Chapter Eight
“Are you alright there, little one?”
The bedroom door had been kept ajar, and Remus had caught the sound of Teddy’s sniffling all the way from the floor above—from he and Sirius’ bedroom.
After they had all emerged from the Pensieve, Sirius had sagged into Remus’ chest, burying his face, “I loved him,” Sirius had said, “And I didn’t tell him.”
“He knew,” Remus had whispered, holding Sirius to him, “He knew as soon as the locket had successfully left that wretched cave. It could only be transported beyond those enchantments by two people who loved one another.”
That was all that had been said.
The rest could be discussed in the morning—who it might have been that Regulus had hoped would destroy the locket, why it had failed…but for now…they needed to breathe. To digest and reconcile with the scene in the forest, with what had been said in front of the towering yew…
Harry, Ron, and Hermione went quietly up to their shared bedroom. Remus had caught murmurings from their bedroom, and then the soft sound of Ron’s snores and Harry and Hermione’s deep breathing.
Sirius fell into a heavy sleep within minutes of laying in their bed, aided by the Dreamless Sleep potion that Remus had poured for him.
Remus had lain awake—his heart felt scraped raw, his blood cold. And then he had heard the sniffling.
Teddy looked up, rubbing his eyes. He sat up against his pillows, stuffed wolf in his lap, his turquoise curls matted slightly from his attempts at sleep. He reached his arms out toward Remus in the doorway, his lips quivering, and a second later his hair was grey and brown, his cherub face slashed with Remus’ scars.
Remus came and sat on the side of the bed, lifting a hand to sweep some of the hair (Remus' hair) out of Teddy’s face, “Bad dreams?”
Teddy nodded, sniffing.
Remus clucked his tongue gently, “Poor thing. How about a story, then?”
Teddy nodded again. Remus pulled out a book from one of the shelves of the bedside table and then sat up against the small bed’s headboard as Teddy snuggled into his side, clinging to his jumper.
“In a hole in the ground, there lived a Hobbit…”
Remus read the long first chapter, glancing every time he turned the page to see if Teddy had nodded off to sleep. He didn’t. The child's brown eyes (Remus’ eyes) stared at the incomprehensible words on the page, sniffling still every now and then, and at last, Remus came to his favorite portion of the chapter—
“Far over the misty mountains cold,
To dark deep caves and caverns old…”
“No more story, Dad,” Teddy said suddenly.
Remus’ heart thrilled at the word, ‘Dad’. A word that he never thought he’d ever hear in reference to himself.
“Is the story scaring you?”
Teddy pressed his cheek against Remus’ elbow, “When is moon?” He said quietly.
Remus closed the book and rested it in his lap, “Ten days away,” he said, holding up his hands, showing the number ten with his fingers.
Teddy whispered, “Will you go again before moon?”
Remus peered down closer at the child, “Yes.”
“Why I no go with you?”
Remus smiled—this was the first time he had heard the toddler say ‘I’. Teddy had always referred to himself in the third person, and Remus found this shift to be a good sign.
“You must stay here where you are safe. But I promise, Teddy, soon you will come with me everywhere. Except for moon nights.”
“I’m not scared of wolf,” Teddy said fiercely.
Remus chuckled softly, “I know.”
“Wolf likes Padfoot. Wolf doesn’t like me?”
Remus smiled warmly, lifting a finger to lightly touch Teddy’s cheek, “The wolf loves you.”
“I love you,” Teddy said, looking up with his now-brown eyes (Remus’ eyes) so that their identical gazes locked.
“I love you too,” Remus said. And he realized then that he had never said it aloud. So he continued, “I love you, Teddy, to the moon and to the stars...and beyond.”
As he said those words, Remus let the leash release just slightly on his magic—and that clear and calling well of the most powerful of magic within him, that which had saved Sirius in the Department of Mysteries and that had allowed Regulus to thwart Voldemort’s enchantments, flowed into the soft night air of the bedroom.
Teddy’s eyes widened, “Magic,” he breathed.
Remus smiled, “Yes. You have it too,” he rested his finger lightly on Teddy’s chest, on his pale blue night shirt, “In here.”
Teddy smiled widely, and then he pressed his head back into Remus’ elbow, “Sleep with you?” he asked.
“Alright. Come on, little one, grab hold.”
Teddy scrambled into Remus’ lap and then Remus rose to his feet, carrying the child out of the bedroom and up the stairs.
When Remus awoke in the morning, Teddy lay curled on the blankets between him and Sirius, and Sirius was smiling in his sleep, his hand holding Teddy’s.
“I have no idea who Regulus would have entrusted to destroy the Horcrux,” Sirius said hoarsely, his hands holding tight to his tea cup.
“That’s alright,” Remus said softly, his hand on Sirius’ knee beneath the kitchen table.
Harry fidgeted in his chair, stealing a glance at Ron and Hermione. They sat side-by-side, their faces intent on Sirius.
“But we know what does destroy Horcruxes,” Harry said, “Basilisk venom, for one—”
Ron laughed coldly, “As I said—”
“Yes, I know,” Harry said irritably, “We haven’t got a basilisk fang.”
“But we can get one,” Remus said, looking away from Sirius to meet Harry’s eyes, “There’s a black market, I’m sure.”
“Where’s Mundungus when we need him?” Hermione huffed crossly.
Remus gave her a wan smile, “Sirius and I can go looking for one today.”
“Regulus…” Sirius croaked, lifting his head heavily, his dark eyes were deep wells, “he said destroying it was dangerous.”
“Destroying the ring—however Dumbledore did it—cursed him,” Harry muttered, “His black hand all of last year…”
“If that is the price I pay…” Remus said.
Sirius’ head snapped to Remus, “You will not pay that price!” He growled, bristling, “I will destroy it.”
“No, I will,” Harry said at once.
Remus raised his hand in pause, “Alright. We shall discuss who will destroy the Horcrux once we have the means of doing so.”
Hermione swallowed, “We can’t help you both with the black market,” she said to Remus, “but what can we do?”
Remus nodded sagely, “Continue your research, Hermione. There might be another means of destroying the Horcrux that we haven’t yet thought of.”
In the days leading up to August 12th, Remus and Sirius left Headquarters each day in search of a basilisk fang. There was still work for the Order to be done as well, and their missions and their search for the basilisk fang kept them quite busy.
Ron, Hermione, and Harry busied themselves with caring for Teddy—and Hermione continued her research on Horcruxes. Tonks came by periodically, and on her first visit she shared a toast to Mad-Eye with Sirius and Remus, her eyes swimming with tears. She had been Mad-Eye’s prodigy in the Auror Office, and they all saw the terrible fierceness flash across her face as she said that she’d work to avenge his death.
Tonks also brought news of the Weasley’s—Bill and Fleur had gone to their new home on the coast, working in deep undercover for the Order. Arthur was back at the Ministry, which was now controlled by Voldemort’s Death Eaters.
It was during Tonks’ second visit to Headquarters, as she relayed news of the Ministry, when they appeared in the square outside of 12 Grimmauld Place.
“Voldemort still hasn’t been seen by any of the Order,” she had said as she had donned her cloak to leave, set to return to her parent’s safe house.
Harry looked away. He still hadn’t spoken more on the connection between him and Voldemort that had resurfaced, and Ron, Hermione, Sirius, and Remus hadn’t pressed him further on the subject. Still, Harry had returned to the bookshelf and the boxes in his mind, and kept closing his eyes to envision the drawing room—his safe space—and a crackling fire, a record spinning…
“What the fuck?” Tonks said in a startled voice, staring out the window of the drawing room.
There, standing in the shabby, small square in Islington, were two men, clothed in black, their faces masked.
Tonks’ face paled, “How…?”
Remus stared out the window, the premature lines stark in his face, “They’re looking…they can’t see the house…”
Sirius’ mouth hung open in frozen shock.
No one had any idea how the Death Eaters had come to know of their concealed presence.
Every day, the two Death Eaters remained in the square, and soon, more joined their ranks.
The morning of August 12th, Remus left to rejoin his werewolf pack for the Full Moon.
At six o’clock in the morning of August 13th, as Sirius, Harry, Ron, and Hermione sat in the drawing room, trying to distract themselves after having found themselves quite unable to sleep at all, the glowing silver Patronus of Padfoot materialized on the carpet before them.
“Come.”
Remus’ voice was so soft that Harry barely registered it before the Patronus disappeared.
Sirius plunged his hand into his robes, yanking out the magical compass Remus had gifted him the Christmas before. Sirius' eyes scanned the coordinates as he waved his wand and Summoned a map.
A minute later, Sirius Apparated away.
For one harrowing second, Sirius thought he had dived back into the Pensieve, back into that memory...
The forest was dark and utterly silent, the trees so tightly rooted together that their canopy obscured the weak light of the rising sun. The Full Moon had only just waned.
Sirius transformed into Padfoot at once, and the dog lifted its furry black snout into the air, and then Padfoot ran.
Padfoot ran and ran, and then he abruptly stopped.
There was a Dark, canine scent lacing the air. It made Padfoot’s tongue curl, the fur on his back rise to standing. The part of Padfoot that was Sirius recognized that scent.
Padfoot stalked forward into a bramble bush, fighting the tremendous growl building deep within his stomach, and peered through the gnarled bush into the forest beyond.
On a mat of moss and twigs, there were two figures. One laying on the ground, the other kneeling. Both bodies were naked, and both were streaming with sticky, hot blood.
“I always liked to make it slow…”
The voice of Fenrir Greyback was equal parts snarl and words. His chest was enormous, matted with dark hair, dirt, and blood. His yellow, barred teeth glinted in the faint dawn light, and one of his long-nailed hands carved along the ribcage of the man laying on the ground before him; blood spurted in seeping lines as his fingers scraped against the bare skin.
“Still…” Greyback snarled, “Such a waste. An Alpha in his prime…with such a loyal pack. What a pity about them. And we could have done great things, my son…”
Remus Lupin’s face was hidden from Padfoot, but he’d know Moony’s scent anywhere.
Padfoot unleashed his growl, and it erupted from his chest as he lunged forward, teeth and claws—
Greyback howled joyously, reveling in the fight, and his nails dug into Padfoot’s fur as the dog pounced on him. But werewolf scraps could not Turn an Animagus in their animal form—he and Moony had tested that too many times to count—and Greyback snarled in anger as his superficial wounds did nothing against the dog that fought him.
Padfoot’s teeth locked on Greyback’s throat, and then there was crack and Padfoot’s jaw clamped down on nothing at all. Greyback had Apparated.
And then Padfoot became Sirius, and Sirius crawled on the ground toward Moony, “Can you Apparate?” He gasped.
Moony nodded only slightly, and Sirius trusted him. He gripped Moony’s hand, and with a crack of their own, they left the Scottish forest.
They appeared a second later in the drawing room of Headquarters, and Harry was there, a blanket to cover Remus’ body and a jaw of Essence of Murlap ready in his hands, his face white, his green eyes huge behind his glasses.
Moony’s wounds bled heavily, but they were truly only trivial. Fenrir Greyback had spoken true on his desire to make it slow—on his love for torture. It had spared Remus from the death blow, left him weakened, but already his supernatural healing was activating, and with the Essence of Murlap, the harm was no worse than the Full Moons he had so often spent ravaging himself in the Shack or in the cellar of Hope’s Cottage.
The true damage had been to Remus’ pack.
Ron and Hermione had retreated upstairs, casting a Silencing Charm on the drawing room and keeping watch to make sure Teddy didn’t wake while Harry stayed to help Sirius tend to Remus.
The healing was quick, and by eight o’clock in the morning, Remus’ eyes fluttered open.
Remus told Sirius and Harry of Greyback’s surprise attack on his pack, of how the wolves had fought against Greyback’s wolf and his ilk, how they had died…or worse, been taken. Greyback and Remus’ wolves had fought until the Full Moon had waned, and in their human bodies, Greyback had carried on…
There were no words to soothe Remus’ pain at the defeat; at the loss of his pack members. At his failure to kill Greyback.
And as Remus had concluded his story, Harry and Sirius both saw in a very rare moment…the shadow of the wolf in Remus Lupin’s face. And then the wolf within Remus howled.
Sirius held him as Remus howled, as his spine arched and his teeth bared, his eyes flashing yellow, the magic of the Alpha was no more, but the wolf's raw magic tore its way out of him, and the pain ripped out of him into the room, bathing them in a magic that was not Remus’ Alpha, and not his love, but that of the wolf in its barest form. Lupine and wild, savage and serrated, the vengeful magic washed over Harry and Sirius, and they weathered it; Sirius’ hand never releasing its grip on Remus’.
But as Remus always did, he fought the nature of the wolf. It relented with Remus’ will, surrendered to its host, and faded back within him.
The magic hummed, became a moan in Remus’ throat, and then was gone.
Sirius fell upon Remus, pressing his cheek to Remus’ chest, and Harry bowed his head and let his hot tears fall, misting his glasses, his own rage and grief becoming his own version of the wolf coursing through his veins.
“Shall we continue the story?” Remus Lupin asked the toddler sitting in the bed beside him on the evening of August 13th.
Teddy just stared at him; scrutinizing. The already-healing scars from Greyback—on Remus’ ribs and chest—were hidden from the child's eyes under Remus’ clothes. Sirius sat in a chair beside the bed, having refused to leave Remus’ sight all day.
“Tell me a story about the wolf, Dad,” Teddy said.
Remus smiled kindly down at the child, “Shall I tell you of the night the wolf first met Padfoot and Prongs?”
Teddy’s small brow furrowed, “Who is Prongs?”
“Our friend,” Sirius said from his chair beside the bed, “Our best friend.”
“Where is Prongs?” Teddy asked.
“Beyond,” Remus answered, “but with us still. In here.”
He pressed his hand lightly to his own still-healing chest and then to Teddy’s own.
“The ones who love us never truly leave us,” Sirius said.
Teddy smiled, the trouble leaving his eyes, replaced by joy, as he said, “Tell me the story.”