Sin of Lycaos

SIN OF LYCAOS

Part Five: Hidden Man, Hidden Beast

by D.M.P.

***

When he is best, he is little worse than man; and when he is worst, he is little better than a beast.

-William Shakespeare, The Merchant of Venice

***

Chapter 17

The night passed in the way that animals can remember it - scent, instinct, bestial intelligence. Minute by minute, hour by hour, the moon made its slow but steady passage across the sky. Its silver light filtered through the steel bars of the holding chambers of the London Safehouse. There, three wolves were locked in the basement: a French wolfhound, a brown-grey lone hunter and a little golden pup.

Locked in by herself, the wolfhound threw herself at the steel door. Thump, thump, thump... The unceasing noise moved like the rhythm of a giant´s heart. Thump, thump, thump... Her instincts were high on alert, but her dark gray eyes were dull and lackluster.

Out. She needed to be out. It became an obsessive thought, clouding her unsteady mind. She needed to hunt. She needed to taste fresh meat. She needed to hunt. She needed to taste fresh meat. She needed to taste blood. She needed to go out. She needed to be free. To leave, to escape, to go, to flee. Out!

Thump!

Her body crashed into the wall, sending a dull pain through her spine and rib cage. But the pain was non-existent; it meant nothing. Her primitive, one-track mind did not even register it. It could only focus on the single goal that raged in every animal. All that was essential to her life was to get past these walls. All that mattered was to hunt. All that mattered was to be free.

And that obsessive thought was destroying her.

In distress, the wolfhound cried out. Out! she said in her wolf tongue. Out!

"Howwwwwwwwwwwwwllll!"

In the chamber next door, the hunter lifted his head at the call. Out! Out! the wolfhound was saying. Out to taste the wind, to run the fields, to stalk the prey. Out!

Yes! he agreed. He was pacing the small room, his hazel eyes scanning for a way to escape. His mind did not have the obtuseness that drove the wolfhound mad. He was a logical beast, a calculating predator. A true wolf, not a handicapped mutt.

With his sharp eyes, he quickly scanned the area. Four walls. Three lengths by five lengths. At the far corner was a window. How high? Cannot be sure. Two lengths, three? Come to window. Jump. Jump! Jump! In a lucky bound, the wolf clung to the edge of the window, but then lost his grip and tumbled to the ground. He miffed in annoyance and left the window alone. Too high to reach, and blocked by bars. Too bad, really.

He then tested the ground beneath his feet. Rough, with the occasional loose bits of gravel. But it couldn´t be dug into - no loose soil. No cracks or markings to pry at. Solid ground.

The hunter approached the door and jumped back on his hind legs to place his fore paws on the metal. Hard. Cold. No scent. He tapped the metal with his nose and scratched at the door. The steel was slippery, causing his paws to skid. The wolf backed off before he could tumble head over paws. This was impossible to break.

Only conclusion: there was no escape.

However, the wolf couldn´t accept this. No, no, there has to be a way! Has to be a way! He needed to be free! He needed to hunt! The hunter growled in outrage and slammed against the steel door. The metal bellowed out with a hollow clang and the hunter was thrown off, hitting the concrete ground.

For a few moments, he lay there, panting. A dull ached radiated from his shoulder where he had rammed the door. Yes, that was too hard to break.

Thump! Thump! Thump! The repetitive beat thumped incessantly in the background. Out! Out! Out! A single word expressed with rapid barks. The noble-blooded mutt wanted to hunt, that was clear enough.

Dumb female, the wolf thought arrogantly. Something was wrong with her, but he couldn´t figure out what it was.

But the feeling she expressed was mutual. To hunt and to taste the flesh was what the wolf craved. The wolf remembered the taste of prey, very good prey. Prey that walked on two legs, and talked in strange sounds. He couldn´t catch one last time; it escaped somehow. Ah, because it had an essence, a taste that repelled him for a moment and made him run away.

The hunter didn´t know what the taste was, but the man hidden within the hunter did. It was the taste of divine innocence that drove the wolf away the first time.

But for that single moment, the raw, hot stream of prey´s blood in his mouth! That was good, very good. The wolf needed to taste that again.

The hunter - savagery - craved human blood.

In that room with the hunter was the little pup, with golden fur and blue eyes. Curled up near the center of the room, she watched the hunter pace restlessly. They wanted to go out, he and the wolfhound. They were planning to escape, if they could only find a way.

But she, the pup, didn´t want to leave. Something - she didn´t know what - was calling to her. A voice, a strange voice, a human voice. It bothered the pup greatly. The voice was repeated only a single line that her animal mind couldn´t comprehend. "Remember. You are human, Mary," it said. "You´re never the wolf. Always. Human."

The pup blinked and looked up at the hunter. He said that, didn´t he? Those alien words which had no meaning to her were said by the hunter. But not as a wolf like her. As a different creature.

"Always. Human." She didn´t understand those words.

She was a wolf, just like the hunter, just like the wolfhound next door. Whatever "human" was, she was not that.

The pup sighed and lowered her head. The words echoed in her head meaninglessly.

Meanwhile, the hunter wouldn´t rest. He continued pacing the room, his frustration growing. He had to leave! He was trapped! Trapped! He stared at the brick wall in front of him, his eyes narrowing. He lowered his head, laid his ears back and bent his front legs, crouching for an attack. This was a trick! He knew there had to be a way out. No one was going to trap him!

"Rrrooooaaaarrrrr!" The hunter sprang upon the wall. A crushing, breaking sound was heard as the wolf ferociously beat against it, slashing with oversized claws as he vented out his rage. Bits of stone dust and chipped rock flew as the supernatural creature madly hacked at the walls, insane on the thought of freedom. From the other side, the wolfhound barked, cheering him on.

The pup got up to her paws. What was he doing? She yipped at him, telling him to stop.

The hunter whirled to face her, growling. Still fueled with rage, he turned away from the wall and approached the pup, his head lowered. His hazel eyes flashed with male dominance as he addressed the pup. He leaped forward and snapped at the pup´s tail. She shied away in fear, the wolf´s jaws a hairsbreadth away from claiming her flesh. The hunter bounded forward, boxing off the pup into a corner. Teeth bared, the hunter emitted a low growl from the back of his throat. It was a warning. Never defy me, the wolf threatened.

The pup whined in a meek voice. She understood.

The hunter lifted his head back up and stared down at the pup condescendingly. You help to escape? he seemed to be asking.

The pup hesitated and shrank back. Inner knowledge told her that the hunter could easily break her neck in his jaw. He could beat her skull in if he wanted to. He could rip her side open and feast on her insides while she cried out in pain. This was the wolf; he was fully capable of any evil intent he deemed worthy to commit.

She whimpered in submission. She would not help, but neither would she stop him.

The hunter gave a quick nod, a human gesture, and turned away from the pup. He knew that he could never hurt her. The magic between them was too intimate; if she dies by his tooth and claw, he shall die also. If he were to attack her, he would be attacking himself. But threats were apt enough to put the pup into submission.

That matter over with, he paced the edge of the room. With his sudden furor subdued, he thought more logically. The hunter decided that breaking out through force would do no good anyway. Another method of escape had to be found.

As the hunter walked away, the pup shuddered to herself. Her heart, which had been racing in near-panic only moments ago, began to slow. She exhaled in relief.

Curling up into a tight ball in the corner, she closed her eyes. Her immediate fear of the hunter was gone, only replaced by a respectful wariness.

The voice continued. "You´re never the wolf, Mary..."

The pup blinked. She understood that! Never the wolf.... Suddenly, she knew that she was very different from the hunter and that other wolfhound next door. She could recall something that they could not. Being a creature on two legs. Talking using those strange mouth noises. Showing kindness and love and laughter, instead of ordering threats and hurting. And the hunter was like that too, deep inside, and so was the wolfhound. They weren´t wolves; they were... human. The pup ran this thought again through her animal mind. Human. They were human.

That meant something, didn´t it?

Thump! Thump! Thump......

A sudden thunk, and the wolfhound´s actions ceased. Complete silence filled the basement for the first time since the transformation. The pup raised her head curiously and exchanged glances with the wolf. In turn, hunter barked once, twice, three times. He waited for a response. Nothing.

The hunter shook his head and dismissed it with an uncaring turn of his head. He didn´t need help from a mutt anyhow.

In the other holding chamber, the wolfhound lay motionless on the concrete. She did not stir again until morning´s light.

***

"Mary? Mary...?" Reverend Grisham called out in his sleep. He raised his hands and unconsciously grabbed at the air as if reaching for something. "Mary??"

"Kevin?" Janet rolled over to face him on the bed, concerned.

Her husband was flailing at the sheets, his voice growing frantic. "I´m here! I´m coming!"

She shook his shoulders roughly. "Kevin, wake up!"

The Reverend Grisham´s eyes snapped open, and he sat up in bed. Where were they?? This place didn´t look like his home! But then he remembered. He and his wife weren´t at their old home in Havenshire. They were in Brighton, living with his sister. Yes, he left his old position back in Havenshire and was here on sabbatical.

And tonight was the one month anniversary of their daughter´s death.

Kevin couldn´t believe it. That she could be dead for so long. Sometimes, the fact was frighteningly real to him, like at the funeral, when his family dropped roses onto the casket that was lowered into the ground. The casket that contained no body.

Yet other times, her death would only be a bad dream. He would wake up some mornings and think, "Mary has to get ready for school..." and get out of bed to go to her room. Yet as soon as he stepped out of the hall, he would be confused. Where was his daughter´s room? It was only then he would remember that Mary didn´t have a room anymore.

Still sometimes he would be talking with someone and mention offhand, "My daughter Mary used to love doing this," or "Mary has been gone for awhile, maybe I should ring up Suzy´s..." and then he would stop in mid-sentence, remembering where he was and why. The truth would hit him with such an impact that his voice would die in his throat, only managing a weak, "Excuse me," before leaving immediately.

Reverend Grisham reached out toward the nightstand for his glasses. Putting them on, he then put his fingers to his temples and leaned his elbows on his knees. "I... I saw her again," he whispered.

Janet snuggled next to him and wrapped her arms around his waist. "I saw her too."

The Reverend absentmindedly stroked her hair as he stared into the dark. Janet always agreed with him, didn´t she? "I saw her too." "I know how you feel." "Mary´s not coming back, dear; yes, I know that..." But, really, how much did she know? She had cried; oh yes, she had cried, but did she really grieve? Could she possibly comprehend what he was feeling? Even now, with her warm body so close by, he felt cut off - even alienated - from his own wife. She couldn´t understand what he was feeling. Every time death had come, she wasn´t there. She had never seen blood like he had, or felt that painful helplessness. She had never heard her daughter scream like he had, or that woman´s desperate attempt at redemption two years before.

Kevin suddenly felt a sharp pang of rage toward his wife,- a feeling that possessed him so often now - anger for making him feel so alone with his emotions. You weren´t there; you don´t know! He wanted to jerk away from her, maybe even hit her. However, that bitterness died the very instant it sprang, and he hugged his wife tightly as if repenting that horrid thought. Kissing her, he felt the tears on her face. Yes, once again he forgave her for not being there.

"It was... it was dark.... She- she was yelling out for me," Kevin Grisham whispered. He held onto Janet with a blind man´s tenderness. "There were shadows out to get her. Wolves, I think... oh, I don´t know!" He let his hands drop. "Calling out. 'Papa....´ " Kevin brushed a hand across his eyes and leaned back against the headboard.

Janet nodded. "She wanted me. She needed my help," she added in hush tones. "And I tried to reach her, Kevin, I know I did.... We were climbing mountains. Between her and us..."

In grave unison they ended, "And I couldn´t reach her."

Both exchanged glances and were quiet. Without Mary, their world was reduced to silence.

"My little lamb...." From their bedside window, the full moon glowed. Reverend Grisham shuddered. That moon. Curse that moon.

"It was just a dream," Janet said, hugging her husband close. "Just a dream."

"Mary´s watching over us now," Reverend Grisham added in justification. "She´s with God now." He had to believe that. He had to shake off the overwhelming feeling in his soul that she was still in this world. She is not here, she is gone, and she is happy wherever she is now.

He had to believe this.

There were no hidden wolves in the darkness. There were no wolves after his daughter. His daughter was dead.

They laid back down on the bed, arms wrapped around each other in comfort.

Just a dream, he consoled himself. It was only just a dream....

Chapter 18

Lupin didn´t know when the wolf in him fell asleep, but the next thing he was aware of was the sharp sunlight hitting his eyes. He shaded his face and saw that the rusty red brick walls of the holding chamber were clearly defined in the morning´s rays. The night was over. The hunter was dormant inside him once more.

And with the day came the numerous afflictions he suffered monthly. His back hurt. His shoulders ached. He could feel a crick in his neck. No wonder, since he passed the night on a concrete floor. Lupin sat up onto his knees and ran a hand through his hair. A nauseating feeling overcame him, but, a result from long years of practice, Lupin restrained himself from vomiting. With the exception of last month, he never usually vomited much after the full moon. If he ever did, it was only excess phlegm and digestive acid, like something heaved up when one was sick with stomach flu.

He noticed that someone was snuggled up beside him. Mary. Her eyes were closed, and a bit of her golden hair covered her face. Her chest rose in fell in a steady rhythm with his.

Lupin sat there for a few moments, as if absorbing the little bit of childlike splendor. He always liked to watch her when she was sleeping; it was a habit he couldn´t get himself out of. An angel she looked like, a sweet little angel.... He placed a hand on her shoulder and carefully roused her.

"Wake up," he said. "It´s morning."

Mary´s eyelids fluttered open. She turned onto her side. Eyes reeling back toward her head, Mary made a weak, moaning sound and clutched her middle. Using quick thinking, Lupin quickly hoisted Mary up at an angle and turned her away from him as her head jerked forward, spewing out a long stream of vomit. His immediate action prevented the both of them from getting soiled.

She floundered in his arms, muttering to herself. "Papa... Papa... the wolves..." she croaked in a raspy voice, her lips stained with spit and grime.

"Hush, hush, my girl." Lupin turned the girl in an about-face and wiped her mouth with the edge of his robe. He shuffled themselves away from the mess on the floor, making a mental note to have that cleaned later.

"Papa... pap-" Coughing abruptly, she cut off her words. Lupin put the robe sleeve over her mouth to catch any spittle and rubbed her back in a circular motion. It was an action he vaguely remembered his mother doing. Mary coughed a few more times, then leaned against his chest, pacified.

Lupin sighed, stroking the girl´s head with his free hand as she lay by his side. Bunching up the soiled part of the sleeve, he wiped her sweaty brow with a clean bit. She had her eyes closed again, and her face was pale and sickly, with hollow circles under the eyes. Surely he must appear the same way as well. Transformation was always an exhausting process.

After awhile, the girl revived herself again. Raising her head from his robes, she easily freed herself from his embrace and stretched out her arms. Yawning as if just waking up from a nap, Mary turned away from him and discovered the presence of the lukewarm, foul-smelling vomit pooling on the ground.

"Did I-? Oh, sorry," she said hoarsely, her face flushing with embarrassment.

"That´s no problem." Lupin brushed the child´s cheek and gently steered her away from the sight.

Mary nodded and stared down at her hands. An almost eerily calm attitude possessed the child. She then raised her porcelain face to the bright light through the window, the sun´s rays outlining the iron bars. Her eyes then traveled around the room, as if she was seeing it for the first time. The massive walls, the hard floor, the cold basement air.... She sighed as if mourning something deep inside her.

Lupin wished, as he did so often, that he knew what the girl was thinking.

"I had a bad dream last night," she whispered.

He asked softly, "What was it?"

"I was a wolf, and you were a wolf too, Remmy. We were locked up in a tiny room with brick walls. We couldn´t get out." Mary´s voice came out monotone, and Lupin looked at her in concern. "You and another wolf... I didn´t know where the other one was... Well, you both wanted to escape. It was scary. You were roaring and growling and the room shook and you wanted to leave and you got mad really fast and you acted terrible at everything and started tearing down the walls-" Mary halted when she stared at the wall in front of them. Several long, deep scratches were there, made by preternatural animal claws.

Lupin bit his lower lip. "I-I did this?" he asked. The memory of being a wolf was never clear to him. Just a bunch of sensations all jumbled up in a mess. The most distinct memory he ever had in wolf form was when he made Mary, and even that was vague.

"It was a nightmare," Mary said resolutely. "It didn´t happen."

"No, Mary. It was real." He wasn´t going to let Mary deceive herself. If she started rationalizing like this, he knew that she would never stop. "It did happen. You were a wolf, just like we talked about."

"No, I wasn´t!" Mary looked at him with large blue eyes. "I was only scared that I would because you said. But it didn´t... I mean, it wasn´t true. Only a nightmare."

"Mary..." Lupin put a hand on each shoulder and held her away from him. "Don´t do this to yourself.... Please..."

Her gaze traveled warily, not focusing on him. "I tried to stop you and you wanted to hurt me..." she said in a quivering voice.

Lupin was stunned. "I did?"

She nodded. "I´m sorry. I don´t remember... I maybe did something wrong..."

"No. It was my fault. I wasn´t myself, you know that." He gathered her up in his arms again and stroked her downy hair. "My fault, Mary. You did well. You did well."

The steel door creaked open. Claire slumped against the door, a hand to her head. Her usual attire of loose gray robes were wrinkled and slightly dirty from the basement floor. Long lengths of black hair fell out of its usual neat braid, trailing down her waist in a tangled mess. Dark circles were under her eyes and the beginnings of a bruise formed on half her face. Yet she smiled at them with half-closed eyes. "So, 'ow was your night?" she asked lightly.

"Claire-" Lupin started, but Madame raised a hand to cut him off.

"I´m fine," she said shortly. "My wolf form 'as a disability." She turned away. "I already 'ave food on ze table if you want it."

She quickly left, but Lupin slipped from the room to catch up with her, Mary trailing behind. He stopped her at the top of the stairs.

"Wolves don´t do this," he said. He put a hand to Claire´s shoulder and she winced and recoiled.

"It was my wolf form," she hissed with the pain. Leaving the basement, she stepping into the kitchen. Lupin noticed that she was limping heavily.

"Wolves don´t hurt themselves!" he fired accusingly.

Claire whirled to face him. "I didn´t do it intentionally!" she snapped angrily. "I can´t 'elp it! My wolf is a-" She stopped herself. "I better straighten myself up," she said instead, heading to her room.

He felt embarrassed at coming to anger so swiftly. "Please," Lupin put a hand on her arm. "Let me."

Claire gave a short laugh. "Wiz zat wand of yours? Remus, you´ve done too much. I might grow to depend on you." She rejected his touch and moved on.

Lupin shook his head, frustrated that her stubbornness was rising up again. But of course, he could be stubborn too if he wanted to.

"If this is what you go through every month..."

Seeing Mary watching them, she tried to lighten the situation a bit. "Kind of like ze menstrual cycle, is it not?" A roll of the eyes, like she was dismissing something minuscule, then she headed off again.

But Lupin blocked her way. "Then right now you´re going through PMS," he quipped in return. "You don´t mean what you say. Emotional unbalances."

"I don´t believe you would like to see a female werewolf go through PMS."

"Well, I can´t really tell the difference otherwise."

She cracked a smile. "Rather I´d like be alone, zen, to 'elp myself and my problems, hmmm?"

"Self-mutilation does not count as a symptom of any feminine syndrome I am aware of," he said, steering them neatly to the subject at hand.

Mary, in the meantime, had her eyes on Claire the entire time. "Madame de Chien-Loup," she said hesitantly. "You didn´t hurt yourself, did you?" Her mother words echoed in her head again, about never letting others hurt themselves. Looking from Lupin to Claire and back again, she asked, "Why do people do this? Hurt themselves?"

Claire sighed and slumped her shoulders, defeated. "I don´t mean to 'urt myself," she explained warily. "My wolf form 'as a disability. I was born wiz mental retardation in ze wolf." She looked away from both of them, suddenly ashamed. "So I can´t take back what my wolf chooses to do every full moon. My wolf repeatedly rams 'erself at ze walls; it is a instinctive reaction gone wrong."

She put a hand on Mary´s head; it was too painful to kneel down to her height. "It´s not anyone´s fault zat zis 'appens," she whispered. "It is 'ereditary. Common in many old werewolf clans."

"But why?"

A simple question. But Claire did not know how know how to respond.

Lupin covered for her. "Magical build-up," he said. "Humans were not evolved to take magic into their systems, so when the dominant ancestor of Claire´s clan was created, his disability in handling the magic inside him lead him to pass this characteristic on to his children."

Claire took over, with a grateful look to Lupin. "And zis characteristic mutated over time, creating werewolf disabilities zat only show during ze transformation. It´s all genetics." A thoughtful look passed over her face when she said this. "I 'ave LOCD," she added lowly. "Lycanthropic Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder."

"Really?" Mary tried pronouncing the name to herself. "Lycanthro-ick Obsessive Com-pillsive... How is it passed on again?" she asked. "Through families?"

"Like if your parents both had certain quality, like blue eyes, the chances of them having a daughter with blue eyes are greater than her having brown ones," Lupin added, simplifying the concept for her. "It works for a number of traits you have, including magical ones."

"So the wolf did it?" Mary hesitantly inquired to Claire.

She nodded. "But I´ll be fine. Don´t worry about it."

"But maybe Remmy should look at it anyway," the girl suggested. "He can fix anything."

Claire gave in half-willingly. "I guess I should," she said in a sudden uncomfortable tone. "Remus is becoming quite ze doctor now for me, isn´t 'e?" To him she asked, "Could you 'elp me to my room?"

"If you want to." Lupin looped his arm around hers and aided her down the hall. Looking over his shoulder, he saw Mary give him the strangest expression. She had a content expression on her face, but giggled behind her hand with some unknown glee. He had no idea what that meant.

After going to retrieve his briefcase, they headed to Claire´s room upstairs on the second floor. The interior retained its original Spartan decor, like all the other rooms in the building. Claire sat down on the bed and propped her leg up. "Ze injuries are along my side and my 'ip," Claire explained uneasily. "I´ll, um, 'ave to, uh..." Her cheeks flushed in a pale pink.

"Oh." Lupin suddenly became aware of why she acted so defensively before. They turned their faces away from each other in an awkward moment.

"I-I won´t look," he compromised, feeling like a bumbling adolescent as he said so.

While Claire made herself presentable, Lupin paid attention to the things around the room. A small dresser was by the bedside, with dozens of little framed photos. Many were of her fellow clan members, immediate and extended. Lupin examined the pictures. They were Muggle-created, which meant that they didn´t move. However, that did not deny the happiness on those faces behind the glass. Quite a few of the photos were shots of Claire with a large-built, pale-faced man wearing dark-tinted glasses.

"Um, who´s he?" Lupin inquired, trying to keep his voice casual.

Claire checked to see that she wasn´t peered at and answered, " ´Im? My brother Bernard. Currently, 'e is a researcher in Nice."

For some reason, Lupin felt relieved at this answer. "In what field?"

"Lycanthrope genealogy."

"Oh." He groped about for another question to ask. "Is, um, your entire family in France?"

"Non. Most run ozzar Safehouses across Europe. Our family business."

"I don´t see many newcomers though."

"When ze program started, ze 'ouses were overfilled. Ze war wiz You-Know-Who 'ad recently ended a few years beforehand and much ill-feeling still existed between wizards and certain non-wizard part-´uman creatures. Werewolves, vampires, and ze like. Some werewolf clans 'ad sided wiz ze Dark Lord and so zis 'atred carried to our entire species. Many lynchings and burnings were 'appening."

Lupin heard Claire sigh. "Zat´s why ze Safehouses were created. As a defense against werewolf discrimination."

"Of course." Lupin had heard of the occasional incident in highly antagonistic places like Northern Russia and Eastern Europe, where the villages were small and very prejudiced. Also, the defunct pro-wizard group (often called supremacist in certain circles,) People Against Werewolf Societies was rumored for being in charge of these attacks, even though no direct evidence was ever found. P.A.W.S. was a dead organization, officially declared illegal and dismantled by the Registry when the Guidelines for the Treatment of Non-Wizard, Part-Human Creatures were implemented in 1948. Yet their possible existence had always kept Lupin on his toes while traveling.

"P.A.W.S. is still 'active´ in some places. People always fear and despise, no matter 'ow much time passes." A rustle of pulled bed sheets were heard and Claire said shortly, "Go ahead."

Lupin looked out of the corner of his eye and saw that Claire was facing the wall on her side. She was in her underclothes with a blanket covering her modestly. Her hair, undone from its braid, trailed down her back. The backs of her ears were burning red and she snapped, "Make it quick."

He gave a nod, even though she wouldn´t be able to see that. Trying to retain as much dignity as possible, he lifted the blanket discreetly.

Along the curve of her hip and trailing up along her back was the dark, nasty-looking bruise, already black and blue. Hopefully, none of the bones were injured as well.

"This... this is bad," he murmured to her, trying hard to keep his eye focused on the injury. "I´m not a professional here, but this could lead to definite problems. If this keeps happening every month, Claire, you could be dislocating your pelvic bone or even throwing your spine out of shape. This could cripple you for life..."

"I know zat," she replied softly. "But it can´t be 'elped."

"What if you employed an assistant who isn´t a werewolf? Or make the Wolfsbane Potion? At least someone has to strap you down during the transformation so you won´t-"

"I don´t need assistants." Claire gave a brief look over her shoulder, calmed by the fact that he wasn´t acting imprudent in this situation. Her bull-headed pride showed through her defensive tone. "And 'ow many people do you know who would make ze potion for me and not charge crazy? Zey gyp werewolves all ze time. I don´t trust many people, Remus, and 'ave ran zis Safehouse by myself ever since it began. I 'ave not needed a single 'and to assist me either."

"Except me," he pointed out.

"Oh," she paused, deflating a bit. "Yes, except you."

"But I can´t help you with this, even if I stayed-"

"Even if you stayed?" Claire repeated. "You and Mary are planning to leave?" she inquired in a small voice.

"I was only thinking about winter lodging here. Afterwards, perhaps we´ll rent an apartment if I have the money. I apologize for not telling you before-"

"It is all right, Remus," she replied quickly. "I should 'ave known." She quickly grew silent.

Lupin bit his lip, wondering about the lengths of discrepancy and gingerly touched the area with the tips of his fingers. Claire flinched and inhaled sharply. "What are you doing?"

"I´m checking if you injured your hip bone." He pressed carefully into a certain spot and asked, "Does this-"

"Yes! It 'urts!" Claire yelped immediately.

Lupin drew back. "Okay, sorry, sorry!"

Claire crossed her arms self-consciously. "Any ideas?"

"Well, I have, um..." Why did he have trouble talking now?? "I have some ointment that I use. Quite convenient for minor things. Would you like me to..?"

"If you must."

Taking out a small jar from the briefcase, he offered it to Madame. She reached over to get it and the blanket slipped.

"Oh!" Claire wrapped the cloth around her again and snatched the jar. She cleared her throat. "Um, merci," she said.

"Your welcome," Lupin said quickly. He got up. "You can give that back to me later," he said.

"Oui," Claire agreed.

"And, uh, you should rest-"

"I will."

The two stared at each other for a moment at a loss for words.

"I´ll just be going then," Lupin ended briskly, picking up his case and snapping it shut.

She nodded. "If you need anything, just..."

"Take care of it myself?"

"Uh, oui, if you don´t object."

Lupin had his hand on the doorknob. "Well, uh, see you."

"You too."

Lupin opened the door to see Mary tumble onto the hall floor. Shutting it behind him, he questioned sternly, "Have you been eavesdropping?"

"Just a little." Mary gave that strange smile again, very wide and giddy. "Claire and Remmy, sitting in a tree-"

"Ridiculous. What gave you that idea??" Lupin brushed past her to the kitchen. "I´m famished, so let´s just eat, okay?"

"Whatever." But Mary wouldn´t stop looking at him that way, not even when Madame de Chien-Loup came for dinner later and they both acted like nothing had happened.

Chapter 19

That night the bell at the gate rung. Lupin and Mary were in a large room with a fireplace that served as the common room, playing with a set of cards. They had no magical games in their possession and used a Muggle set. Mary was in the middle of explaining "Old Maid" when they saw Claire emerging from her office.

The bell rang again. Lupin raised his head in the direction of the doorway. Never before had the bell rung to receive another guest.

Mary slid from one of the tall, straight-backed oak chairs and came to the doorway to peer around the corner. Lupin remained in his seat, but after a few moments rose also to look behind her. "See anything?" he asked.

"Yeah, an old bloke," she replied. "But I can´t hear what they´re saying."

Taking a look himself, he saw Claire step into the foyer with another person. Bushy white hair covered his head and a small bristle mustache hung over his lips. He walked slowly but surely; a stoop hindered his step. Madame seemed to know him quite well, and the two were talking rapidly in a friendly manner.

"Are ze Freedom 'Ounds coming zis year?" Claire was inquiring as they walked down the hall. Lupin and Mary ducked back into the room as soon as they came into view, taking their places by the table.

"Bumped into them bridge-bummin´," the man said in a rough voice that lingered of a lost accent. "They´ll be comin´ in soon enough. Am I the first here?"

"A 'arbinger of ze winter session," Claire added, "Unless you count these two. Zey came about a month ago."

Upon entering the room, Claire introduced her companion.

"M´sieur Jarohnen is a regular," she said, introducing the three. "Jarohnen, zis is, um, John and Elizabeth Gardiner." Lupin noted how she used their Muggle world aliases.

He squinted at the two as if he had vision problems. His eyes were something that caught Lupin´s attention, not only for their critical look, but also for their physical appearance. They were a sharp blue flecked with black - almost like shattered windowpanes - making his stare sharp and calculating.

Lupin made the first move. "Just came here two weeks ago," he said in his most friendly tone, his voice taking on a Yorkshire accent. He offered his hand to the old man. "These places are modern miracles, aren´t they? Usually my girl and I spend our time up north in the countryside where there are no Muggles about."

Mary held his other hand in hers and was staring at the floor. Lupin had explained to her before how they needed to "play pretend" with strangers, yet she never liked it when they had to use their false identities.

"Pretty girl you have there," Jarohnen said, still going over them with that vicious stare. He did not make a move to take Lupin´s hand and Lupin took his arm back.

"A little angel," Lupin agreed. "Lizzie, say hello to Jarohnen."

Mary continued to stare at the floor. She was obviously not in the mood to participate.

Lupin frowned in disapproval. "She just gets a little shy around strangers," he said, giving a slight shrug.

Jarohnen turned to address Claire. "You´re both lyin´ to me, but I´ll forgive ya."

Claire turned her head and brushed a wisp of hair that had fallen over her eyes. Lupin faltered, but quickly recovered. "Well, I have no idea what you mean," he went on in that same tone. "Is this how you welcome everyone you meet?"

"I tell the truth and expect it to be two-way," he replied, still facing the Frenchwoman. "But as I said, I´ll forgive ya."

"Forgive me for what?" Claire rebounded innocently. "Jarohnen, you 'ave spent far too many summers alone. You´re getting too paranoid."

"I´m old, not paranoid." Jarohnen tapped Claire on the nose as if she was just a child. "Look at me straight in the eye next time ya lie; maybe then I´ll believe ya."

"Jaroh-" Claire started again, but he cut her off to speak with Lupin.

"You be Remus Lupin, if I´m not mistaken, right?"

A fleeting moment of pure panic swept over him, yet he still managed to retain his composure. Look him in the eye, don´t panic, speak softly, he coached himself. Again, Lupin gave a light chuckle and shook his head. "Believe what you want," he humored, still a bit uneasy. "I won´t tell you otherwise."

"Good. We´re in agreement then?" Jarohnen grinned. He was missing his two front teeth. "Johnny-boy, when you lived out in the streets for forty years, ya learn stuff. Really, hope ya don´t mind my attitude. If I was twenty years younger, ya woulda fooled me. But Mother always said I was an eagle-eyed jackass." He finally received Lupin´s hand. "The old Ianikit clan of Eastern Russia," he said calmly. Lupin found that the other man´s grip was firm, almost tense. The touch was brief, and with Jarohnen immediately letting go and stuffing his callused hands into the pockets of his ratty old trench coat.

Ianikit. A very familiar name in the werewolf community. During the threat of Grindelwald, it was rumored that Ianikit clan members served as agents for the dark Wizard. When word leaked out to the public, the initial wave of hostility was geared toward the entire werewolf community. In a murderous rampage, a wizard mob destroyed the Ianikit clan house in St. Petersburg (Muggles called it Leningrad back then, in reverence to some other important dignitary) and went on a wolf-hunt for all its members. Two-thirds of the entire clan was massacred within a week. Only then did Ministry officials proclaim the rumors to be false and put a stop to the violence.

Jarohnen´s past was vestige of prestige. That was well over fifty years ago; was he the last member of his clan? If so, then being the sole survivor of his clan meant that the Registry of Magical Creatures now classified him as a loner. He cannot have a family of his own, and when he dies, his lineage would die with him. This werewolf was on par with Lupin, if not more so because both were the last of their family.

"Well, 'Johnny-boy,´ ya got that wand too, doncha?" Jarohnen Ianikit said. "The wizardin´ werewolf of England."

"Well-" Lupin started, uncomfortable now that the old man had seen through his act.

Jarohnen gave a friendly shrug and replied, "Idle curiosity, my comrade. Never saw anyone before with a wand who wasn´t a bastard."

Claire gave in before Lupin did. "I couldn´t never fool you, could I?" she said. She relaxed now that she didn´t have to deceive anyone. Really, Claire would never learn how to manipulate.

"Ya golden to a fault," was all he said. "Would have snooped through ya rooms later if ya didn´t stop spreadin´ the dirt." He gave a polite tip of his head, freely acknowledging the truth. "The wand?"

Lupin shook his head, dropping the game. Out of respect, he took the wand out from within his robes. Jarohnen grabbed at it with quick hands and examined it closely. He chuckled with self-content.

"Now this," he proclaimed to Claire, shaking the wand in his clenched fist, "this is the power I was tellin´ ya about, comrade. Ya can´t hide yaself behind Muggle ingenuity and expect that to shield ya from wizards. Ya must fight magic with magic!" He tossed the wand back to Lupin. "Ya smart 'un," Jarohnen commented. "And a lucky 'un too. If the Ministry only allowed all of us to have a shot at this-"

"Never mind zat talk," Claire cut in quickly. "You want me to show you to your room?"

"Same bunk for the last ten years." The old man sighed and smiled again. "Comrade, ya always put a shushin´ to my rantin´..."

"Because your ranting needs to be shushed." Claire put an arm around Ianikit´s shoulder.

Jarohnen put a hand over hers. "At least we can pray for the saints like ya to protect us from this damned world."

"You flatter," Claire said, leaving the room to head upstairs.

When they were gone, Mary finally spoke. "He said the B-word and the D-word," she proclaimed in a hushed voice, eyes wide.

"Yes, I know he did," Lupin replied.

"And he acted funny. In a weird, creepy way."

"Especially," he agreed. "So I don´t want you to talk to associate him in any way."

"Why?"

"Because he´s the type who saw too much in his life."

Mary paused for a moment. "You mean he knew you were pretending?"

"The whole time," Lupin answered. "He could be a very dangerous man." A worried look crossed the girl´s face. Lupin quickly changed the subject. "But never mind him. Now let´s just continue our game..."

***

Jarohnen Ianikit did prove to be the harbinger of the winter session. Over the next week loners from all over England came to bunk at the Safehouse. Just in time as well, for a killer snowstorm hit southern England by the end of the week, blanking the world with 31 centimetres of snow. Surely any homeless werewolf in London would rather take a room at the Safehouse than rough it out anywhere else.

Because of the increase in numbers and the recent weather Claire activated stricter rules around the place. Restrictions were placed for leaving the building, with check-out times and two-hour limits. Winter welcomed a lock-up session of the Safehouse that Lupin wasn´t familiar with before. Yet no one complained. Maybe the newcomers were more reclusive than he thought. Or perhaps Claire had been lax with the rules when it was only she, he, and Mary.

Most of the werewolves spent their time in the common room, lounging around the fireplace. Most read the numerous books that lined the walls, or started games of chess or cards. Some wrote in thick-volume journals. One thin woman claimed herself to be a freelance writer waiting yet to be published by the wizard press and typed incessantly on her heavy typewriter. An elderly lady knitted thick sweaters that she sold during the fall. Old Jarohnen was ever-constantly pacing the floor before fireplace mantle, talking with other friendly "comrades."

Those people were the Freedom Hounds, a makeshift pack of homeless werewolves who forsworn the wizard world to live in poverty on the Muggle streets. Supposedly it was an act of nihilistic rebellion, but probably made because they couldn´t afford employment in the world they rejected. Lupin saw himself as one of them in the next five years, and wondered if that was a good thing or not.

Mary spent much of her time with the knitter - Lady Winifred she called herself - who taught the girl how to mend socks. Lupin soon became accustomed to sitting with Jarohnen and his circle, despite his initial mistrust of the Russian. His interest was spurred with the small group´s political and social discussions, denouncing the "evils of the Registry and the Ministry" and demanding the "denied freedoms of the werewolf public." Most of the time was spent only venting these frustrations. It reminded Lupin of the old fable where the mice argued over who should put the bell on the cat.

During one heated discussion, Jarohnen stopped his usual pacing and slammed his fist upon the fireplace mantle. "If the Ministry gave us a chance at practicin´ magic," he growled. "We would be equals. We know of the wizarding world; we know of magic! There is no excuse."

"According to the Guidelines for the Treatment for Non-Wizard, Part-Human Creatures, no natural-borns can practice magic," said another, a grey, shaggy-looking man named Ulysses. "Not any pure-blooded vampire, giant, werewolf, ghoul, hag, nobody!"

Lupin felt all stares suddenly turn to him. "Ya Dumbledore´s special 'un," Jarohnen said. His voice held a twinge of jealousy in it. "Dumbledore persuaded the Ministry to let ya into Hogwarts after ya was bitten. More than we can say for ourselves."

"It´s was only an agreement between Dumbledore and my guardian," Lupin said quickly, feeling he had to defend himself. "I had nothing to do with it."

"That´s not the point," another man, Toby, piped up. He had reddish hair streaked with golden highlights. Younger than the rest, he looked barely twenty-five. "The fact that you´re an exception isn´t fair. Anyone should be allowed into Hogwarts. We were denied any magical education only because we´re naturals. But we´re just as human as you."

"When´s the last time anyone´s been over the law books too?" pitched in Ulysses. "I heard Claire had the whole set o´ books in her office. Don´t you remember what it said 'bout breeding rights?"

That Lupin was familiar with. It was the material that he and Claire went over so meticulously, looking for a loophole that wouldn´t get him and Mary into trouble with the Ministry. " 'All registered clan members must marry werewolves from other registered clans,´ " he recited. " 'Not one member can marry any loner or human. Loners cannot marry. Penalty for such is annulment of marriage and destruction of any offspring.´ "

"Nice one, Remus," Jarohnen complimented. "Figured ya might have a reason to keep your eyes on the books." He looked at Mary. She was sitting in the corner trying to untangle a mass of yarn from her knitting needles. In a casual voice, he asked, "What about accidental bites? Find a way out of that 'un?"

Lupin stared at him. "What about accidental bites?"

Jarohnen raised his hands. "Idle curiosity there." Lupin noticed it was one of the man´s catch phrases. "Not like that affects ya or anythin´."

When Lupin wouldn´t answer, Jarohnen quoted for him in a precise voice, like he was reciting from the Bible. " 'All accidental bites must be reported immediately to the Registry of Magical Creatures. If victim is a wizard and is cursed as result of bite, they may seek compensation and help programs through the Registry. If the victim is a Muggle, the victim must be eliminated and all evidence covered up from the Muggle world through the actions of the Department of Mysteries.´

" 'Any werewolf who commits the bite may have the right of trial in front of the Council of Magical Law, with punishment to be decided upon by the Committee for the Disposal of Dangerous Creatures. However, all direct attacks upon Muggles result in capital punishment issued by the Committee.´ "

The group fell silent. They all knew, Lupin realized. Claire figured it out with a day, how long did it take them? He and Mary kept up their pretend games, yet what kind of alibi did he have anyhow, with her about and that Havenshire incident still in the air? He wouldn´t be surprised if the whole community found this out.

Yet he was sure that no one would say a word to the Ministry. Was it because they respected the skills he had? He was one of the best the werewolves had to offer. Others were bitten before him, and yet he was bitten young enough to be considered a natural himself. A werewolf who was able to learn magic under one of Europe´s greatest wizarding schools. A werewolf who beat the system. And these natural werewolves would do anything to protect their wizard.

"Know your books as well, Jarohnen?" Lupin said in his most steady voice.

"Have to know what little rights ya have," he replied, staring into the fire, "lest the Ministry take 'em all away behind your back."

Chapter 20

Buzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz............. The high, electronic noise interrupted the silence of the darkened room.

"Ugh...." Claire turned over on her other side, then immediately recoiled as she put weight on her sore hip. Throwing off the covers to her bed, she lifted her head to view the bedside clock. 3:57 in the morning. Who would be outside at this time of night?

Buzzzzzzzzzzzz..... By her door the intercom droned on, its panel flashing red. She had the system installed in her office and her bedroom, to go off if anyone was at the gate. Yet except for a few emergencies, no one ever knocked at the Safehouse in the wee hours of the morning.

Getting out of bed, she pulled a thick robe over her nightclothes and checked her window. The window looked down over the front of the house and the street. Four figures waited in the snow by the iron gate. Because of the early hour, the sky was still dark. Yet few yards away the streetlight shone on the Ministry vehicle parked by the curb. Navy blue and red. Official colors of the Registry of Magical Creatures.

Claire felt her heart skip a beat at the sight of the car. No, they couldn´t be here! They couldn´t! Should she go out to meet them? Should she ignore them?

Buzzzzzzzzz............

No, she couldn´t ignore such authority. Claire shook her head and opened the door to the quiet hallway. The doors were closed and locked, the hall empty. Her tenants were still asleep.

Her step was heavy, and she limped, still suffering from her injuries inflicted during the full moon. As carefully as she could, Madame crept down the stairs to the front door. Meticulously, she undid each of the locks that along the door, each one making a swift click sound as it was unlatched. Putting on some slippers in the foyer, she checked behind her cautiously.

It was then she noticed that the kitchen light was on.

"They´ve finally come, have they?"

Claire jumped as a figure graced the doorway.

Jarohnen leaned against the open door, arms crossed over his chest. He was wearing the Muggle clothes he always wore: thick-soled tan boots with that stained trench coat over brown trousers and a flannel shirt.

"Don´t do zat!" Claire snapped, secretly relieved that it was only he.

Upstairs, the stifled sound of the intercom continued.

Buzzzzzzzzzzzz..........

"Damn 'em," he said tersely. "Let 'em wait."

"You know I can´t."

"Then take this." From the hidden pockets of his coat, Jarohnen took out a steel object. He flicked a button on it, and a six-inch steel blade popped up from its head. "For your safety, comrade." Another push of the button and the knife disappeared back into its handle. Offering the switchblade to Claire, he added, "Do you have a good spot for 'em to hide?"

She received the weapon and concealed it within her robes. "Attic," Claire whispered, fully aware about who Jarohnen referred to. "Zair´s a truck up wiz seven locks. I 'ave ze keys in my office..."

Jarohnen understood. "I´ll spot ya from here," he said. "Now go."

Claire nodded and opened the door. A night wind blew cold air into the building, and she rushed outside, leaving the door ajar.

The officers waited with seemingly everlasting patience as Claire made her way through the snowy walkway toward them. She got the impression that the four of them were molded from the same cast, they looked so much alike. They were dressed in navy blue robes with a thick red band across the left sleeve. Matching fleece-lined headgear that resembled hunting hats covered their heads. Their boots reflected the faint streetlight. At the gate, Claire asked in her most impersonal tone, "May I 'elp you wiz anything, messieurs?"

With the same impartial attitude, the man to her farthest left addressed her. "Hello, ma´am. I´m Detective Agent Parsons and this is Agent Burk, Agent Fleming, and Agent Williams. We´re here from the Registry of Magical Creatures." All showed their identification in the same quick motion, concealing them again as soon as the badges showed. "May we speak with you inside, please?"

***

"Wake up!"

Someone´s voice shouted and Lupin found himself being shoved out of his bed and onto the floor. Lupin fell, startled, and grasped the side of the stowaway bed with one hand. Taking out his wand, he flourished it at the intruder. "Stay back!"

"Whoa, whoa, hold it there!" A hand-held lantern was uncovered, giving out a weak light, revealing the bearded man. "S´only me, Ulysses."

"Ulysses...?" Lupin sat down on his bed and reached across to the one next to him. Touching Mary´s sleeping shoulder, he felt a flood of relief. She was safe. "Why are you here?"

The man´s black eyes sparkled in the light. "The RMC officers are outside," he whispered. "Jaroh told me to send you two to the attic 'fore they come checkin´ the rooms." He gestured with his head toward the girl. "Wake her up and let´s go."

***

Claire sat down in one of the common room´s oak chairs. None of the officers took a seat themselves and preferred to stand before her, like it was an interrogation. All were clean-shaven and about the same height and build, with dark hair sticking out from under their fleece caps. In fact, she couldn´t differentiate between the any of them at all.

"You may or may not be aware that there was a werewolf attack last month in Havenshire," Parsons began. "One Muggle was killed. A young girl by the name of Mary Grisham."

"Yes, I am aware," Claire replied. "But what does zat have to do wiz me?"

"The Department of Mysteries had been investigating this and a new piece of information has turned up," said another officer. Claire couldn´t tell whether he was Agent Burks, Fleming, or Williams. "They found direct evidence that a werewolf named Remus Lupin committed the crime. Sources say that he disappeared into the Muggle world after resigning from his teaching job at Hogwarts last June."

"Well, I don´t know anyone 'ere by zat name," Claire said immediately. "And zis gives you no excuse to come barging in during ze middle of ze night and disturbing my tenants. What about our agreement? Why didn´t you call instead?"

"The Registry donates over 200 Galleons annually to your program, ma´am," Agent Burk or Fleming or Williams answered sternly. "I believe that we have a right to know how you run this place."

"Are you saying zat I´m a crook?" Claire snapped, affronted. "Zat I just let anyone in 'ere?" One of the officers walked out of the room. Claire jumped up from her seat. "And where do you think you´re going??"

A third officer clamped a hand around Claire´s arm. "We´re only doing our job."

Madame jerked away from his hold. "I´m telling you, Remus is not 'ere!"

"Ma´am, this is for us to confirm for ourselves. If you keep this attitude up," he added darkly, "I´m afraid we´ll have to arrest you."

The officer who left the room slammed on the nearest door with a gloved fist, yelling, "Registry of Magical Creatures. Open up!"

After a few moments, the door opened and Lady Winifred looked out. "Excuse me, but what´s going on...?" she said in her soft voice.

"If you would be kind enough to step out into the hall, please," he replied. "We have a search to conduct."

"Search, what search...?"

But Lady Winifred´s question was left unanswered, as she was moved out into the hall. Madame de Chien-Loup put an arm around the frail woman´s shoulders and stood next to her. Lady Winifred inquired, "Claire, dear, what are these men doing?"

"Only a search, Lady, only a search," Claire said in a tight voice, feeling the internal outrage towards these men. How dare they invade her building like this! How dare they wake her people up at this hour, to shove them out of their rooms like this! What ever happened to courtesy and reason - why this time, why so sudden?? Yet she couldn´t stop them, and Claire felt completely helpless.

Another officer joined him at knocking on the doors. Their harsh voices echoed off the walls, working in a disturbingly efficient routine.

Bam! Bam! Bam!"Registry of Magical Creatures! Open up!"

Bam! Bam! Bam!"Registry of Magical Creatures! Open up!"

Even their voices sounded the same.

Within ten minutes all of the werewolves living on the ground floor were herded into the main hall, still sleepy-eyed and dressed in their nightclothes. They murmured among themselves in low, concerned whispers. Claire was asked many times what was happening and she could only answer, "Just a search - it won´t take long, I´m sure." Anything else and she feared that one of them might let the presence of Lupin and Mary slip, and get them all into trouble.

Upon finishing the task, Parsons said to two others, "Check upstairs." Wordlessly, the ordered men went up to the second floor, their coal-black boots making loud clomp-clomp-clomp sounds against the wooden stairs.

Claire silently prayed that Lupin and Mary had enough time to hide.

***

Up in the attic, Ulysses uncovered the lantern all the way, brightening up the room. Jarohnen was busily sweeping up the thick dust about with a broom, eliminating the tracks they left. "She´ll say that she´s been cleanin´ up here..." he muttered to himself in a reassuring tone. "If they find this place, if they ask questions, she´ll say that she´s been cleanin´..."

Mary was still on the ladder leading up to the attic. "Come on," Lupin took her hands and pulled her up past the last rung.

She yawned and rubbed her eyes. "Why are we up here, Remmy?" she asked in a sleepy voice.

"It´s just another game of pretend," Lupin answered quickly. "We have to play hide and seek for a little while."

"Hide and seek? But I´m tired. I wanna go back to bed."

"You will, Mary. We´ll only be hiding for a little bit."

The muffled sound of door knocking was heard from downstairs. "Registry of Magical Creatures! Open up!"

Jarohnen exchanged glances with his fellow Freedom Hound. "They´ve already started checkin´ the rooms," he gasped.

"Hurry then!" Ulysses pushed Lupin and Mary toward an ancient truck. "Do you have them keys, Jaroh?"

"Yeh, yeh." Jarohnen fished out a large metal ring with a dozen of various-sized keys hanging from it. He chose a rather large, old-fashioned one from the bunch and put it into the seventh lock. With a deft twist, he undid it and threw the trunk cover open.

Within the trunk was a set of stone steps leading to an unknown darkness. A smell similar to rotting wood wafted up from the unknown depths. Mary stared, amazed that this trunk was more than what it seemed. "It looks scary down there," she murmured.

"Don´t worry, we´ll have a light." Lupin muttered, "Lumos," and the end of his wand lit up like a firefly. He guided the tiny light down the stairwell, revealing more stone steps and stained, wooden walls. "See? It won´t be so bad."

"But I wanna go back to bed!" Mary protested. "Why can´t we stop pretending all the time?"

"We just have to pretend, all right," Lupin said, trying not to sound snappish. "There are bad people out to get us."

"There are?"

"Get inside," Ulysses urged. "We can´t be all caught up here."

"I´ll tell you later." Lupin descended down the first few steps and looked behind him. "Time to be brave, my girl."

Mary still had Lupin´s chain around her neck that he gave her a week ago. She wrapped a hand around it as if for protection and nodded. With a moment´s hesitation, she came down the steps to him. Lupin took her hand and led the way, holding his wand out in front of him. As soon as they descended far enough, Jarohnen shut the door to the trunk and locked it.

Ulysses was already halfway down the ladder. "Get over here!"

Jarohnen darted over to the opening. Grasping the sides of the ladder, he slid down in a way that defied his age. Then both men pushed the ladder back up and swung the trapdoor closed. It had a Camouflage Spell on it, so no one would notice its presence once it was shut. The trapdoor slammed with a dull thud, and both cringed. They hoped that the RMC officers haven´t heard.

"You there!" a voice barked.

The two Freedom Hounds froze for an instant, then slowly turned around to see the RMC officers at the top of the stairs, pointing their wands straight at them.

***

Upstairs, several loud thumps were heard, along with shouting voices. Claire looked up at the ceiling and wondered what was happening. Finally, one of the officers came down the stairs, escorting Ulysses and Jarohnen. Claire met Ulysses´s stare and asked a silent question with her eyes. Ulysses gave a slight nod in answer. Yes, they made it.

"I found these two in the hall," the officer reported.

Jarohnen whirled around to face the officer. "Throwin´ us against the wall, can be defined as that?? Well, I´m sure that I won´t go ´round the halls at night, lest I risk gettin´ a concussion from a wizard!"

"That is out of line, wolf," the officer said harshly.

"What ya did was out of line!" Jarohnen snapped back. But before he could say another word, the officer waved his wand and the old man fell. Thin cables encircled his ankles and wrists. Jarohnen shouted something in Russian. //Government scum!// The officer snapped his wand and Jarohnen found himself gagged as well.

"Anyone else willing to talk back?" the officer said, unfazed at the sight of the struggling, bound werewolf on the floor. No one said a word.

Parsons acted as if the incident never happened. "Anyone else up there?" he asked the officer.

"Fleming is rounding up the rest."

Parsons nodded. "Very well. Let´s begin then."

"Begin what?" Claire asked. "You already know who´s present. What more do you need?"

Parsons glared at her. "This is only part of a routine house sweep," was all he said, then sent one of the officers into Lady Winifred´s room.

The burly officer stepped over Jarohnen and stormed through her room. Once there, he roughly pulled open drawers and the closet door, throwing the neatly piled sweaters and knitting bags to the floor. The other did the same, storming through the other rooms.

Lady Winifred looked into her room, seeing the destruction as the RMC officer overturned her mattress and knocked in the panel underneath. "What are they looking for?" The elderly woman asked hotly. "I have a quilt I´m working on in there!"

The officer opened up her closet and began shoving out the crocheted shawls and faded dresses. A large bag of scraps lay on the floor, and the officer accidentally dumped it out, scattering the bits of colored rag and cloth all over the floor.

"I just sorted that!" Lady Winifred exclaimed. "Young man, how dare you!"

"I´ll help pick up, Lady, I promise," Claire said apologetically. "You wouldn´t 'ave to worry about what these jerks do."

After the room seemed thoroughly trashed, the officer left, seeming satisfied. "Nothing here," he called out to the others.

The fourth officer, Agent Fleming, came down the stairs, pushing a line of werewolves before him.

"Did you sweep all the rooms?" Parsons asked him.

"Yes sir. They´re clean."

The second group joined the first, just as confused and bewildered.

"They destroyed my typewriter!" One of them complained loudly, the promising writer. "The idiot did it purposely! Used his wand to dismantle the whole thing!" She crossed her arms and stared at the busy officers, still going through the rooms. "Hell to house sweeping. This is ransacking!"

"Hush, now," Claire comforted. "It´s almost over. I´ll reimburse you for ze damage."

It seemed like an eternity they stood waiting, watching the officers going through their things. Dismissing some, destroying others, and overall making a total mess. Some of the tenants gasped as one of the officers held up one bauble or another keepsake and throwing it to the ground. It seemed like they pick and chose what to smash and what to throw, judging upon the owner´s reaction. A cruel and monstrous game for the officers. And the werewolves could do nothing in protest, because these were government officials, and werewolves could suffer serious reprimands if they were to assault one of them, in words or actions. Jarohnen was proof of that.

After almost half an hour of pure chaos, the RMC officers declared all the rooms in the Safehouse "clean." Ironically, it was the total opposite. In the common room, books and Muggle game pieces were tossed to the floor and whole shelves were shoved aside to look for any hidden entrances. The sofa was even knifed by Parsons, sending bits of stuffing everywhere. The kitchen was more of the same, with cabinets thrown open and pots and pans strewn about.

The tenants´ own rooms were much worse. Clothes and personal items were scattered along the floor. Mattresses were turned over and desks were totally dumped of their contents. More than one werewolf possession lay broken or torn, impossible to repair. The head mistress´ own room was the height of their devastation, with even the bed sheets ripped, her closet cleaned out, and her family pictures shoved onto the floor, breaking the glass fronts and sending shards everywhere.

Yet concern over her tenants´ belongings was what Madame de Chien-Loup raged over. These werewolves had almost nothing to their name in the first place, why go about destroying what precious little they had? And why did they go to such extents as to practically put the place in shambles? What did that have to do with a manhunt??

"Is zat all?" she asked Parsons in a steely voice.

The RMC officer turned to the others. "See any other possibilities?" he asked.

Possibilities to do what? Claire thought. Find hiding places for fugitives or discover chances to wreck something else?

"Does this building have any other rooms not already searched?" Parsons repeated simply.

At the end of the hall, one door remained closed, untouched in the ravaging. Her office. Claire stared at the Parsons with clear hate in her eyes. He wanted to save her office for last, didn´t he? The bastard.

"There appears to be one more left," the officer said in an ignorant voice.

"Yes, zair is," Claire agreed. The repressed fury in her voice could be cut with a knife. "Ze door is locked, so you might 'ave to ram it down. Thank goodness I´m a cooperative little werewolf who´ll open ze door for you instead." Ulysses slipped the key ring furtively into her hand. She marched over to her office and shoved the right key into the lock. With an energetic push, she threw the door open so forcefully that it slammed against the opposite wall. Flipping the light switch on, she gestured grandly with her arms. "Look, 'ere it is!"

One of the officers stepped forward to investigate the room, but Claire stood in the doorway, blocking him. "No sir," she said rudely. "I know exactly what you will do."

"Ma´am-" Parsons warned, but she cut him off and surprised them all with her next move.

"Now, I 'ave observed your methods of sweeping very carefully," she said, stepping into the room. "So I 'ave a pretty good idea 'ow it is done." She walked up to her bookshelves. "See?" she continued. "I 'ave ten years of files and records from every single Safehouse across Europe. Costs of upkeep, tenant lists, owner logs, ze works. All of zem are tediously ordered by date and location. And zis is 'ow you sweep it."

Madame de Chien-Loup came to the first shelf she saw and began pulling all the files, books, and folders off. Papers flew into the air and books tumbled to the floor. The ground soon became littered with fallen records and dotted with thick volumes. Several sheets were torn in the process and pages from open books were simply crushed. As the destruction continued, the other werewolves gaped in shock. The RMC officers only stared at her with stone faces.

After all of the records were tossed, Claire still didn´t stop. "Now you see, Remus Lupin isn´t hiding on any of ze shelves," she said slowly, the sarcasm dripping from her words. "Maybe zair´s a secret room behind zem. Ohhh... now, zat´s a crafty trick!"

Grabbing hold of the side of one of the shelves, she said, "I´m sure you strong RMC officers could do zis in a more elegant manner, but ze result is ze same." In one hefty push, the shelf tipped forward and collapsed onto the mess of papers. Three more times and all of the shelves were tipped over. Claire put a hand to her chin and observed the blank wall with interest. "What? No secret 'ideaway? What a shame!"

Claire turned to the officers and said, "I suppose a wanted felon doesn´t want to 'ide behind bookshelves. 'E must be quite picky for a criminal."

She stomped over to her desk and gasped melodramatically. "But what about ze desk? I mean, no one could fit in ze drawers, but hey, you overturned all of ze tenants´ desks, so why not zis one?? After all," she added bitterly, the volume of her voice increasing. "I could 'ave Remus Lupin´s phone number somewhere, and surely you could use zat!"

Pulling out the drawers, she flipped them over and dumped the contents out with a defiant look in her eyes. She was fully aware that she was completely ruining her office and that it would take days to reorganize. But, Madame reasoned, it would be better for her to destroy her own belongings than to watch helplessly as the RMC officers did it themselves. At least she denied them that pleasure.

"Oh, and let´s not forget ze phone!" She gathered it up, cord and all, jerked the plug off the wall with a sharp tug. "You see, zis is ze only line of outside communication I 'ave," she said, her voice now almost at shouting level. "But of course, you wouldn´t care, would you?? Nah, since you donate those 200 Galleons to my program every year, I can always buy a new phone! You know, instead of wasting ze money paying ze food bills, electricity, and gas!" Claire threw the device to the floor. "And just to make sure zis ordinary phone doesn´t secretly unlock some sort of passageway or something, I must smash it to bits! Like how one officer smashed up my tenant´s typewriter, which I must also to pay for wiz your 200 Galleons, by ze way." Claire picked up the phone and dropped it repetitively until the backing broke and all of the wires stuck out haphazardly.

"Last, but certainly not least, is zis computer I 'ave." Madame went over to the monitor and leaned an elbow on it. "Muggle technology. I know 'ow all you wizards don´t understand it, even scorn it. So, despite ze fact zat it 'as nothing to do wiz searching for Remus Lupin, I´m sure you´ll just destroy it anyway because you despise all Muggle things." Claire knocked the monitor over, along with the hard drive. Both items smashed on the ground. "I can´t afford to buy a new one, since I´ll 'ave to use your precious 200 Galleons in fixing zis place up! But c´est la vie!!" Claire shrugged exaggeratedly, throwing her arms up into the air. "And zat, dear, dear, Detective Agent Parsons," she ended dramatically, "is 'ow you sweep a room!" She stood, arms upraised, breathing heavily, with a formidable look in her eyes.

I dare you, she seemed to be saying. I dare you to react. I dare you to arrest me.

And everyone stood motionless, waiting for the officers to react. Waiting for Madame de Chien-Loup to be arrested.

For a second, Parsons retained that bored expression he possessed throughout the entire escapade, but then he snapped back to life. "Well, well," he said calmly. "I see I don´t have to send one of my officers to sweep this room. Wonderful job, ma´am. You have my compliments."

"I´m so glad I earned your respect, officer," Madame de Chien-Loup spat.

Agent Parsons waved a hand toward his fellow men. "I think this place is clean. Thank you for your cooperation, everyone." He waved his wand, and Jarohnen was freed from his bonds. The werewolf continued to mutter to himself in Russian, rubbing the pain out of his wrists and ankles. The silent, monolithic mass of officers then moved down the hall and out the door. Several werewolves watched from the doorway as they got into their car and drove off.

As soon as they were gone, Jarohnen burst out. "DAMN 'EM!!" he yelled. "THE STINKIN´ BASTARDS!" He tried to get up, but his legs were reduced to jelly and wouldn´t hold up.

Lady Winifred went over and linked her elbow in his, helping him stand. "Quiet, Jeroh," she said warily. "Don´t make it worse now that it´s over."

"It´s always they same - sons of bitches taking advantage of us!" Jarohnen balled his trembling hands into fist and shook his head. "My clan spied for the Ministry during the threat of Grindelwald, dear Lady. We worked for them!"

Toby the young Freedom Hound put a hand to his forehead. "We know, Jeroh. Don´t start it up again," he said, supporting the man on his other side.

"And they never helped us when P.A.W.S. attacked! They never helped us at all! They used us! USED US!" Jarohnen grieved, ranting.

"We know, we know, old man," Toby said lowly, eyes downcast. He swallowed hard, as if expecting the worse to happen. "Just try and calm down..."

Lady Winifred and Toby helped Jarohnen back up the stairs to his room. "Some rest and some tea," Lady Winifred said in a soothing voice. "Let me make you some tea, Jarohnen, and let us forget."

"Never forget! How can ya forget when they shove ya out of bed at 1 AM? How can ya forget trying to save the children from the burning house? How can ya forget seeing ya wife hangin´ from a meat hook in the town square??" Jarohnen broke down at those words. His feet stopped moving and he leaning on the railing, moaning, "Anya. Dear Anya..."

"Shhhhhh...." Lady Winifred and Toby exchanged glances. Toby lifted Jarohnen into his arms. The Ianikit weighed almost nothing.

"St. Petersburg again..." he murmured as the three ascended to the second floor. "Everything reminds him of St. Petersburg..."

Other werewolves started to go back to their rooms as well, to see if they could salvage anything from the devastation. Claire sat on her knees in the middle of her trashed office, her head bowed. Ulysses went over to her and put an arm around her shoulders. "You okay, Claire?" he asked.

Madame de Chien-Loup raised her eyes to meet his. They were brimming with tears, but a smile was on her face. "Did you see ze looks on zair faces?" she said, her voice hoarse from screaming. "Either way, zey got what zey wanted. I was so scared of zem and so angry...." She made a stifled choking sound that came out as a strangled laugh. The weak smile on her face grew.

Ulysses worried, "Claire-"

"But we survived," Claire declared, throwing her arms around him in a strong hug. Ulysses leaned back, surprised, but then embraced her as well. She buried her head in his chest, her whole body shaking with emotion. For the first time in the ten years Ulysses had known her, he saw her cry. But she was also laughing triumphantly through her tears.

"Look at us! Zey try to destroy us, but we are 'ere! Zey take our pride, our possessions! Zey demean us, toy wiz us! Yet zey cannot kill us!" Claire´s voice cracked as she said her next words. "Zey cannot kill our souls! We survived, Ulysses... We will live...."