Sin of Lycaos

SIN OF LYCAOS

Part Seven: Runaway

by D.M.P.

***

Wilt thou forgive that sin, where I begun,

Which is my sin, though it was done before?

Wilt thou forgive those sins through which I run

And do them still, though still I deplore?

When thou hast done, thou hast not done,

For I have more.

-John Donne, Hymn to God the Father

***

Chapter 25

He didn't come at Ludo's announcement. The crowd clamored, yet entrance to the enclosure remained empty. Ludo made a show of clearing his throat and repeating again in a louder voice, "May we present Harry Potter!"

A few seconds passed and when the young wizard still didn't show his face, the audience started murmuring to itself. Where was Harry?

From the stands, Lupin got up from his seat and checked in the direction of the yellow tent. Many others around him did the same. Did the boy chicken out of the event? No, he couldn't have, though no one would doubt that the boy possessed a reason to. Lupin would be highly disappointed if he did.

In the arena, the Hungarian Horntail was already on her clutch, gazing out at the stands with bitter distaste. Being the most ornery of the dragons, she was obviously disgusted at the invasion of her privacy. Flicking her spiked tail about, she grunted to herself and planted her body more firmly on top of her nest.

Ludo gave a call in the form of a whistle blow. Finally the tent flap was raised and the boy poked his head out.

Around him, the audience clapped loudly as Harry stepped out into the arena. Down in the enclosure, the Hungarian Horntail stared directly at her opponent. A low raspy growl emitted from her throat.

Lupin folded Jarohnen's hands across his lap and sighed. There he was. Harry remained almost unchanged since Lupin had last saw him, but still the boy's presence struck him dumb. It had always been a shock that Lupin had never been able to cope with - how much Harry resembled his father.

Harry stared straight ahead, ignoring the crowd. Quite a difficult feat, since they were all screaming at the top of their lungs. A couple even chanted, "Harry! Harry! Harry!" from the stands. Lupin glanced over to see who they were. Colin Creevey and a smaller boy that must have been his brother were standing on their seats. Both were waving large signs which read in block lettering, "HARRY POTTER = HOGWARTS #1 CHAMPION!"

Focusing intensely, Harry stiffly raised his wand. The crowd was instantly silenced. And in a voice louder than Krum's had been, he commanded, "Accio Firebolt!"

A wave of excited whispers rushed through the crowd. Harry was doing something none of the other champions had done: he was summoning something outside of the enclosure to aid him. The idea was so original, so ingenious!

Lupin's nervousness was instantly washed away. Harry knew what he was doing. He'll make it.

The boy remained rigid with his wand arm in the air. It was as if he was praying for the broomstick to come, hoping that the spell worked....

Finally, after those few anxious moments, a faint zoommm was heard, as something thin and swift cut through the air. From the edge of the woods, the Firebolt was a faint slash of dark brown - then it grew larger - everyone gasped at the appearance of such an beautifully crafted broom - and the Firebolt made a dead stop beside Harry. Swinging a leg over, Harry straddled the broom and kicked off the ground. Soon, he was high in the air, the wind blowing against his robes and tousling his hair.

Flying higher and higher, the boy seemed to vanish in the sky. He was minuscule - smaller than a pinpoint. Audience members rose to their feet and put their Omniculars to their eyes, straining to see where the young wizard was. Lupin remained seated, but had his head upraised.

Then, quicker than lightning, the boy dove. And it was more than just a dip to the ground; this was racing toward the earth, a dive-bomb with the agility of a dying phoenix. The crowd gaped in awe. The Hungarian Horntail watched the oncoming wizard intently and released a sudden burst of orange and gold flame. Harry swerved, missing the fire by mere yards.

A hushed murmur whispered through the audience as the boy grew nearer; some of the front seaters shrieked aloud. Bagman was jumping from his chair, shouting with amazement, "Great Scott, he can fly! Are you watching this, Mr. Krum?"

Trying another tactic, Harry was now flying in circles, attempting to confuse the Horntail. The spectators were moving their eyes to follow Harry's dizzying moves, and Lupin felt his heart jump. He remembered another young boy who did a similar move during a Quidditch match years and years ago...

The Horntail drew her head back to breathe fire again, and Harry ducked - only to meet up with the dragon's spiked tail. It whipped about and caught him in the shoulder. The crowd groaned as Harry flew off, his course teetering, but then he regained his balance. The wizard was safe.

As Harry kept distracting the Horntail, vivid memories couldn't help but push into Lupin's mind. Harry had the same exactly flying style as James. The way he crouched low on his broom just right before a dive, the way he leaned toward the his left just a bit while steering, the way he made those spilt-second swerves - it seemed as if a bit of James had come to life within him. It was almost too much for Lupin to watch the boy and be reminded of James. That was why he mostly avoided Quidditch games when he taught at Hogwarts. Once he had found out Harry was on the Gryffindor team, he stayed away the field as if it was contaminated with the plague. He only attended at single game, and was instantly blown away when Harry performed the Expecto Patronum. But his flying skill now was better than Lupin had ever seen...

The boy turned around again, trying to motivate the Horntail to rise from the clutch... he tempted the dragon by flying just close enough yet still out of reach....

"Look at him go!" Bagman was yelling at the top of his lungs. "The Horntail is hesitating... The beast is preparing to take off.... Is she going for it? Is she? Is she??"

Harry rose higher and higher, daring the dragon to catch him. The Horntail was hesitating beneath him, caught between the struggle of leaving the nest or pursuing the enemy.

"I have never seen anyone fly like this before!" Ludo cried gleefully.

Yet Lupin had. In his mind, the boy hovering in the air was changed by memory's hand to his predecessor. The dragon wasn't a dragon any longer, but Gryffindors battling it out with the green-robed Slytherins. Lupin wasn't in a crowd of strangers, but with his friends, Sirius by his side and Lily sitting behind them...

The wind was warm and balmy as it blew across the Quidditch field. A blue, cloudless sky graced overhead, and Lupin had a hand over his eyes to shade them from the sun. The Quidditch match was in medias res, with the Slytherins far ahead of their opponents.

"Potter grabs the Quaffle... he's heading up the field..." The announcer's voice was growing tense with excitement. "Faulkner is at his tail, James does a quick turn - oh, too bad you missed him Daryl! The Gryffindor Seeker is hunting for the Snitch... yet the score is 20-170, and if she gets it too soon, the Gryffindor will still lose the match!"

Sirius turned in his seat to face his friends. "Remember our bets, gentlemen?" he asked coolly.

Lily rolled her eyes. "I can't believe you guys. Wasting your money on a stupid game."

"What?" Peter defended. "It's only a little friendly gentleman's wager. Isn't it, Moony?"

Lupin was silent, keeping his eye on the game. Holding a thick notebook in his hands, he carefully went over the set of odds in his head. Take the StarShooter, plus Slytherin winning chances....

"Hey," Black tapped him on the shoulder. "How goes the match, my bookie?"

"Well, we did have a four out of five chance of losing..." Lupin muttered. Flipping through the pages of the large, cluttered notebook, he put the tip of his quill to his lips in concentration. "Gryffindor's the underdog here, especially since Malfoy got that new StarShooter 200..." Inside contained little rows and columns of numbers. Betting wages, probability charts, team stats. These were only "gentleman's wagers" of course, but still at every Quidditch game, Lupin managed to take bets for half the school. It was a simple, lucrative hobby; last game he earned 50 Galleons when Hufflepuff beat out Ravenclaw.

Sirius scoffed. "Malfoy may be Slytherin Seeker, but our Cynthia is ten times better."

"He's been looking to end this game since Slytherin first scored," Lupin pointed out. "They're looking to finish it quick while they still can."

On the field, Lucius Malfoy hovered over the ground on the prowl. Cynthia wasn't far behind and the two trailed each other, trying not to let the other Seeker find the Snitch. Above them, the Quidditch players zoomed and darted about.

The announcer boomed overhead. "Now Slytherin has the Quaffle; Potter tries to take it away. Both Goyle and Potter head to head, but- oh!"

Goyle's back leg kicked out, trying to hit James in the face. He missed, but the kick threw James off-balance, and he plummeted toward the ground.

"That asshole!" Lily jumped to her feet and put her hands around her mouth. "FOUL! That was a foul!!!"

James pulled up his CometChaser hastily, and rose back into the air, much to the Gryffindors' relief.

A young Madame Hooch blew the whistle to call the game to a halt. However, the Slytherin captain protested loudly. "He didn't hit him! Gryffindors don't get a shot!"

"Well, Slytherin's going to win this easy," Peter pointed out. All the Slytherins hovered in the air around Hooch, complaining loudly. The Gryffindors were off by themselves, with the captain asking James if he was all right. He nodded, then looked over his shoulder to wave at his friends.

"That why I bet on Slytherin," Peter pointed out. "They've won every game this season. It's only logical."

Sirius glared at the stout boy out of the corner of his eye. It wasn't the first time that Peter's logic got on his nerves. "I'm sure we'll score a Quaffle," he said optimistically. "Then Cynthia can catch the Snitch. That's all there is to it."

Now it was Peter's turn to scoff. "Fat chance of that happening."

"Guys look!" Lupin interjected. The game had started up again, with no foul declared against the Slytherin team. However, James had possession of the Quaffle and was racing down the field.

"Potter has the ball- Thompson hits a Bludger his way. Oh, close one, James, watch out! Wait, there's commotion down at the south end...!"

Lucius Malfoy suddenly darted out toward the opposite end, riding low on his broomstick. Cynthia tailed him, both of them heading toward the Slytherin goalposts along with James.

"It looks like a mad dash!" the announcer shouted. "Samson and Malfoy going for the Snitch. Potter going for the goal. Goyle, Thompson, Faulkner, each after Potter. Chaser, Seekers, and Beaters - all tearing up the field, people! A marathon to the finish!"

James had the Quaffle tucked tightly underneath one arm. Seeing the trio trailing him from behind, he steered his broom to the halt. Amazed, the others did as well, lest they crashed into each other. James then went completely vertical, flying straight up into the air.

"What in the world is Potter doing??" the announcer questioned. "He's turning circles!"

Indeed he was. With agility that was beyond all the other players combined, James led his pursuers astray, turning round and round in loose circles. The three tried to triangulate and then box the Chaser in, but James always zoomed out of their range just in time.

"Potter escapes Faulkner's grasp! Goyle flies ahead - look out Potter!"

James was close to the goal posts, just a dozen yards away. He raised his hand to throw the Quaffle toward the hoop-

Thompson raised his club arm to hit a speeding Bludger his way-

The Slytherin Keeper dashed in between to intercept James' throw -

Cynthia dive-bombed toward the ground -

The Bludger flew from Thompson's club with a loud smack-

Lucius grabbed the back of Samson's broom and pushed her out of the way -

The crowd groaned aloud.

"Rich bastard! FOUL!" Sirius yelled.

Lily screamed, "James, you can do it!"

James turned his head -

Faulkner zoomed in to steal the Quaffle from his grasp-

"Potter throws in the Quaffle! Samson swoops down upon the Snitch, followed by Malfoy! Here it comes folks!"

The Quaffle became air-born, leaving James' hands just as Goyle crashed into him-

The Keeper sprung upon the red ball-

Thompson's Bludger came soaring toward the Keeper and the Quaffle, just where James was, ricocheting off the Slytherin's head-

James spun through the air, tangled up with Goyle-

The Quaffle soared through the Slytherin hoop-

The Slytherin Keeper fell like a stone to the ground-

Lucius moved out of the way of the falling team captain-

Cynthia scooped something in her hand and was steering her broom upwards, screaming hysterically with her arm upraised-

The announcer. "DOUBLE SCORE!!! Potter dunks a Quaffle and Samson catches the Snitch!! GAME OVER!! GRIFFYNDORS WIN!! ONE HUNDRED AND EIGHTY TO ONE SEVENTY!! GRYFFINDORS WIN!!!"

One tidal wave of sound and color rose from the bleachers as banners were waved, shouts of joy were cried, and the Gryffindors ran out into the field. James sailed over the crowds on his broomstick, a wild whoop escaping his lips. In the stands, Sirius was pumping his fist into the air. "I knew it! I knew it!" Lily was clapping her hands together wildly, screaming at the top of her lungs, then in her excitement threw her arms around Lupin. Peter was still seated, fuming to himself.

All around them, the noise level increased with wild fury. Amid the cheering fan, Sirius poked Peter in the shoulder. "How much does Wormtail owe us, Moony?" he grinned.

Lupin checked the stats. "I believe," he said loftily, "the total amount calculates to fifty-five Galleons, twenty-four Sickles, and three Knuts."

Peter had his arms crossed, fuming. "I can't believe it," he muttered. "The odds looked so in favor for Slytherin..."

"Well, deal with it," Sirius grinned. "James is one hell of a flyer. It's only logical, Peter, that he'd figure out a way to win."

The wind blew again, except that it was cooler this time and filled with dust. And a loud inhuman cry accompanied it-

"RROOOAAAARRRRR!!!"

Lupin was plunged back into reality, as the Horntail flapped those giant, black, leathery wings. The back draft sent a swirl of dust and air toward the crowds, and the audience coughed and spluttered, putting the sleeves of their robes over their mouths. Harry was still moving back and forth right above her, dipping down and rising up as he played the dragon.

"Looks like the Horntail is taking the lure!" Bagman cried. "She's flapping - look at that wingspan, folks! She's rising to the air-"

As soon as the Hungarian Horntail raised her front legs, Harry saw his chance. Like an eagle fixed upon his prey, the boy wizard dove toward the ground to the small opening. The boy was a blur through the air - he darted between the dragon's legs - the Horntail looked confused for a moment, then roared in anger as she tilted her head to look down at her feet. By then it was too late for the dragon to do anything.

"Look at that!" Bagman was yelling. "Will you look at that! Our youngest champion is the quickest to get his egg! Well, this is going to shorten the odds on Mr. Potter!"

Lupin was up on his feet and for a moment, and was caught up in a feeling of déja-vu as Harry soared over the stands, the golden egg tucked under his arm.

"That's it, Harry!" he yelled up from the crowd, not caring that Harry probably wouldn't notice him from the hundreds of others there. The only feeling he felt was a confusing parallel between Harry and James. At this time and place, the two became one, and Lupin cheered for a dead friend and his living son. "Wonderful job, absolutely wonderful!"

The dragon keepers came foreword to take care of the Horntail. Meanwhile, the crowd became the roaring mass of praise, as the people reacted to the last of the four champions. Lupin took note that Hermione threw her arms around Ron and was laughing so hard that tears stung her eyes. Then, the two jumped from their seats. Hermione, holding Ron by the hand, ran past Lupin and down the grandstands, headfirst toward Harry on the field.

Leaving early, Lupin noted. Good idea. Surely if he left with the other spectators, he might get caught up in the masses and wouldn't be able to find Harry. I'll follow them, he reasoned, getting up from his seat. Surely Harry and his friends would wait until his score was announced, and Lupin would confront him then in the inconspicuous crowd.

Checking his watch, he took note of the time. He was still in disguise as Jarohnen Ianikit of course, and he took the last of the Polyjuice Potion during Fleur Delacour's task. That was roughly half an hour ago. Therefore, he had less than thirty minutes until this disguise would wear off. He would have to speak to Harry quickly and as soon as possible.

***

Croaker watched as werewolf number 176 rose from his seat and descended down the aisle. The Ianikit was acting peculiar, nothing in the manner that the Unspeakable was expecting. First of all, the werewolf seemed to be highly pro-wizard to watch such an event. Judging by his reaction, he certainly had a liking toward Harry Potter. Usually the creatures were highly antagonistic toward other wizards. Most of them wouldn't give a damn about any of them, even someone as renown as Potter.

Two young students had rushed past the werewolf at the end of the task; they were probably Harry's friends and wanted to speak with him. Oddly enough, the werewolf then rose to his feet as well, and followed twenty steps behind them.

Croaker frowned to himself. This didn't make sense. Why would the werewolf want to follow those students? Possibly to meet Harry himself? And what good would that do? Could this beast actually be one of the boy's fans?

A stifled laugh burst from Croaker's lips. Now that was too much! It was clearly documented through the entire history of human-werewolf relations that the werewolves always were abusive and aggressive toward human, Muggle and wizard alike. Though that werewolf's clan was the exception to the rule: the Ianikit brood helped the Ministry significantly during the threat of Grindelwald. But of course, Croaker thought to himself, the Ianikits probably only wanted to cooperate with the Ministry in order to obtain spell-casting permission. That what all naturals aim for ultimately: the ability to practice magic.

Well, certainly the wolf isn't going to go and steal Harry's wand now was he? Croaker shook his head. What strange, strange animals these werewolves are. They're definitely not as predictable as other magical creatures.

He put a hand to his ear. "Jaguar, Croaker here. I am establishing an on-foot passive pursuit of werewolf subject. Over."

***

Lupin watched as McGonagall guided Harry out of the enclosure and back to the yellow tent. Two others flanked them as well, spouting their own congratulations. Lupin easily remembered Hagrid, the towering Care for Magical Creatures teacher. One of the most accepting members of the Hogwarts faculty, Hagrid had stopped by his office quite a few times while dealing with Buckbeak's trial last year, to talk about magical creature legal rights. Hagrid had also given him a gift of a dozen flobberworms when he resigned from Hogwarts last June. "Jus' ter keep yeh company," he told him. "No' too much trouble ter care fo', as long as yeh keep 'em fed." Lupin thanked him for the gift (it was the thought that counted) but later released the flobberworms into the first ditch he came across, where they probably lived happier lives.

The second man, however, Lupin had never seen at Hogwarts before.

He was a well-built, stocky person with grizzled steel gray hair and a worn, weather-beaten face. His face had one dark beady eye and a magical light blue eye that moved on its own back and forth. One wooden leg accented his step with a hollow clump; the unsteady gait jaunted the stainless-steel flask hanging from his hip.

Lupin exhaled slowly. Mad-Eye Moody, the famous Auror in the flesh. What was he doing here?

The two professors only had a moment to speak with Harry, for then Madame Pomfrey dragged him off into the medical tent to care for his injury. Hagrid and Moody both walked past Lupin, still complimenting the boy.

"I knew 'e could do it," Hagrid was beaming. " 'E got a bit o' James Potter in 'im. Would 'ave made 'is parents proud."

"The dragon's only the first, though," Moody warned. "Next time, Potter might not be as lucky."

Lupin looked toward the medical tent where Harry had disappeared off to and might have not paid heed to either of them at all. However, something distracted him.

A faint stench of prune juice and rotten eggs. The scent of Polyjuice Potion.

Lupin coughed and put a hand over his nose. Was one of his canteens leaking? Checking the containers slung on his belt, he found that each were tightly sealed. Then where was that smell coming from?

Raising his head, he turned in the direction of the two professors. Mad-Eye Moody had unscrewed the cap to his flask and put it to his lips. Silently, Lupin took two steps forward in their direction. The subtle yet poignant smell of the potion invaded his sensitive werewolf nose. He turned away and covered his face.

Moody tilted his head back and took a swig from his flask before re-capping it and continuing his conversation with Hagrid. But their words fell dumb to Lupin's ears. A startling realization came upon him. Yet he wouldn't go as far as to voice this concern; he shouldn't be jumping to conclusions. But needless to say, that scent had to be coming from somewhere.

Hermione and Ron had arrived onto the field and slipped into the medical tent. Lupin glanced at the entrance, and then again in the direction of the leaving professors. He bit his lower lip in indecision. He reminded himself that he was here to protect Harry, whether the boy was aware of this or not. Finally, he left the tent area to follow the DADA teacher.

***

The old wolf headed in the direction of the two Hogwarts faculty members. Croaker took note of the werewolf's movements with a calculating stare. The wolf is out to get the Auror now. Of course there would be a perfect motive; Moody hunted down Dark Wizards and was an active tactical officer during Grindelwald's terror. It was he who decided that the Ministry shouldn't intercede during the St. Petersburg incident. Probably the creature had an old score to settle.

Croaker shook his head. The old coot is going to get it. Unless Croaker did something about it. Oh, he would just love to see the incompetent Dumbledore eat his words upon discovering the death or fatal injury of his newly-acquired teacher. To depend upon a delusional old-schooler when modern magical technology and police efficiency could protect this place a hundred times better!

However, he couldn't risk letting even Moody get hurt. Suppose I have to go save his ass, he thought smugly to himself.

***

Hagrid and Moody parted ways when they arrived at the castle. "Want ter check up on tha' Fireball," Hagrid had said. "Poor girl looked terrible. Krum shouldn't 'ave used tha' Conjunctivitis Curse of 'er. She could 'ave been blinded."

"Go on then," Moody replied. "I've got some papers to correct in my office. Give Charlie my regards."

Lupin watched Moody enter the castle, counted slowly to a hundred, then followed. The Auror was known for his "constant vigilance" and Lupin didn't want to take any chances. He was slightly surprised that Moody hadn't noticed him beforehand. Maybe he was preoccupied in his conversation with Hagrid, but Lupin expected the wizard to be more alert.

Trailing him was more than easy. Soon, the grounds were flooded with people after the First Task officially ended, and Lupin simply slipped through the swarming spectators to the castle. Stepping inside, he felt the reminisces of old memories stirring up again, from both the distant past and the recent last year. He quickened his step, keeping to the shadows.

Moody seemed in a hurry as well, taking a shortcut through a side door to reach his office. Lupin took the long way through the labyrinth of corridors, just in case the wizard suspected he was being followed. A couple times, Lupin stopped himself, sensing someone behind him. However, when he looked about, he found himself alone. Maybe Jarohnen's paranoia tendencies were getting to him....

Stopping at the corner before the DADA office, he watched as Moody came in the other direction and stopped by the locked door. Unlocking it, he slipped inside, letting the door shut by itself. It swung to a close; however, the door remained slightly ajar. Lupin paused for a few moments to see if he would come and shut it completely. Yet he didn't.

Lupin wondered at the teacher's carelessness. He never expected to be able to get this close to him. The ever-watchful Mad-Eye Moody just didn't seem to be as vigilant as he was cracked up to be. How peculiar.

Taking his chances, Lupin stopped just outside of the office door and peered through the crack alongside the hinges. Strange to think that this very office used to be his once. When he was teaching, Lupin had filled it with a multitude of Dark Creatures of all shapes and sizes. Glass boxes and charmed cages had covered the walls, with scribbled class notes and reports plied in between.

Moody changed the room drastically with his coming. Lupin comfortable mess had been converted to cleanliness of military precision. Books were lined up on the shelves as if they were never even used, and a large trunk with seven locks was pushed into the corner. Several pieces of Dark Detection equipment also laid about. A large Sneakoscope was gently rolling back and forth on the desk, dull and silent. On the corner of the desk sat a Secrecy Sensor, and a Foe Glass graced the back wall. Currently, the shadows contained within were blurred and dark; Lupin was glad that the instrument hadn't detected him as a possible enemy.

Moody was at a low table alongside the wall where the door opened parallel to. He didn't seem to be working on student's reports at all, but instead gathering a mass of magical ingredients out of a sack that lay on the floor underneath the desk. Lupin took note of the items as Moody placed them on the tabletop.

A large jar of lacewing flies, the little insects still buzzing about within the glass.... A bundled roll of fluxweed and knotgrass.... A cardboard box labeled, "Red-Eyed Leeches,"... A small jar of luminescent powder - must be from a bicorn's horn...

As the items were assembled on the table, what they were dawned on Lupin. Those were the ingredients for Polyjuice Potion! It was true; that was what Moody had in his flask! And if he was drinking Polyjuice Potion - someone was imitating Mad-Eyed Moody! There was a saboteur at Hogwarts...! Lupin had to warn someone, he had to tell Dumbledore, he had to tell Harry-

Rough hands grabbed his wrists. Before he could react, Lupin was whirled around and rammed into the stone floor.

"Don't worry, sir!" Someone shouted behind his back. "I got him!"

The wind was knocked out of his breath at the impact. For a second, Lupin was absolutely rigid with shock, then he thrashed out, kicking out and arching his back in an attempt to see behind him.

Wham!

The stranger's fist slammed into the side of his head, knocking it against the rough building blocks. His very brain seemed to throb as he felt something wet trickle down his forehead.

A low growl. "Don't move, wolf."

Lupin lay prostrate on the ground, breathing shallowly. Out of the corner of his eye he caught a glimpse behind him. A strongly-built man who was graying at the temples kneeled over him, pinning his arms down. Lupin didn't recognize him from anywhere before. Moody had come out of the office at his shout, was at the doorway looking down at the two. Behind the teacher, the office door had swung wide open, yet all the Polyjuice Potion ingredients disappeared from view.

Lupin mentally cursed. God, what was going on? This man should be after Moody, the impersonator, not him! Didn't he see? The teacher was the criminal!

"Are you all right, sir?" the man asked the false Moody.

Moody nodded. "Funny that I didn't see anything before," he growled. "Glad that you caught this one."

The officer didn't say anything in reply. "Tell Dumbledore that my group will be leaving Hogwarts grounds as soon as possible. This werewolf-" he glared at Lupin with disgust "- could have gotten you sacked, Moody. Ashamed that you weren't on your toes."

The poser readily agreed. "I'm going soft from this teaching job," he said earnestly. "You have my thanks, Croaker."

Croaker gave a half-sneer, half self-righteous grin. "Don't mention it."

Lupin was hauled up to his feet as Croaker made a set of handcuffs appear out of thin air. Snapping them around the Jarohnen's gaunt wrists, he asked. "Wanted to get at the Defense teacher, eh, wolf?" He didn't wait for a reply. "Well, not when I'm around."

The world tilted a bit as Lupin was hauled up to his feet and pushed down the hall. He closed his eyes - the vertigo was too much and his head ached from where he was hit. Opening them, he saw drops of blood drip onto his robes.

The psuedo-Moody escorted the two down the hall. "Better make sure you get there okay, officer."

Croaker nodded. "Why not?" he said. One hand clamped over Lupin's bound wrists while the other was over his ear as he gave out orders. "Croaker here. Suspect apprehended and we're heading to the front of the school. Have the van waiting for us. Over."

As Lupin descended the stairs to the ground floor, the initial daze wore off. This man, this Croaker was going to turn him in. But how could he have known who he was?? Lupin felt a panic flutter in his chest. If the Ministry knows... No, how could they? Maybe he didn't know who he was, because he was Jarohnen Ianikit now, not Remus Lupin....

But not for long. Twenty minutes, Lupin realized, the thought cutting through his pain. He had twenty minutes left in this disguise. Then the potion would wear off and-

He couldn't let that happen.

With a sudden burst of energy, Lupin rammed his elbow into Croaker's middle, pushing him into the fake Moody.

"Shit!" The officer gasped, letting go. Lupin ran headlong down the hall, head bowed low.

Moody shot something out of his wand. A sudden force hit him square in the back, and Lupin stumbled, but did not stop. Croaker and Moody bolted after him. "Halt, wolf!" cried the Unspeakable.

Cutting the corner, Lupin turned and raced up the nearest stairwell. Behind him he could hear their pounding footfalls... He had to hurry, had to find a way out....

His headache worsened into a pounding migraine. Lupin slipped in his running and fell. He propped himself up against the wall, panting. His wrists hurt from where the steel bit into his flesh. The blood was dripping, getting caught in the bushy white eyebrows. He blinked... he thought he was seeing spots....

Had to keep going. Had to get out of Hogwarts.

Lupin rose to his feet. The sounds of his pursuers reached his ears. He ran.

Zipping across the second floor corridor, he scanned for any possible exits. How many ways out of Hogwarts? Dozens of possibilities filled his mind, left over from his Marauder years. Through the house elf kitchens... up the South Tower and down the chimney stack... go to the Owlery behind the spare cages... to the stables third stall from the right...

He ducked into another hall. A flash of black robes and a pile of scrolls-

Crash! Lupin ran straight into the person, spilling the scrolls the wizard was carrying. Several bounced along the hallway. Others came undone and papers flew.

"What the-" The other grabbed the front of his robe. "Who are you?"

Lupin looked up disconcertingly and his eyes widened. Serverus Snape. What luck.

Snape narrowed his eyes, taking in his beat-up state.

"Werewolf on the loose!" came Croaker's cry.

"You-" Snape started, but Lupin pushed him out of the way and continued his dash down the hall. Up the stairs! Quickly!

The sound of a third pair of feet joined in. Great. Was the entire school going to be after him now??

Where was he? Another stairwell - he brushed up against a painting and smeared blood on it - the young maiden residing there screamed with Victorian grace -

The shout of voices came from behind - it was Croaker, Snape and the fake Moody, all shouting warnings -

"Look out!"

"Intruder in the halls!"

Third floor. Lupin darted into an empty classroom. He collapsed by the front board. He leaned his head against the cool slate - he didn't care if he left blood-

Had to figure a way out. Had to get out of Hogwarts.

The shouts and footfalls past the classroom he hid in. His pursuers continued their run, missing him. Thank God.

Lupin used his time wisely. Now he had the chance, he thought of a way to leave Hogwarts as quickly as possible. Where was he now? Third floor. Where was the quickest escape route on the third floor...?

Wait. Third floor was where the humpbacked witch was.... Yes, that was the only way out of Hogwarts other than with Croaker's men. Inside the statue of the humpbacked witch was a tunnel that led to Honeydukes, the candy shop in Hogsmeade. Yes, that was the way out, the only way... Hopefully, the tunnel would still be free... No one knew of it now, other than Harry, his friends... possibly Snape... damn, pray he doesn't lead Moody and Croaker there if he does....

Lupin peered out into the hallway. Empty. Good. He crossed the hall with quickened steps. The humpbacked witch, where was it? By the Arithmacy classroom.... if he recalled correctly...

The witch statue was exactly how he remembered it. The crooked-nosed stone figure became an angelic savior to him. Even though his hands were still bound behind his back, Lupin managed to get his wand out of his robe pocket. Turning so his back faced the statue, he tapped it, whispering, "Dissendium."

A grinding noise was heard behind him as the witch's hump opened up to reveal the familiar entrance. Looking over his shoulder, Lupin saw that the opening was much narrower than he remembered. Or maybe he was much thinner before, in his real body.

Lupin faced the witch's hump and jumped into the hole, wiggling about like a jellyfish until he pushed himself through. He slid down a narrow shaft of earth and fell with a dull thump! into the black tunnel. Above him, the witch's hump closed, leaving him in the dark.

Lupin first pointed to his handcuffs and with a spark of magic, unhinged them from his wrists. Then, after rubbing the circulation back into them, he ordered, "Lumos!" His wand lit up and he began crawling his way out of Hogwarts.

The pain in his head resided a bit, probably because the stress of the last few minutes had abated. He felt the gash on his forehead; luckily, it wasn't a deep cut. He could get it fixed at the Safehouse.

The journey through the tunnel was long and tedious, but he moved quickly, breaching the shortcut to Hogsmeade in half the usual time. He marveled that the space was still in relatively good working condition; he thought that it might have caved-in long ago. Many times years ago, he and his friends scampered through here on their weekly Honeydukes raid..... It was, actually, Peter's idea to break into Honeydukes, when he demanded that he should contribute something too in the making of the Marauder's Map. Grudgingly enough, Lupin gave the rat some credit for the idea of making this tunnel.

As the passage began to rise, Lupin flicked off his light. Then he came to the worn stone steps leading up to the Honeydukes cellar, he knew that he had gone far enough - past the Hogwarts protection spells and their anti-Apparating Charms.

Lupin didn't waste any time. "Apparatus!" he proclaimed, and the world dissolved and vanished.

When it reassembled again, the familiar London evening street greeted him. Up ahead, the gray, desolate Safehouse was the same as always, but he came upon it like it was a holy sanctuary. Lupin ran across the street, but then slowed down his pace to a calm walk. He reached the gate and rung the bell. Now that he was still, he realized how fast his heart was racing. His hands were shaking; he wrung them together to calm his nerves.

It was only then did Lupin notice that he hands were his own and not Jarohnen's aged ones. Further observation proved that the Polyjuice Potion must have worn off during his trek through the tunnel.

But he was back home. He was safe. The officers couldn't track him down. God... that was a close one. A faint chuckle escaped. A damn close one...

The front door opened and Claire came to the gate. Lupin tucked his wand back into his robe pocket and straightened his clothes out the best he could. As she came to open the gate, Claire didn't speak a word to him, but a quiet expression flickered across her face. The two went inside and she sat him at the kitchen table.

Finally, she spoke. "You're 'urt," she stated.

Lupin put a hand to the cut on his forehead, brushing against the fragile scab that had formed over the wound. He could only nod in acknowledgment. His hands were still shaking and he hid them under the table.

"I had a bit of a difficult time getting back," he said.

"Your robes are a mess," Claire continued. She brushed her hand against his shoulder and a smudge of dirt came off onto her palm. "It must 'ave been some difficult time." She went over to the sink and prepared a soapy dishcloth. Bringing it over, she instructed, "Turn your face toward ze light." He did and she dabbed it against his face with an outstretched arm.

The wound stung on contact and Lupin flinched. Claire put a hand to his cheek. "Shhh," she hushed with motherly instinct and finished wiping the area. Then, with precise, careful strokes, she wiped the dirt from his face. Her fingers lingered along his cheekbone and Lupin raised his eyes to meet her stare.

That wisp of hair was over her eyes again. Slowly, his hand reached up. His fingers carefully took hold of the loose lock and tucked it behind her ear. Claire stared at him, completely frozen at this boldness. Lupin moved his hand and gently placed it on top of hers.

"Back already, comrade?"

The two recoiled from each other as Jarohnen entered. "You look like hell," he commented, pulling up a seat at the table. He glanced at them with a raised eyebrow.

"I've been through a bit of that," he hastily answered, discreetly pushing his chair back to create more space between Claire and him.

She herself took a step back as well, grabbing the cloth from the kitchen table. "I'll get ze First Aid kit," she said in a sudden business-like tone.

"That would be great," Lupin replied cordially.

Jarohnen watched Claire leave the room, her head bowed. "So," he said, turning back to him, "did any of the wizard children die yet?"

"The Tournament actually went quite well," Lupin informed him, feeling a need to defend it. "It was quite impressive how the students handled the task. They were up against dragons."

"Looks like ya fought a couple dragons yaself." Jarohnen said, taking note of Lupin's appearance.

"The security was tighter than I expected," was all he said in reply. "Where's Mary?"

"In the living room. Antonia was fussin' with her hair. Sayin' how she always wanted to be yellow-haired or somethin'," Jarohnen rolled his eyes. "Comrade Garrett Walters stopped by a couple hours ago. Ya met him?"

"Somewhat," Lupin drawled, recalling the man who smuggled him into the Tournament.

By then, Claire came back with some antiseptic and bandages. "Just put this on and you'll be fine," she instructed, handing him the tube.

While he covered the wound himself, Claire was busily brushing the excess dirt and the back of his robes. From behind, she sudden burst out in a spasm of coughing.

"Are y'all right?" Jarohnen asked as she put a closed fist to her mouth.

"Yes, zair's just zis strange dust 'ere..." she replied, waving a hand in front of her face. "Didn't see it ze first time, but, Remus, you're covered in it."

"I am?" Lupin brushed his hands across the front of his robes and a shower of blue sparkles bellowed out from underneath his touch. "I had no idea..." he started.

"Let me take a look," Jarohnen interrupted, getting up. As he put a hand to Lupin's sleeve, a startled expression came across his face. He shook his head. "Can't be..."

"Can't be what?" Lupin asked.

Jarohnen pinched a bit of the blue dust between his thumb and forefinger. "Did any of the wizards spell-blast ya with anythin'?" he questioned.

"Well, no," Lupin backtracked his thoughts. "Mad-Eyed Moody-" he started.

"Who?" Jarohnen stiffened.

"One of the security wizards," he quickly amended. "What is it?"

The Ianikit gruffly cleared his throat. "Tracking dust," he whispered. "Hits the clothing ya have and then the wizard can track ya to hell and back, no problem. T'was Mad-Eyed Moody's concoction, a common police force spell now..." He pursed his lips together, but refrained from commenting more about the retired Auror. "Take it off," he said abruptly.

"What?"

"Hand the damn robe to me!"

Lupin did, leaving him in his Muggle clothes. Jarohnen quickly pulled the cloth over his head. "They thought it was me still right?" he was saying. "When ya left? They didn't see ya otherwise?"

"Yes, but-" A mistake suddenly dawned on Lupin. "I-I took a shortcut out of Hogwarts!" he said urgently. "A tunnel that lead to Hogsmeade.... I Apparated from there.... Hardly anyone knew about the path I took, not even Dumbledore...."

"So?" Claire asked, staring at the two with a worried look in her eyes.

"I think Snape knew about it. He caught Harry using it last year. Well, I ran into him upon my departure. He teaches Potions at Hogwarts," he added hurriedly, trying to make himself more coherent to the werewolves. "Snape knows that the only people outside of Hogwarts who knew of this passageway were me and Sirius Black. Yet he knows that Black is in jail so the only one who could be sneaking into Hogwarts would be me. He could have told-"

Buzzzzzz!!

All three jumped at the noise. Enemies at the gate. Lupin turned his head toward the foyer as Jarohnen said to him, "Come with me! And get the girl!"

Jarohnen left for the staircase upstairs and both Lupin and Madame rushed into the common room. The Freedom Hounds lounged around, ignorant of the current events.

"Welcome back, Remus," Ulysses greeted. "How was the Tournament?"

Lupin didn't reply. Instead, Claire announced, "Ulysses, Zeo, I must speak wiz you."

They looked up, alarmed at the two's urgent air.

"What's wrong?" Theo asked, putting down a half-whittled block of wood. Claire just jerked her head to the door and the three left the room.

Antonia refrained from her task, which was braiding ribbons into the girl's hair. Mary's face lit up when Lupin walked in and she ran to him, throwing her arms around his waist, the green and blue strands trailing from her hair. "You're back!"

"Didn't I say it wouldn't take long?" Lupin gathered the girl in his arms and lifted her up, feeling the need to have her closer. She was small for her age, and felt like nothing in his hold. "We'll have to leave now," he told her.

Mary's happiness became muted as her expression changed. "What do you mean?" she asked.

"I'll explain later," Lupin said headed to their room. Behind them, Claire was calling to the other Freedom Hounds as well, talking in a hushed whisper.

Buuuzzzzzzz! echoed the bell from the front gate.

Lupin lowered Mary down onto the bed, then drew out his battered briefcase from underneath. He opened it up and quickly began throwing in various belonging that lay around the room.

"Why are we going?" Mary questioned again, as she watched him pack.

Lupin tossed in several of Mary's small robes from the closet, followed by his Bible that lay on the bedside table. "Just another trip," he said in a distracted voice. "Nothing to worry over."

Buuuzzzzz!

Mary crawled over to check out the window. "Remmy, it looks like there are police cars outside," she said in a surprised voice.

"Yes, I know, Mary."

"Why have the police come?"

"Please don't hinder me. We have to go quickly."

"Are they after us?"

"Mary..." he said through gritted teeth. The expansion spell on the briefcase was wearing thin; the sides were bulging as he tried to snap it shut.

"Are we the bad guys then?"

Lupin bored his weight upon the suitcase. One quick push and the case locked with a satisfying snap! "There!" he said, ignoring her question. "Now off we go." He grabbed her hand and led her away from the window.

"But the coppers are after us?" she was saying bewilderedly. "We're gonna go to jail, Remmy; we're gonna get arrested!"

Somehow, a harsh laugh came out in reply. "I don't intend for that to happen."

He met up with Harriet in the hallway. "Claire called up a cab and sent it to Cloudesley Square. That's just a couple blocks from here, not too far..."

Lupin gave her a curt nod in acknowledgment. "Where's Jarohnen?" he asked.

"Back room upstairs," Harriet replied. She grabbed Lupin's arm before he turned away.

"Just see Madame first, will you?" she said in a low voice. "You gotta see her."

"Take Mary to him then."

Harriet nodded as she took her hand. "Don't be too long."

"I won't," he said.

Mary looked like she was about to suffer from pure panic, yet Harriet said assuredly, "Chin up. Remus just needs a word with Claire, dearie, then you're going."

Lupin found Claire in her office, pacing. A thick wad of pound notes was in her clenched fists, folded neatly and secured by thick rubber bands. Claire shoved the money into his hands. "Take it," she ordered.

"Claire, I can't." In reflex, Lupin tried handing it back to her, but she backed off.

"You'll need it," she said tersely. "Use it to get a Muggle way out; you can't Apparate out of ze country. Don't know ze airline prices, but maybe you could get onto a plane out of 'ere at Gatwick. London City only has flights to ze continent...."

Lupin flipped through the stack. His eyes widened at the amount. seven, eight hundred, maybe more. "Where did you get this?" he inquired.

"... You can't stay in Europe; ze Ministry 'as close contact to all ze continental governments from 'ere to Vienna; zey could still get you. Try America - you know as well as I do 'ow rocky ze relations are between ze Ministry and ze American MGA..."

"I can't take your money," he said.

She stopped. "Don't question me," she snapped suddenly. "You and Mary are going."

"We could take the Chunnel to France, escape through there..."

"You can't!" Claire nearly exploded in his face. "If you do, ze French wizards will be zair to meet you on ze ozzar side! Now shut up and listen to me!"

Lupin was stuck dumb. Madame de Chien-Loup groaned and put a hand to her forehead. "Zeo's out zair, holding zem off. I can't keep you 'ere forever," she said bitterly.

"Fine," he said, giving in. "Where did you want me to go?"

"Ze Gatwick's almost an 'our away," she answered firmly. "But it's better zan taking your chances at London City. Book a flight to America; zey can do last-minutes, but you 'ave to pay more." She ran a hand through her hair; her regular braid was becoming undone. "You and Mary can take an all-night flight out of England. But whatever you do..." She paused slightly. "You can't come back." Her voice became tight at the last point. Her eyes darted over to her desk.

Lupin was stunned. "Please, if I ..."

"Ze Registry is surely going to contact ze ozzar continental governments about all zis," she said in a quiet voice. "Ze others would probably want my program to be shut down in zair countries as well..." Lupin thought he saw her eyes tear up, but Claire turned him around and was pushing him out of the room.

"Claire-" he stuttered, trying to have a final say.

"Don't speak," she ended. "Just go."

The office door was shut in his face before he could put in another word. Lupin cast his eyes down at the folded wad of money in his hand and put it in his jacket pocket. "Well, goodbye," he said softly to the closed door. He wanted to add something like, "I'll never forget your kindness," but couldn't get the words past his lips. It sounded too out of place anyway.... Finally, he swiftly turned away and headed back upstairs.

In the back room, Jarohnen had a power drill in his hands and was rapidly unscrewing the final outdoor screen to the rear window, which was much larger than all the other ones in the Safehouse. Sitting on the floor, Mary was trying to untangle the rope ladder.

"Only window that's unbarred," he said over his shoulder. "Claire put this 'un to appeal to the buildin's fire code. Get the ladder."

"Of course. Are you feeling all right, Mary?" he asked.

She gave a faint nod. "The coppers aren't gonna get us?" she whispered.

"Never."

Jarohnen gave a small cry as the last screw was undone. He took the sides of the glass in his hands and quickly removed the glass from the window, leaving open air. Lupin handed him the ladder and the Russian lowered it down to the ground.

"They're in. It's the MLES."

Lupin glanced behind his shoulder to see Ulysses in the doorway.

"Magical Law Enforcement Squad?" Jarohnen frowned. "Why not the Werewolf Capture Unit?"

"Is Claire talking to them?" Lupin asked.

Ulysses looked grim. "I don't know what the hell Claire is doin' right now."

Jarohnen tossed Ulysses the power drill. "Seal the window up as soon as we leave," he instructed. Then he addressed Lupin and Mary. "I'll go down first, then ya, then Mary. We'll hightail it in different directions; I'll steer 'em off toward the south end of town." He boosted himself up to the window ledge. "That cab of yas won't be waitin' long."

Lupin could only nod mutely. He couldn't think of a sufficient farewell, not in this rush. Jarohnen, however, did it for him.

"Been a privilege to know ya both," he said. "If we ever meet again, Comrade Remus, may it be in a better place."

He then spoke to Ulysses again. "Watch out for Claire." He hauled another leg out of the window and began his descent. He lifted his head up over the ledge to call out one last order, as if an afterthought. "And if I don't come back," he added, "I give ya my violin."

His head disappeared under the windowsill. It was now Lupin's turn. He sat on the sill for a moment, and gave Ulysses a farewell gesture.

"May the road rise up beneath you," the Freedom Hound whispered.

By the time he swung over the edge, Jarohnen's stooped form, still wearing Lupin's dirty robes, was already turning the corner. Lupin came down the ladder as quickly as he could, then, signaled for Mary to come down as well as soon as he touched ground. Ulysses then threw down his briefcase; it landed in a snow bank by the side of the building.

For a moment, he and Mary stood outside the Safehouse, taking one last look. Something was becoming lost to them at that moment, never to be found again. Yet it was no time to be caught up with sentiment. Within a few minutes, the two were running down the snowy evening streets toward Cloudesley Square.

Chapter 26

Claire sat with her back against the shut door, her knees raised up to her chin. In her hand was a rumpled, soggy tissue, and her eyes were still rimmed in red. Why waste herself in tears now? How was that going to help things? She mentally cursed herself for her pathetic lapse of weakness. She had cried twice this past week; what was coming over her lately?

Remus Lupin- that was it. Everything in her life was smooth sailing before he came. He and the dear child, standing at the gate.... She could remember that morning like it happened the day before. Mary looking up at her, clutching Lupin's hand... Claire knew that she intimidated her. Childish fear was almost amusing. Endearing, actually. How helpless and so young she looked, having no one to cling to but this wizarding werewolf.

And this werewolf. Lupin's glare was what put up her guard. Her initial reaction was that he was a danger. Lupin knew in the back of his mind that he shouldn't have come. And so did Claire. But those eyes, how he challenged her entire decade-old program with that stare. An expression stating that he would not be refused.

For the first time in a long time, Claire felt her authority being threatened. Here was one person - a wizard - daring her to accept him and his pup. And she did.

No matter how hard she tried, it was a decision she could not regret. Except maybe now.

Now, when the MLES officers stood outside. Claire had caught a look at them from the kitchen window beforehand, when Theo was talking to them, trying to stall for time. They were different from the Registry officers. The RMC came across to her as stone-faced machinery. The Hit Wizards waiting for Lupin were worse. They had a murderous look about them. These officers hadn't come to toy with the werewolves with cold detachment like the RMC; they came with a clear, defined mission. They came to capture a fugitive, whether it Lupin or any other werewolf. They came to bring a criminal to justice. They were the law. And strangely enough, this law - wizard law - frightened her more than the RMC.

Claire wondered what she regretted more that moment. Losing her livelihood or losing her small family.

She allowed herself one more tear before getting up. She threw the used tissue into the wastebasket with grim determination. No time to act like a fool. The MLES were waiting for her. She couldn't remain in her office blubbering like a pup.

In a situation like this, Claire reasoned that she had three choices. One: cooperate with the MLES, and get Lupin captured and Mary killed. Two: defy them and probably endanger the lives of her tenants and friends, and immediately ruin the reputation of her Safehouses and the other wolves who run them. The final option was a mix of both choices. It involved magic and deception: the two things she struggled with. Well, more so the former than the latter.

On her desk were two things that Lupin didn't take notice of when he was in the room: a slip of paper and a steaming mug. The paper contained a brief message, signed with her own hand, "Cooperate with the officers. Tell them the truth as you know it. Don't worry, you have not been harmed." Claire only hoped that she would be willing to obey herself after taking the potion.

She smiled weakly, thinking of what Lupin's reaction would be to the mug's contents. If only he noticed! Making a Forget Potion? A werewolf practicing magic?

Well, she had given him hints before, hadn't she? She had access to the ingredients through the Internet. She had the proper spell books; he himself had used them. She had knowledge of the spells he talked about, like the Polyjuice Potion. But of course Lupin probably never thought along those lines. And why would he at this time? Claire wondered if he did get her hints, if they didn't need to worry about the law, would have he....

She brushed the thought from her mind. Lupin would never teach her magic. Once, when she was much younger, and Jarohnen had been living at the Safehouse all year round, she had been caught up in the Russian's frenzied magic-for-all campaign, but no more. She knew a little from reading the books, but would probably never reach the level of even a Hogwarts student. Maybe, she supposed, it was better this way.

She didn't even know if she performed the magic correctly. Who knows; maybe she fouled it up somehow. What if she took a sip and died from it? Or what if she didn't end up forgetting, but enforcing her memories? Or what if nothing happened at all? But now wasn't the time to ponder these questions.

And if this spell worked... Claire bit her lip. She had to do this. After all, she was never going to see them again...

And with that, she wrapped both hands around the mug. Breathing in the bittersweet steam of the liquid, she whispered the incantation. "Memoria ex oblivio Remus Lupin et Mary Grisham..."

***

The taxi was backing away from the curb when Lupin and Mary arrived. "Hey! Hold up!" Lupin called, waving a hand.

The driver backed up and the front window pulled down. A loud pop music beat blared out, accompanied by the undulating voice of an Indian singer. "You here to catch a ride?" yelled the dark-skinned Pakistani.

"Yes!"

"What?"

"I said yes!"

"All righty then, get in."

Lupin opened the door and ushered Mary onto the stained back seat. Wafts of heavy incense and chewing tobacco came to his nose; he coughed and tried not to breath to deeply. Slipping into the back seat, Lupin asked, "How long will it take to get to Gatwick?"

"Hmmm... hour, hour 'n' half..." Somehow, the driver's voice was just loud enough to be heard over the radio.

Pulling out five wrinkled twenty-pound notes from his stash, he handed it to the driver. "Take this," he said.

The driver waved the hand away. "No pay now, sir."

"Just take it!" He thrust the money through the window of smudgy plastic divider. "And if you get there within thirty minutes, you'll get a hundred more."

Now he seemed to understand. The driver quickly snatched up the bills. "Yes sir!" he agreed, and the taxi lurched forward, jerking around the corner and onto Liverpool Road.

The unfortunate passengers tumbled forward at the first swerve. Lupin clutched at the back of the driver's seat, trying to regain his balance. "Umm... Mary, you might want to put on one of those seat buckles..."

Mary obediently snapped a shoulder belt across her chest. She remembered her father making a comment about London cabbies, associating it with why he always took the bus.

The taxi swerved again, darting between the cars on the street. One flying whoosh- they narrowly missed an oncoming truck. A rubber-burning screechhhhh - two inches from sideswiping a minivan.

Lupin began to regret making that offer. "Um, are you sure we're driving safely?" he asked.

The driver didn't answer. He crouched low in his seat, humming to the foreign music as he kept his eyes on the road. Occasionally he whipped the steering wheel around full circle, while pressing down on the pedals. Lupin wondered if that was the proper way to drive.

He tried again. "Can you go slower?"

Honkkkkkkkk! An angry driver made an obscene gesture at them as the taxi soared past.

"What you say, sir?" the driver asked nonchalantly.

"Can you go slower??"

"What?"

"Slower!"

"We go fast?"

"SLOWER!"

"Ah...." The Pakistani nodded knowingly. "Okay sir." With that, he rammed his foot down on the gas. Lupin grabbed hold of Mary and latched onto his seat for dear life.

As the taxi bumped and jolted through the crowded London streets, Mary posed an innocent question. "Where are we going, Remmy?"

"To Gatwick International Airport."

She nodded. Carefully, she wormed her way from Lupin's hold. The taxi didn't smell very good; it made her feel sick. And if she was sick, she didn't want to get be sick on him.

To Gatwick International Airport. This had to be the truth this time.

They were going flying now. They had to, because they had to get away from the police very fast. But why couldn't he use his magic to take them away? Mary wasn't sure.

She remained unsure about a lot of things concerning Remmy. It was an uncomfortable realization, but one thing was that he lied to her a lot about the important things. Like about the fact he was a magician, or that he was the wolf who bit her. Or about why the RMC were after them. She never knew the RMC were the same as the police. Why didn't Remmy tell her the truth?

Now that she thought about it, how many times had he lied to her, saying that it was for her own good? Many times. Mary felt a bit betrayed that Remmy so often kept her in the dark. But she trusted him. He had to know what was best for them; he had known always before. This truth became as level to her as why she should always drink her milk or go to bed early - it was for her own good. So running away from the police was for her own good. After all, the police were bad people to them; they were the good guys. Remmy taught her that logic.

Yet she wondered whether that was the real truth to things or not. What would Mama say about Remmy's words? Or Papa? She knew with a guilty feeling that they had never lied to her. Papa in particular, had always told her the truth about things, and so did Mama. Like with the lady in the church. Looking back, Mary realized that they could have lied to her about her death, yet instead they told the truth. They trusted her enough to let her understand....

Mary realized that this was the first time in many weeks that she even thought about her parents this much. She suddenly felt embarrassed by this, but pushed the feeling back. Her parents were far, far away now anyway. They were at home.... Don't think about them. She didn't belong with them now. She had to stay here and help Remmy.

She sniffed and wiped her nose on her sleeve. The yucky taxi smell must be getting to her. She wished she was back at the Safehouse, with Madame de Chien-Loup and all those other nice werewolves. Or back at home, in Havenshire....

Stop thinking about home! She couldn't go home, remember that!

Anyway, she had Remmy.... He had taken care of her all this time; he said he would always be here; he promised he wouldn't leave her alone...

Sitting in Mama's lap, letting her comb out her hair with gentle strokes-

Stop it.

Papa's hand in hers, a secure safety line, as she rode a carnival pony for the first time-

Don't think about it.

Mama's bedtime voice, as she read her stories-

Papa's smile, the way he carried her up on his shoulders-

Mama's laugh, tinkling like silver bells-

Papa's eyes, how they sparkled when he was happy-

Don't think about it!

"Mary?" Lupin looked over at her with concern. The girl was curled up in the corner of the back seat, facing the window. "Mary, are you crying?"

"No." Mary quickly wiped her eyes. Don't think about it, don't act like a baby!

Lupin put a hand on her shoulder. "Don't worry," he reassured her in a soft voice. "I have everything taken care of."

No, you don't, you liar, Mary thought, but said nothing. She bit her lower lip, trying to force all the anger out. She shouldn't be mad at him. Remmy was her friend, and he never got mad at her. But Mary couldn't help feeling this way; she came to help him and all he did was lie! It wasn't fair!

The memory of the stolen train ride to London. Remmy's own words, echoing back in her mind. "Rules... only aim to create fairness for everyone. Yet the world isn't like that. I learned, actually, that life isn't quite fair at all.... People like to hear about fairness and justice, but it's all a lie..."

"Please tell me why you're crying," Lupin was asking her. He put a hand on her small shoulder. Mary turned away. Remmy looked like he was about to cry as well. She hurt him, didn't she? Acting like a baby.... She must be such a disappointment! Oh, she didn't mean to be this way!

I'm sorry, Mary thought, her world now just a jumble of confusion. I'm sorry I'm acting like a baby. I'm not brave all the time, Remmy, like you! I can't lie or steal or play pretend with strangers. I can't act the way you want me to! I can't be good the way you are.... But Mary only shook her head resolutely, letting the tears flow freely down her cheeks.

***

Lupin watched Mary cry, feeling absolutely helpless. He made her cry like this, scaring her so much. He shouldn't have done that. Oh, why couldn't have he made up another story; why didn't he attribute it to another one of their "pretend games?" She shouldn't know the truth about these things; she was too young!

He looked for a tissue, a stray napkin, anything to wipe her tears with. He had some Kleenex in his pocket, he remembered and took some out. "I know you're scared right now," he said calmly. "But remember the promise I made?"

Mary only sniffed softly. She took the tissue gratefully and blew her nose.

"I'm here for you," Lupin said. "And I won't let anyone hurt you. Remember that."

She buried her small head against his side. "I'm sorry," she mumbled under her breath.

"Sorry?"

"I haven't been a good girl," she blubbered. "If I had, then maybe the police wouldn't be after us..."

"Shhh..." He stroked her hair. "Don't think that," he told her. "It was my fault that this all happened..."

"You're lying," she whispered.

His answer came out strained. "What do you mean?"

"You say that all the time," she said, wiping her eyes. "But you don't mean it that way. You only say it to make me feel better."

"Do you really think that?"

She only sniffed and wiped her nose with a tissue.

"Listen to me." Lupin put a hand to her chin and lifted her head up. "Look at me, Mary. I'm going to tell the truth this time." He felt bitter to state himself this way. He never knew that she felt like this about him. That she couldn't trust him. Mary looked up at him expectantly.

"It's true that I haven't told you some things in the past," he said. "But it's not because I'm not fond of you, or don't trust you. It's just that I believe that... It is proper for certain things to be told only at certain times... Do you understand what I mean?"

No reply.

"Well, for instance," he continued quickly, "I can't tell the RMC that you're with me now, because then they would try to hurt you. Maybe.... maybe sometime later, when the RMC and I come to an understanding, can I tell them that you're here." Okay, one white lie there.... Lupin hurried on. "And before, I always told you the truth when you needed it. I never actually lied to you. I only waited for the right time to tell you. Remember our agreement? We're here to help each other."

Mary gave an unreadable sigh, but her tears had stopped.

"You have to learn to trust me, Mary. There are very few people we can trust. But we're here to help each other. Okay?"

Silence. She was staring out the window, but he could tell she was still listening.

"You're just a bit scared right now. Frankly, I'm scared too. But we'll get out of this." Lupin realized he was staring at her and shifted his gaze away. Finding nothing else he could say, Lupin slouched in his seat and shoved his hands into his jacket pockets.

Wait a moment. Lupin straightened up in his seat. He then turned his pockets inside out and put his hand to his jean pockets. Feeling nothing, his heart jumped. Couldn't be. Lupin turned his pockets inside out, then slowly let his eye roam the small cabin. Had it rolled under the seat? Hidden in the small cracks of the vinyl cushioning? Did he drop it outside in Cloudesley Square? Lupin contemplated carefully, backtracking his steps. He was sure he had it when he got back to the Safehouse, but when he left...

Mary noticed Lupin shifting his weight around in his seat uncomfortably. She looked out of the corner of her eye to see him discreetly checking his pockets, the back seat. He then paused in thought again.

"What are you looking for?" she said.

"Nothing, Mary," he replied calmly. But he had to acknowledge the fact: his wand was gone.

***

Jarohnen Ianikit silently made his way through Chapel Market. In the day the place was alive and bursting with Muggles, shopping from the small stalls and vendors that lined the street. As night fell, however, everything was locked down and packed away, leaving a deserted avenue, highlighted as the light of street lamps reflected off the sheet metal covers of the closed stalls. Slipping past those said closed-up stands, Jarohnen paced himself cautiously. He had a taxi waiting for him on White Lion Street, but Claire had specifically told the driver to wait twenty minutes. He didn't have to rush; not to say that he couldn't if he needed to.

Behind him, a faint sparkling trail of blue dust hovered in his wake. He turned around to catch it vanishing into the frigid winter air. Yet with the right spell, the trail would light up like a line of fireflies, leading straight to him. He looked down at the robes his wore in bitter distaste. Jarohnen had never worn wizard robes a single day in his life; this disgusted him. The thick dust that billowed around him worsened this feeling. Damn this dust...

He stopped by a sealed-up cart and ripped the dirty robes off. A small shadow in his back of his mind hinted about his first encounter with tracking dust: little more than fifty years ago in the streets of St. Petersburg. How else could his family have been hunted down so quickly?

Jarohnen held the robes at arms length and hurried his stride. He just wanted to be rid of them now.

A small item hit the asphalt, falling into the slushy snow. Jarohnen stooped down to pick it up. What was this? Holding it up to the dull streetlight, his eyes suddenly went wide with recognition. He then shoved the item hastily into his trench coat pocket.

Arriving at White Lion Street, Jarohnen tapped the window of the waiting cab. When the driver scrolled it down, he said quickly, "I need ya to do me a quick favor."

"What do you mean?" came the suspicious reply.

Jarohnen held up a handful of money. "Ya'll be greatly rewarded," he said.

At one hundred pounds, the driver quickly agreed to listen. An exchange was made. Another hundred, and the driver decided to drive down to the Thames and dump an anonymous pile of clothing into it. Three hundred enabled him to keep quiet about this strange errand.

A few minutes later, the cab abruptly backed up and started speeding down the street. Jarohnen watched the vehicle leave. The MLES would catch up to it with ten minutes, surely, but they wouldn't harm the cabbie once they find out he was only a Muggle. They'd probably erase his memory of the event, but no lasting harm. A win-win situation for everyone. Putting a hand to his pocket, he stroked the smooth wood of Remus Lupin's wand. Definitely a win-win situation. Jarohnen felt a deserved satisfaction well up in his chest and continued down the street.

He wasn't actually going to keep Comrade Remus' wand; no, no, he couldn't steal from a fellow wolf. Jarohnen would just hold onto it for the time being. After all, since Comrade Remus and the girl are both on the run, it may be a long while until he met up with them again. A very long while in fact. Jarohnen idly counted the possible amount of time in his head. Weeks, months, maybe not even until next winter...

He didn't mind the wait.

With this thought on his mind, he began to whistle to himself. Whistling came easily to him, especially since he lacked his front teeth.

But where to go now? Of course Jarohnen wasn't returning to the Safehouse; he would be a danger to Comrade Claire and the Hounds there. Maybe he should use the rest of the money she gave him to head out of town. Or he could follow the usual hobo tracks down to Brighton. Brighton was a resort town currently in off-season, a nice place for a wolf.

It was not until Jarohnen came onto Upper Street did he notice the MLES patrol car behind him. He gave it a mild glance and continued his way. They must have caught the cabbie sooner than he thought. Well, no matter. He smacked his lips together. With the wand at close hand, he anticipated the thought of officers following him.

The car stopped on the road in front of him. The window rolled down.

"Jarohnen Ianikit?"

"Good evening officers." Jarohnen actually smiled. "Nice night for a drive, eh?"

The side door opened and the wizard stepped out. He had a different presence than an RMC; instead of arrogant superiority, he radiated ultimate authority. "You're coming with us, wolf."

"Really?" Jarohnen made a mock face of surprise. "And why would I?"

"For questioning." The MLES officer listed the charges in a polite but cold voice. "On counts of trespassing on Hogwarts school grounds, attempted assault with intent of bodily harm, resisting arrest, and assaulting an officer."

Comrade Remus was certainly busily, Jarohnen thought.

"What if I don't want to be comin' with ya?" he asked lightly.

"Then we will have no choice but to resort to force."

Jarohnen made a face at them. "I'm game."

The officer tried to be polite about this situation. Jarohnen was amazed at his consideration. "At this moment, we have you surrounded."

He was right. Jarohnen checked behind him. Ah, so another patrol car was parked on the corner of Liverpool and Tulpuddle. Those wizards had left their vehicle as well; he was boxed in it seemed. Clever thinking, these wizards.

Jarohnen backed up a few steps. His hand went to his pocket. "Come and catch me," he dared and turned around. He stopped short. Three officers behind him, wands raised. Oh, so play it that way, eh? Jarohnen smiled broadened. This time, he was on a level playing field.

Snap!

The cables whipped around him, but Jarohnen kept his balance. He stared at the officer who approached him.

"You have the right to remain silent-" He grabbed him by the shoulder.

"I refuse that right." Jarohnen's free hand grabbed at the man's wand arm, which was down by his side and easy to hold. His other jerked from his pocket, Lupin's wand aiming at the highest height it could with his upper arms bound. "Don't make a move," Jarohnen growled. "Or ya'll be pissin' into a bag for the rest of ya life."

The officer froze. The others stepped forward, but their leader commanded in a tense voice, "Put down your wands!"

"Good choice," Jarohnen hissed. "Now free me, officer." He still had a grip on the officer's wand arm. "If you try anythin' nasty," he said, "I'll make sure to leave a mark myself." He tapped Lupin's wand against the officer's groin in emphasis.

The officer scowled and flicked his wand. The cables snapped back into non-existence.

Jarohnen acted quickly. "Expelliarmus!"

Soon, he had the upper hand. In minutes, all his pursers were unarmed and standing in the street, including the driver of the first MLES vehicle. Jarohnen stuffed their wands into his coat, gleeful as a child with a handful of candy. "Now, let's see what experience has taught me," he said. Another wave of Lupin's wand - five men and women fell to the ground, bound and gagged. "Not bad," he chuckled. "Not bad at all."

He walked out into the snowy street and addressed the officers in a low voice. "Learned a bit after years of watchin' the RMC," he said. "Nice to know my memory is still sharp."

He circled them, eyeing them like a hunter would examine his quarry. "My clan imitated Muggles," he began. "We lived like 'em. We did business like 'em. We did politics like 'em." He came to one of the officers and kicked up the dirt-tracked slush in his face. "We had no friends in the magic world 'cause of that."

He crouched down low, so that he saw face-to-face with them. "Let me give ya some history to chew on," he growled. "I'll make ya regret everythin' ya did to us."

"If ya know ya Muggle history - and I sincerely believe ya don't." He rose to his feet to give another sharp kick at one of them; it didn't matter which, he couldn't tell. "My motherland was under Soviet rule durin' the threat of Grindelwald. A Muggle - the great Joseph Stalin - was in power. He had a secret police force to maintain his authority." He highlighted his lesson with several swift kicks and blows wherever he saw fit. After all, the Muggle police never come to this area; here was the center of the London slums.

"Muggles now know it as the KGB, Committee of State Security; Cheka was our code name. The Cheka was the greatest force in the nation. It was everywhere ya looked: in the streets, in the country, in the homes. Members of the Cheka knew all and controlled all. Comrade Lavrenti Beria was its leader. And I was one of his top lieutenants." Jarohnen grinned. "I brought power and wealth to my clan. We lived like royalty while the Muggle peasants starved in the streets. Speak the name Ianikit and people trembled. Praise the name Ianikit and ya were praising a family second only to Lenin and God."

His captives could only listen with mute obedience. One was already knocked out cold; her blood stained the snow dark red.

"But we were good wolves," he went on, his tone growing darker. "We hated Grindelwald; his cruelty, his viciousness, his greed. We wanted to help ya. Yet in the end, ya let all of us die. The Ministry betrayed us." He sat down in the snow next to the first man, the one who initially addressed him. "In the days after, the papers were filled with details of this attack on our clan house. My brother's family and I made it to Kronstadt by then. Yet the others were dead. Do ya want to me to tell ya how I knew?" He grabbed the man's uniform collar and shook him when he didn't answer. "Ya want to know??"

A limp nod of the head. Jarohnen let go and the man dropped back onto the ground.

"I read how my family died in the goddamn newspaper! Plastered around in the Daily Prophet like some cheap advertising. Like a fuckin' thrill novel..." His voice dropped dangerously soft. "My wife was ya spy," he whispered. "Do ya want to see how she died?"

The officer looked up at him through his one good eye; the other already swollen shut. This man was young, as was all of them; too young to have even remembered Grindelwald anywhere other than in a textbook. He managed to speak through a garbled voice. "You're insane."

The Ianikit laughed. "Not insane," he said softly. "Just vengeful."

He got up to his feet, calmly brushed the snow off his worn slacks, and backed away, leveling his wand arm at the beaten group. "May your souls burn in hell," he ended solemnly. A final sweep of his arm. "Crucio!"

Wild screams of pain echoed off into the night air.

Chapter 27

The plane tickets were too expensive. £ 377 for a one way to Boston, £ 436 to New York, £ 354 to Raleigh. Not including tax. And those were the only flights to America. Flying into Europe... Lupin wasn't sure if he could risk it. First off, he didn't know where to forge a passport for Mary; the street prices were £ 1,000 at the lowest. Second, it had been over a month since that full moon in Havenshire.... a month is a long time. Enough time to have all the continental countries on high alert, and would take only a few minutes to assemble a police force anywhere. Who knows; probably the Registry already put him on international fugitive status. For some reason, Lupin found this slightly amusing. Sirius had international fugitive status; it was odd to think he was on par with him on that level.

That was why he and Mary were standing outside a small alley-way shop outside of Gatwick. Night had fallen by this time. The alley was dark and piled with snow, and the store was filled with light and warmth. Its front boasted a glass display window lined with iron bars. Within, several hunting rifles were displayed. A small wooden sign announced to the world what type of store it was: Humprey's Hunting and Fishing. It was pure luck that Lupin found it; it would be anyone's luck to be able to stumble upon this small place. "You're sure that you don't want to come inside?" Lupin asked Mary.

He could tell that Mary didn't like this shop. She leaned her back against the opposite brick wall of a neighboring building. "Yes," she said. He could see her breath when she said it. It was getting cold out tonight.

"Here," Lupin took off his jacket and wrapped it around Mary's shoulders. "I'll be back soon." With that, he stepped into the shop alone.

When the door opened, a little bell rung, signaling his coming. Yet the store was small; the back counter barely four yards away. A young-old man stood behind it and looked up from his magazine. "Welcome," he greeted warmly. "How may I be of service?"

Lupin was to the point. "I know this place specializes in rifles and such, but I wanted to know whether you had knowledge of any other types of firearms?"

"Well, I just might." The man put his elbows on top of the glass countertop. Lupin presented his gun.

"Hmmm... this looks a bit old..." The man picked it up, and went over the smooth steel with dainty fingers as he examined it. "Colt 45LC. Type, revolver. Grip, cowboy. Good condition." The held the weapon at different angles, squinting one eye as he checked the sight. "Nicely balanced. Sight, fixed... When did you last use this?"

"Not for a couple years," Lupin replied coolly. "Used to go target practicing, but dropped the hobby for awhile. Wanted to pick it back up again so..."

"Ah." The man nodded knowingly. "Well, do you see this bit of rust here?" He pointed to a reddish patches around the trigger. "Could be a bit weak on the inside, I dunno. And the grip is old... this was made before safety locks were required, correct?"

"Bought it in 1978. Used."

"Okay, pal." The shopkeeper put the weapon down, satisfied. "Well, I just want to let you that she looks pretty old. She might give a sharp recoil upon first firing. And with the grip you use here..." He gestured to the humped curve of the handle. "If you're holding her the wrong way while shooting, you could hurt your wrist pretty badly. But I expect that you wouldn't have a problem like that, if you're familiar with her."

Lupin acknowledged this. Since he had never fired the weapon before, it would be a good thing to keep in mind.

"Do you think you have any ammunition for this?"

"I'll check the back room." The man got up from his stool and left for a few moments. Lupin examined the utility knives displayed behind the glass while he was gone. Should he get one of those too? No, the ammunition was enough.

He knew that Jarohnen Ianikit must have his wand; it was in pocket of the robe he gave him. But Lupin was reassured that if Jarohnen found it, he wouldn't do anything rash. Hopefully, he wouldn't do anything...

"Today's your lucky day." The man came back holding a small cardboard box. "Found this buried in the corner. Only six rounds, though. May I see some identification?"

Lupin quickly presented his Muggle ID and gun license.

He carefully checked both items over. "Hmmm... okay Mr. Gardiner," the man said, reading off the license. "That'll be £ 48.54." Money exchanged hands and the weapon and ammunition was put into a paper bag. "Thank you very much, and have a nice day."

"You too," Lupin said in return, carrying the paper bag out with him.

"What did you buy?" Mary asked him when he came back out.

"Just something that'll come in handy," he said. He quickly put it in his case.

"Is it another gun?" she asked uncomfortably.

"No, it isn't, Mary. It's ammunition."

"Am-mu..."

"Bullets," he simplified shortly.

Mary looked even more uncomfortable. "But why couldn't you use your magic?"

"Sometimes, magic cannot be used in all situations," he answered quickly. "Now let's go."

Mary hurried her steps in order to catch up with him. "Where now?"

"Out of town," he answered firmly. Saying that was better than admitting he wasn't exactly sure where they were going at all.

***

"I'm 'ave no idea what you are talking about," Claire repeated irritably. She slumped in her chair and crossed her arms. "Last time ze RMC came, zey totally destroyed my Safehouse looking for a man zat certainly wasn't zair. And still you bring me in for questioning about zis... zis..." She sighed. "I'm sorry, what was 'is name again?"

"Remus Lupin," the interrogator replied in an equally annoyed voice. "I told you the suspect's name three times already, Madame. Certainly you should remember by now."

"Oh." Claire put a hand to her forehead, leaning her elbow against the table. "I'm sorry, Agent Yoshimoro, but my mind seems to be all mixed up today."

"It's all right. Here, I'll write the name down if it's so hard for you to recall." The lady did and handed Claire the slip of paper. "Reading something always helps me remember." Agent Yoshimoro wondered about her suspect's mental capacity for a second time during this questioning, then repeated her inquiry. "Did Remus Lupin or Jarohnen Ianikit stop by your Safehouse tonight?"

"I told you I've never seen or 'eard of a -" Claire glanced down at the card "- Remus Lupin before in my life, but Jarohnen 'as been staying at my Safehouse in London for ze past ten years. 'E's a regular who now comes in every winter. 'E used to stay all year, but I suppose he got tired of being cooped up in one place."

"Was Ianikit at your Safehouse today?"

"Of course," Claire answered confidently. "Jaroh never set a foot out ze door."

"Are you sure?" Yoshimoro pressed.

"Positive."

The MLES officer glanced at the Sneakoscope lying on the table. It had not moved an inch since the interrogation started; obviously then Madame de Chien-Loup couldn't have been pulling any type of deception. But her behavior, however, was certainly odd.

Knock, knock.

The door to the interrogation room opened and three officers stepped in. By their navy blue and red uniforms, one could tell they were from the Registry of Magical Creatures. Claire narrowed her eyes at the head of the group. "Mind if I take over, Amy?" Detective Agent Parsons asked pleasantly.

"Sure." Yoshimoro got up and handed him the file. "Something's strange about this one," she whispered in his ear. "Either she's fudging something or suffering from a severe mental lapse."

Parsons nodded, and took a seat at the small white table, while his two companions stood on either side of him silently. The only source of light was a single hanging lamp, leaving him surrounded in shadow. He then folded his hands together and greeted mildly, "Nice to see you again, Madame de Chien-Loup."

"My pleasure," Claire said stiffly in return.

Parsons got right down to business. "I believe you were giving Agent Yoshimoro some difficulty with the interrogation."

"Strange to think zat ze MLES could be involved wiz zis," she commented in return. "I thought zey were ze wizard police."

The RMC officer actually went out of his way to address this remark. "Remus Lupin apparently fits both wizard and werewolf legal categories. So this is a joint venture for between the RMC and the MLES. Surprised that you're not familiar with our culprit."

A wandering thought to the contrary lurked in the back of Claire's mind at this comment. She knew something before, but somehow erased it from her mind; she read a note apparently written by herself confirming this. The note also said to cooperate with the police even though Claire couldn't think of a reason otherwise.

Today had obviously been a strange one, because of certain blank spots. Like someone left today for somewhere. And there was someone else in her living room as well whom Antonia was talking with. But she couldn't recall the people who filled in those gaps. This annoyed her in a sense; it made her feel like she was losing her mind.

"Why should I know 'im?"

Parsons chuckled. "He is the only werewolf in modern English wizard history to be permitted spell-casting abilities by the Ministry," he answered knowingly. "Certainly a wolf like that would be idolized in your community." He arched an eyebrow at her. "And you say you can't even recall his name?"

"Well, I 'aven't been myself lately," Claire snapped, taking offense. "Maybe I do know 'im, just not off ze top of my 'ead."

"Uh-huh..." Parsons picked out another point. "And Jarohnen Ianikit, you claim, had never left your Safehouse all day?"

" 'E was in 'is room..." she trailed off. Something was wrong here.

"Madame, I'm afraid I have to say that you have been mistaken about that." Parsons expression turned from calm neutrality to a grim severity. "Ianikit was found less than half and hour ago, a few blocks from your Safehouse." He leaned forward and spoke with steely emotion in his voice. "He had tortured and killed five MLES officers."

Claire met his stare. "You're lying."

"I am not, wolf." He abruptly got up from his seat. "Come with me."

He didn't wait for Claire to get up herself. His two officers came to her seat and roughly escorted her out into the narrow hallway. Claire wormed her away out of their grasp and glared at them, darting a few steps ahead. Next door, another interrogation was occurring. Parsons tapped the back of his fist against the glass of the door's built-in window.

Claire peered inside. Another RMC officer had a Quick-Quotes Quill and was rapidly scribbling down notes from the interrogated suspect. Across the table, Jarohnen was slumped over, his eyes dull and glazed. His hands were chained behind his back, and a metal contraption was snapped over the lower half of his face.

"You put a muzzle on 'im?" Claire growled.

Parsons had reduced back into insipid mode again. "It was for his own good," he replied.

Claire glanced back at the window. The room was soundproof, and she could see Jarohnen's lips move languidly to answer the questions.

"What did you do?" she demanded.

"Oh? Putting the blame on me all of a sudden?" Again, Parson's eyebrow lifted. "The wolf is under the Veritaserum Potion. Don't worry, he won't be harmed any further for the time being."

"Why are you doing zis?"

"I told you already, he killed five of our officers. Can you guess how?"

Claire backed away from the door, not wanting to hear the answer.

Parsons faced her, wanting to see her reaction. "He was using Remus Lupin's wand, Madame. Now how do you think he could have gotten hold of that?"

She stuttered, although she had no idea why. "I- I don't know..."

Agent Parsons turned back around and started walked forward. So did his officers; Claire was pushed along with the group. "I know you're hiding something," he said lightly over his shoulder. "We'll get it out of you, one way or another, Madame. But let me tell you this now." He paused, as if for effect. Claire felt like spitting at his backside in that moment, but remained inept. "If you think that you can hide anything from us, Madame, I'm afraid you're wrong. And you will suffer the consequences..."