwards towards her. “Would it change anything if I told you we want to destroy it?”

She pauses, seemingly in deliberation, as Remus and Mary share a silent glance. He squeezes his friend’s hand twice, and he can feel his shoulders loosen when she reciprocates. After a second, Helena turns sharply and Remus takes it as a sign to keep speaking, “That is what you want, isn’t it?”

“Another boy sought to destroy it once; a strange boy with a strange name, but he lied.” She is becoming angrier now, and Remus wills himself not to flinch as she visibly becomes more upset. “He defiled it, with dark magic.” 

“I know who you’re talking about, and he’s lied to many people. Look, I may have a strange name myself, but I can promise you, I’m no fucking liar. I know what it’s like to be betrayed, to have your trust broken. We’re more similar than you think, you and I”

Remus gets closer once again, unconsciously dragging Mary along with him in his refusal to let go of her hand. “Look, we can destroy it - once and for all. But only if you tell us where we can find it.” He's practically pleading with her now, but he can feel her reluctance dissolving. 

“You remind me of him a bit, I can smell the darkness on you,” Helena replies, and Remus tries not to let the comment faze him, he is a dark creature after all. The Ghost shifts her gaze until she is looking Mary dead in the eyes, “You, however, are his antithesis. You radiate regality and strength. The diadem is here, in the castle, in the place where everything is hidden. If you have to ask, you’ll never know. If you know, you need only ask.” 

And with that, she vanishes. 

*

The mission appears to go smoothly from there. It doesn't take Remus and Mary long to figure out this second riddle. Both of them had made use of the room of requirement during their seven years at Hogwarts; their twin volatile natures led them to repeatedly find refuge somewhere they could cool off in solitude. It had become a place of refuge for them as younger teens when their statuses as muggle-born and werewolf respectively burdened them with an eternal need to remain effortlessly unbothered around others. Once they arrive at the room, it's just a matter of locating the diadem, which proves rather easy with Remus’ aptitude for smelling dark magic so they manage to make it back out of the room with 30 minutes to spare before the end of the night’s festivities in the Great Hall. 

Just as they reach the last corridor, however, Remus hears the faint patter of footsteps, and, without thinking ushers Mary into the first broom cupboard he sees. Only, it isn't a broom cupboard after all. The walls are lined with shelves, each laden with exciting treats, and some of Zonko’s very finest; extendable ears, stink bombs, sneakoscopes. Amongst the piles of miscellaneous magical objects, they spot a few muggle items as well; lighters, magazines, and the odd pack of cigarettes. Mary swears she can see her old zippo hidden between an odd-looking plant and a pack of exploding snap cards. Remus can't believe his eyes. 

“I think we might have just stepped right into Filch’s confiscation cupboard,” Remus announces, not quite believing it himself. If only he’d found this when he was at school, he can just think of the sheer pranking potential. It is an absolute goldmine, the type of thing James and Sirius would’ve gone mad for. 

“But, how is that possible?” Mary asks, though the evidence in front of her definitely suggests that it is, “I mean, I would’ve thought that it wouldn’t be so easy to just stumble into a room of alleged contraband.” 

Remus just shrugs, scanning the room as though in desperate search of something in particular, “I would assume the wards are just set to keep out any current Hogwarts students, and seeing as we’re not anymore…”

He trails off, eyes wide and focused on something on the shelf behind Mary. She narrows her eyes, slowly turning around until she locates the object he is so fixated on. It's a piece of parchment, which she tentatively reaches out and takes, much to Remus’ growing excitement. 

“What’s this then?” she asks.

Remus only throws her a mischievous grin. “Why don’t you see for yourself?”

Mary rolls her eyes, before opening it up. On realising it to be blank, she points her wand at it to cast a revelio charm. Remus watches gleefully as Mary’s expression changes from one of curiosity, to shock, and eventually one of annoyance. 

“Go on then,” Remus urged, “What’s it saying?”

Mary begins to read off the parchment. “Messr Moony implores that Miss Macdonald keep her nose out of where it doesn’t belong, but that he loves her dearly and hopes this will not put a strain on their already precarious relationship. Messr Padfoot insists that Miss Macdonald must back off from his Moony immediately, or face imminent punishment. Messr Wormtail politely requests that he may refrain from insulting Miss Macdonald, as he doesn’t desire to face the consequences. Messr Prongs agrees with the honourable Messr Wormtail that it is wrong to insult such a fine lady, and therefore also refrains from doing so also.”

She looks back up at Remus, “Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot and Prongs? You guys made a bit of parchment that insults people?”

“No, no wait. Here’s the kicker.” He ambles over to her and points his own wand at the page, “I solemnly swear that I am up to no good.” 

At once, the previous words disappear, to be replaced with an elaborately written title: Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot and Prongs are proud to present ‘The Marauders Map’. As he unfolds it further, Mary lets out a small gasp as it reveals a map covering the entirety of Hogwarts, including some of her own favourite hiding spaces that she was almost certain no one else was aware of. The most shocking part of it all, though, is the names that are scattered across it, moving in various directions, at various speeds. The large majority of the names, including those of most of the professors, are divided around the Great Hall, just as they would be right at that moment. In disbelief, her eyes dart to part of the castle she and Remus are in, and sure enough, their names are printed, right there, though the room is labelled "cupboard." She paces back and forth, eyes almost popping out of her head as her name moves back and forth on the map. She ignores Remus’ light chuckles and sits down on the floor, leaning against the wall.  

“So it’s a stalker map?” Mary asks incredulously, “I honestly can’t tell how that’s any better. In fact, I think it might be a bit worse.”

“It’s not for stalking per se, just for keeping tabs on people.” 

“That’s stalking Remus, it’s creepy! God is this how Potter always knew where to find Lils for all those big gestures of his?”

Remus’ cheeks turn a little pink, and he averts his eyes, “Well, alright, it could be used for less than savoury purposes. But it did a lot of good too, helped us find one another when we were being too stubborn to reach out for help, all that kind of stuff. And hey, how do you think we managed to pull off all those pranks?” 

He takes the map back from Mary and carefully smooths out any creases before folding it back up, and murmuring a quick “mischief managed.” His smile fades slightly, becoming more nostalgic than excited.

He sighs. “I’m glad we found this, you know. It was always meant to be passed down to the first one of our kids but then Filch managed to nab it on the last week of school. James was devastated after Harry was born, he wanted to christen him with it.”

It is the first time Remus has spoken Harry’s name out loud since Halloween, and it feels like a punch in the gut. Mary gives him a small smile and grabs his hand, drawing small circles on it with her index finger.

“We could go and see him, you know.” Mary attempts, “After we sort everything out, of course.”

Remus shakes his head. “It’s too late now. I should’ve fought for him at the beginning but I was too busy being stuck in my head. Now Dumbledores shipped him off to fuck-knows where, and we’re embarking on a suicide mission.” 

Mary purposefully ignores his last words, though she knows there's some truth to them, “I’ll go to Dumbledore myself and slap him silly until he discloses his location. It couldn’t be too far, after all.” 

Remus lets out a bitter laugh. “It’s probably for the best, anyway. You heard what Helena said, I reek of dark magic.”

“Don’t think like that Remus,” Mary takes a break from her circle-drawing to lightly slap him on the hand, “It’s prejudiced, and you know you’re good deep down. We both do.” 

Remus shrugs and opts for a change in topic. “Let’s get home before Filch comes in here to drop off the night’s cargo.”

*

“Macdonald,” Remus begins from his spot next to her, as she flips over her pillow to the cool side, “Want to share what all that was about earlier?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” she bristles, though she thinks she might know what he's alluding to. The most mortifying of Remus’ lycanthropic abilities, in Mary’s opinion, is his ability to hear someone’s heart rate. Frankly, she thinks it's a bit invasive, though it blatantly did him no good in school, at least where Sirius was involved. 

“Well, I think” Remus replies, a teasing smile pulling at the corners of his mouth, “that you wanted to shag the Grey Lady.” 

“Fuck off,” Mary says, turning her body to face away from him.

“You were practically drooling.”

There's a short pause as Mary fidgets, adjusting her pillow once more. She pointedly tugs at the duvet so that she can steal some more of Remus’ half. 

“It’s okay, you know. Well, maybe not the ghost bit, that might be a bit necrophilic actually. But the woman bit’s definitely alright. And I mean, even if it wasn’t who would I be to judge you?”

“I know”

“Well, good then.”

“Perfect.”

“Wonderful.”

“Go to sleep, Remus”

“Goodnight, love. I hope you have sweet, sweet dreams about your beautiful spectral lover.” 

Right , Mary thinks. Remus had most definitely lost all duvet privileges. She tugs. Hard. 

“I hope you get devoured by bed bugs,” she shoots back, to little satisfaction, as Remus is already asleep.