Wolf By Ears

Wolf by Ears

Part Ten: Fight vs. Flight

By D.M.P.

***

The difficulty in life is the choice.

- George Moore, -The Bending of the Bough, Act iv.

There is no difference between Time and any of the three dimensions of Space except that our consciousness moves along it.

- H.G. Wells, The Time Machine

***

Chapter 34

"Get your cloak on."

It was Ulysses. A cloth covered the lower part of his face; Lupin didn't recognize him at first. But now, with the sleep shaken from his eyes, he could tell who the two other figures were as well: Jarohnen and Alpha One.

Lupin got up with stiff knees and put his cloak on. He noticed that both Ulysses and Alpha One had strange bulges under their cloaks. The Gaczyna pack leader's cloak opened and Lupin saw the dull muzzle of a semi-automatic rifle. Lupin stared at the weapon for a few moments and fastened his cloak. Giving all three a grave stare, he silently complied as they led him out of his room and headed above ground.

They made their way through the dust-dry land. The air had a slight chill, making each breath seem sharper and more poignant that ever before. Or perhaps his senses only sharpened when he knew his life wouldn't last much longer...

Making their way up through the scrub lands, Lupin saw small rodents moving past his feet toward their dens. Lazy flies hovered low to the ground, brushing against his legs. For once, there was no sound of ammunition that morning and Lupin didn't wonder why.

He couldn't tell how he felt at that moment. His brain was divided into two, equally-matched camps: one was raging, screaming, infuriated at his own stupidity. That part of his brain chided him for what he had said to Claire, bemoaned lost chances to see Sirius or Harry again, and ridiculed his fate as something justly deserved for his foolishness. The other side was at complete peace. It knew that whatever happened at that moment, he would be safe from harm. It knew the logic of his tumbled visions and mixed up emotions of the past fortnight. It said in a quiet and calm voice, not unlike his own speaking voice: "Wait and see. You won't stay here much longer. You can't."

In the meantime, his body was in a cold sweat.

Up ahead, Lupin saw another trio. For a second, he hoped for and dreaded the possibility that one of them would be Claire, but he only saw three men upon closer approach. Two were from Gaczyna; the third he had never seen before. His face was bruised and swollen; his clothes were rumpled and torn in several places. This man stood out even more because he actually wore robes, not the army uniform like everyone else. On his sleeve was a red armband with a small badge beneath it. Lupin then realised that that man was a wizard.
"You stand with us," Ulysses whispered, gesturing with the gun
to the spot beside him.
Alpha One addressed the two wolves holding the wizard. "Suéltenlo."
The soldiers let the wizard go and the man crumbled to his knees, shoulders sagging, head bowed. His whole body swayed back and forth as if about to topple over as the wolf leader gave out his orders.

Where did this wizard come from? he wondered. Then, he recollected the doors underground the night of the full moon. Where Claire had been locked up. This wizard - he was the man behind the first door.
Raising an arm, Alpha One pointed to a bush about 50 metres away
from where they stood. "Va a correr allí. Pusimos su varita en aquel arbusto."
Lupin wondered what he said, but needn't to for long. "You will run to there," Ulysses translated quietly. "We put your wand in that bush."
"Si puede correr allí en un minuto, la varita estará suya."
"If you can run to there in one minute, then the wand is yours."

"Si no, se mataremos a tiros."

"If not, you will be shot."
"¿Entiende?"
"You understand?"

For a moment, Lupin couldn't tell if the wizard had listened at all.
Then, with obvious strain, the man lifted his head. "Al diablo contigo," he spat.
Instantly, one of the guards kicked him in the side. The wizard hit the ground, but did not moan. Hearing the man speak, Lupin confirmed that he was the groaning man who was locked up next to Claire during the full moon.

"¿Se está aprovechando de nuestra generosidad?" Alpha One said flatly. "A usted le damos pie para vivir."

"Are you takin' advantage of our generosity?" Ulysses repeated in English. "We are givin' you a chance to live."
Lupin felt his insides turn cold. He did not express any of his feelings, however; he stared down at the beaten wizard with the same bland expression the other wolves had.
The wizard's laboured breathing was the only sound for the next few minutes. He raised his head and, by coincidence, met with Lupin's eyes. In his dark gaze, Lupin felt the wrath of a complete stranger so intensely that it hurt, like fire brushing his skin.
The Gaczyna wolf motioned his head and the guards pulled the man back up. Alpha One then took out a small stopwatch from within the folds of his cloak. "¿Está listo?" The small click hit their ears like the stab of a pin. "Corra."

At first, Lupin believed that the wizard would have waited out his time. Yet slowly, painfully, he took one step. Then another.

"...cinco... seis.... siete.... ocho..."

The wizard turned half a step toward the wolves. In response, Ulysses raised his gun and pointed it at the other man's chest. "Nueve," he counted. "Diez... once... doce..."

Lupin braced himself. Watching, he saw the Spanish wizard turn, teeter on his feet a bit, and stare blankly at the shrub in the distance. An unknown emotion crossed his face, and then, he went.

The wizard ran, dragging his dead ankle, running, running, running, his arms pumping, his gasping breath filled the air. He flew across the ground like a wild beast during its final run, as if knowing that although this was the last damn thing he did, he was still going to do it right.... The distance narrowed, and hope surged into Lupin's heart, knowing that the other man felt it too... and the wizard was boring down closer and closer to his destination... Lupin could see the man's wand, a sliver in the distance ... faster and faster... He was going to make it, he was getting there... "Cincuenta-cinco, Cincuenta-seises"... and the man reached out his hand toward the bush-

Keow!

The sniper bullet seemed to tear the sky in half as the sound echoed in the quiet morning. The wizard collapsed, dead. A cloud of dust swirled up where he fell.

Alpha One nodded his head. At that signal, two soldiers loped easily toward the fallen man and hauled him back.

The sniper, wearing a cap low over his eyes, jogged over to them. The three turned and Lupin did too. To his amazement, Lupin could see red hair stick out from under the cap.

"Ya did well," Jarohnen told Toby. He looked over at Ulysses. "That was 100 metres?"

"Yup."

Toby stared ahead, at attention. His sniper rifle was held up along one side. Whether reaction he had from killing the man, he kept concealed. The guard carried the dead wizard past them. Alpha raised his hand for them to stop and looked over at the body. The shot came out clean, right through the centre of the forehead. The man's face was sprinkled with blood, and a thin crimson line ran along the ridge of his nose.

Lupin noticed Toby leaning forward, trying to catch the face of the dead man, but the three wolves turned their attention to him again and he fell back into position.

"Good," Alpha One said in a heavy voice. "Good shot."

"I told you he had potential," Ulysses said proudly. "I've been trainin' him with tin cans ever since he was twelve."

"We will take him," said Alpha One.

One of the guards presented the dead Spaniard's wand to Jarohnen. He took it and tossed it from hand to hand, almost playfully. He propped it lengthwise between his two index fingers, squinted at it analytically, and then held it in front of Lupin.

"It's yours, if ya want it," he said.

Was this a trap? The wolves, all except Toby who was still at attention, watched for his response. Lupin looked at the wand, then at their guns, then at the other wolves. If he took the wand, he could be free in an instant. He could Apparate himself someplace safe, away from all of this. Did they know that? Were they setting him free? Or were they trying to condemn him?

"You'll need it to teach, right?" Ulysses asked.

Lupin took it as his cue to take the wand from the Russian wolf. His fingers clenched around the wood. The sunlight glinted from their guns. Then, Lupin noticed the fresh blood on the wand, which came off on his hands. "It's not fitted for me," he said, offering it back. "The wand must choose its owner, not the other way around."

Jarohnen accepted the wand with a cool glance. "But of course, comrade," he said. "How stupid it was for me to think otherwise." With that, he snapped the wand in half.

***

A bright light flared up from the match as it struck the cinderblock wall. Dominic held it up to his cigarette and then waved his hand, extinguishing the flame. "So, he went with them?"

"I saw them leave this morning." Antonia replied. She was heading out to scout the borders with some other wolves soon; she was tying her hair back with a length of cloth.

"Do you think he's dead?"

Antonia paused, letting her half-done hair fall. She replied, "If he is, then I'm not complaining. It's no use to speak of a wizard fighting against us."

"Yeah..." Dominic blew a smoke ring, and ran his slim fingers through his cropped hair. "I heard from Ulysses that he was some religious psycho."

"A religious psycho?" Antonia commented, "Maybe. But he's also a wolf, no different from us."

At that moment, Toby entered the barracks, clutching the sniper rifle to his chest. Wordlessly, he went over to his bed, opened up the weapon case that lay on it, and began mechanically to disassemble his gun. The two other wolves were silent for a moment, before Dominic spoke.

"So," he asked, "how'd it go?"

Toby turned around and stared at him blankly. He sat down on the cot for a moment and put his head in his hands. Antonia and Dominic exchanged wary glances.

The woman moved toward him, extending a gentle hand. "It's always like that with your first," she began. "Death is a funny thing to see."

Dominic scoffed and turned away. " 'Bout time you figured out this isn't a game, pup," he spat, blowing smoke.

Antonia's hand hovered over the teenager's shoulder when he suddenly straightened up.

"It was red," Toby said in a quiet voice.

"What?" Antonia asked. "His blood?"

"Yeah." Toby looked at his hands for a split second before leaping onto his feet. "It was feckin' awesome!" he cried, jumping to his feet. "I was up on the hill, looking through the scope and I see him, running down, and I'm thinking, 'My God, I've never seen a wizard run so fast!'" He posed with the invisible gun in his hands. "And this is so different from shootin' rabbits or birds or anythin' I did before. This bloke was hittin' it hard, like he knew that I had my spec on him the whole time. And I just waited until he got to the bush and, 'Bang!'" He shot the imaginary bullet and threw up his hands. "Like that. Like that," he said, snapping his fingers.

"So, the puppy likes the sight of blood," Dominic drawled with a twisted smile.

"It was such a rush," Toby exclaimed. "I felt like a god. He was just so... so dead. It was unbelievable."

Antonia clapped her hand on his back and smiled. "You shot your first man," she said softly. "You'll do fine now." She left the room with a wistful air about her.

"When they carried the body back, I got to touch him," Toby said to Dominic. He held out his right hand as if it was a prized possession and stared at it, enraptured. "The wizard was still warm, Dom. It was like I never killed him at all."

***

The wizard served as a warning; Lupin knew that much. He sat on his cot, remembering the empty expression on the man's face. One wrong move and that anonymous man could be him.

The absolute cold-bloodedness of it all disturbed him the most. Their hawkish stares, the distant morning sun, the desperateness of that poor wizard who never had a chance at all... Lupin let his eyes close. After, Lupin caught sight of Toby brushing his hand up against the dead man's face when the soldiers were carrying him back. The boy, not even nineteen years old, fawned over a human being as if he was a big game kill. It made him sick.

Not even during his years in the Order, when Voldemort's terror reigned, did Lupin ever reduce himself to that. He had never killed a man before, and all of those wolves knew it; just like how he could see the bloodstain in their eyes, they could see how he remained unmarked. That was why they tempted him with that wand. Because they knew Lupin was the type of man who would never take it.

Was all of this a game to them? Damn, it wasn't. That was the entire point.

Why had Lupin told Claire about Lycaos last night? Why hadn't he kept quiet and plotted to escape behind their backs?

The questions weren't rhetorical. In fact, Lupin knew that he told Claire for a very important reason: because he wanted her to understand.

With a soft set of clicks, his door unlocked for the second time that morning. Claire stood in the threshold.

Stood. Her face appeared wan and strained, sweat beaded on her brow, and the two titanium crutches that supported her wobbled for a moment. Still, her eyes glowed and her chin was raised as if held up by iron. Ulysses stood by her. He still had his gun. A set of guards loomed behind them like shadows.

"Hello Claire."

"Âllo Remus."

"How are you doing?"

"Comme si, comme ça. Considering ze circumstances."

"True, considering."

A pause.

"I'm going back."

"To France?"

"Oui."

Her arms gave out a bit and she began to slip. Lupin stood half-way up, but Ulysses grabbed her arm and steadied her against him. Uncertainly, Lupin sat back down and folded his hands in his lap.

"I didn't mean it," he said.

"Mean what?" Claire said, breathing hard. She slumped against Ulysses's shoulder.

"To hurt you."

With a cynical and sarcastic tone in her voice, she replied, "Why should I be 'urt? Or, in zat case, why should you be considerate if I am?"

Lupin looked at her without saying a word. Claire turned her face away and looked over at the wall, biting her lower lip. "You don't understand ze world," she told him. "You see wiz dead eyes focussing on ze ghosts of ideals."

From outside, Lupin caught the shouts of the young troops going through artillery drills.

"I know zis will be 'ard for you to grasp. Jarohnen said it would take time, and I know 'e is right. Time will pass and you will see the terrible reality we live in."

A chorus of metal clicks as each gun cocked.

"You... you 'ave zese thought zat are driving you insane because you cannot see reality."

Gunshots rattled the air.

"You see ze wrong world."

Firing.

"But we will show you ze right one."

Stopping.

"Remus?"

Reloading.

"Are you listening?"

Lupin lifted his head. Her voice was so flat and listless he didn't know whether it was the real Claire talking to him or whether she was being propped up like Ulysses's marionette. Lupin wanted to hold her and scream at her at the same time, but he couldn't rouse the energy to do either.

"Am I crazy?" he said calmly. "Do you honestly believe I am crazy?" With searching eyes, he looked to her face for any signs of doubt.

An unflinching gaze in return. One cold syllable. "Yes." Lips opened, lips closed, as if pulled by a string. She balanced herself again, with Ulysses's hand remaining on her arm. "I must go," she said, voice cracking at the last word. "You'll be better soon."

She cleared her throat discreetly while Ulysses murmured something in her ear.

Unexpectedly, Lupin said, "He needed to leave, if I remember correctly."

Both looked up. "Who?" she asked.

"The Little Prince," Lupin said. "He needed to find his place in the universe. That's why he left. His planet was too small for him."

Claire stared at him for a few moments. Then, she replied, "This is different."

"He missed the flower in the end. And he went back to her."

"Zat isn't how ze story went." She frowned. "Ze snake bit him and 'e died."

"Maybe he just went home."

"And maybe ze sheep ate ze flower too." Claire turned away quickly. Lupin didn't get up when they shut the door again.

***

Stupid wolf, the fool, the idiot, the bastard-

"You holdin' up?"

The fool, the damned fool, the wretched, self-deluded, egocentric, fanatical buffoon -

"Oui."

She slipped again, but Ulysses grabbed her arm with both hands and pulled her up. "Why-"

"Practice," she hissed, wincing. Clumsily, she steadied herself again, took a few breaths, and continued down the hall. Her crutches jutted out when she took a step, her right leg barely moving, her left one completely limp.

Ulysses wrapped his arm around her waist and helped her forward bearing the brunt of her weight. It was obvious that he was pushing her more than she could move herself, but he didn't comment. They reached her room and Claire sunk down into her wheelchair, the crutches jutting out askew before she removed them and threw them on the bed. Rubbing her upper arms where the metal arm cuff had pressed into her skin, she said, "What is going to 'appen to Remus?"

Ulysses scratched a spot right under his chin, eyes distracted. She knew he did that when he had to give an answer he knew she wouldn't like.

Claire glanced up. "You won't 'arm 'im, will you?" she asked.

Not that she cared about Remus now. The traitor, the selfish twit, the inconsiderate lout.

"Sometimes a dog's got to be whipped into obedience," he replied slowly, "if only to learn how to accept treats from his master's hand."

She didn't like that analogy. "Don't try to fool me," she said fiercely.

"Nothin' would happen that he didn't bring upon himself," the Texan wolf pointed out.

She stared at her hands. How could she have given herself to him so easily? To be used, then cast aside for an almost imaginary girl?

"We did everything we could to make him want to stay," Ulysses told her. "Jaroh told him all the things that would convince any normal, feeling wolf to stay. Sometimes, though, it just doesn't work that way."

Claire did a double-take. "What do you mean, 'Jaroh told 'im...?'"

"Appeals to the heart. Lupin did care about you, right? Jarohnen told him you were, um, accosted by that wizard Parsons - "

"You did what?"

"It's the truth. We knew that you'd never tell Lupin that you were raped-"

"What?"

"Well, you didn't ever wonder why he never asked you himself why you used a wheelchair? Because Jarohnen told him about that night after he woke up."

Claire swallowed hard, her ears turning red. "But..."

"Hey, I didn't mean to sound rough about it, but it's the truth. He asked me that night about what happened to you, and I told him to talk with Jarohnen about it. Jarohnen told the whole thing. I'm sorry if you didn't want it that way-"

Had Jarohnen told Lupin a lie in order to guilt-trip him into staying? If Jarohnen said that Claire sacrificed her life for Lupin--

Disgust and guilt filled her soul. Claire had never even thought of Lupin once that night! She was only afraid, like a weakling would be afraid, and had used the mask of pride to cover her cowardice. She had never been noble or self-sacrificing....

Was that the foundation of his love? Pity? Pity? Mon Dieu, why hadn't she realised that before? Only in her highest fantasies could anyone possibly love-

The thought was cut off. Why should she focus on that now? Remus would have to stay here anyway; she had to go back into the real world now. Her brother would be returning soon.

"D'you want to be alone?"

"You don't need to ask," she replied in a steely voice.

Ulysses paused at the doorway, then left without another word.

Claire gazed ahead with the eyes of a helpless woman and for the first time in a long time looked exactly how she felt: abandoned. Putting her hands to her face, she rubbed her eyes furiously. Suddenly it seemed as if her chest had locked itself up into a tight, knot; she couldn't breathe. Claire gagged, hit her fists against the arms of her chair and coughed, once, twice. She couldn't breathe. She couldn't breathe.

A bitter cough came out again, and Claire grabbed the nearest thing at hand, a pitcher from the bedside table. She threw it against the wall. It crashed, spilling water, then bounced off the plaster wall toward her feet. With a quiet growl, she took the tin container up against and began hitting it against the wall.

She knew people could hear her in the hallways; she knew, but didn't care. Remus could he hearing it in his room and she wouldn't care. Damn him, damn him and his crazy delusions! Damn him and everything in the universe that worked against her! She clenched her teeth and a strained scream came out, tattered like cobwebs.

Toby should have killed him today! Jarohnen should have shot him in the head; Ulysses should hang him like the dog he was; the guards should beaten him to death. Martyrdom, wasn't that was what Remus wanted? To be martyred? Well, fine then, he could be put to death here and she couldn't care! She wouldn't even have a drop of compassion for him, that manipulative fool! That foolish believer! That- that- that wizard!

And the pain only grew worse inside her chest with every mental insult she threw at him. Claire couldn't understand why.

The pitcher was beaten into a hunk of deformed metal by now. She gave it one more throw and made a pit in the plaster when the jagged lump hit the wall.

Quickly, Claire moved out of her room. There were other wolves in the hall, but the veil-eyed recruits did not even cast a glance at her as she passed. Dominic was crossing the main hall. He stopped for a second, saw her face, turned about, and headed in the opposite direction. She made her way up the ramp and waited tensely as two of the young soldiers held the underground latch open for her. No one questioned where she was going.

She needed to breathe again. Claire bit her lower lip as her arms worked the wheelchair. She took the widest path out of the camp, also the one she and Remus had always used. Making it far enough so that the camp was a toy model in the distance, Claire stopped, put the brake on and slumped forward, panting.

In her exhaustion the same question plagued her, cutting through her anger.

Why had Jarohnen told him? Had he been the one to manipulate Remus into pitying her, of feeling some sort of life-debt to her? So he would stay at the camp and play the Magical Professor to new troops?

Had Jarohnen used her?

Wicked thought! Remus was the one who had hurt her; Jarohnen had nothing to do with it!

Claire felt herself slip from her seat and she fell, noiselessly, to the dirt. A hiccup escaped her throat and she inhaled the chalky dust, coughing.

But it had to be one or the other, correct? So, perhaps this was all a misunderstanding; perhaps Remus felt guilty on his own, the pathetic loser. Maybe, maybe it was all his fault then. Why was she even adding Jarohnen to the equation? No, what a stupid idea!

Her conscience reassured, Claire groped for the seat of her chair. She struggled to pull herself back up; it wasn't easy without someone else to aid her. Inch by inch,, muscles straining, she got herself back into her chair. When she finally did, she inhaled the fresh air deep into her lungs. It felt good.

Up above, she noticed a small form turning circles. A bird. But this bird was more unusual than the occasional desert hawk. Claire shaded her eyes for a better look. An owl?

Shouts in the distance made her look down again. Two soldiers aimed their guns and fired at the owl. Their shots only frightened it, for it turned circles through the air, shedding feathers in its fear. One of the bullets pierced straight through the owl, and the bird plummeted toward the ground, screeching.

The bird hit the ground a few yards away from her. Claire pushed her chair to it and picked up the poor creature from the ground. Dark red smeared its feathers; the owl was already dead. Attached to its leg was a tiny message tied with string. Claire yanked it off. What was a messenger owl doing here? Only Mercury, the girl soldier was used to deliver messages. Owls were never trusted, for they could easily be intercepted.

She unrolled the message. Was this some unfortunate owl passing by? Or was it something more?

Reading it, she blinked once in surprise and stuffed the note in her pocket. By this time, the two soldiers were loping toward her.

"The owl?" one asked with a soft Spanish accent.

Claire gave the limp bird to him. The wolf checked its legs and said, roughly, "This is an English bird. Was there a message?"

She shook her head. "It must 'ave fell off," she told them.

The other one whispered in Spanish to his comrade. He nodded and tipped his cap to Claire in dismissal before both of them ran back to camp.

When they were gone, she hurried to her room. There, facing a corner, she felt safe enough to unfold the paper once more.

The message hit a spark in her memory. Remus had mentioned these names off-hand, when they had sat together in the sun during their endless conversations.

Moony,

Are you there? The trial's starting over here. Better get back soon.

- Padfoot

There was a small marking in the corner, almost like a needless scribble. After staring at the message for a long, long time, Claire leaned her head against the wall. What a fool, she thought. A merciless fool.

Then: I am such an idiot.

Chapter 35

In times likes these, Lupin wished he had a watch. He had one, but it had been taken away when he was searched before being escorted down to the dungeons back in Edinburgh. He wanted nothing fancy, just a slip of leather with a dial on it, so whenever reality seemed to lose its meaning, he could look at his wrist and think, "At least I know it's 2:41."

Now Lupin was keeping track of the date in his mind. March 28^th. It was a shame he couldn't have recognized this sooner; that way, he could have written everything down beforehand. But now...

In his hands he held a small scrap of paper. It had been slipped beneath his door, or some reason or another, by a stranger. But upon reading it, Lupin realised that only one person in this camp could have given him this message, knowing full well who wrote it.

Moony,

Are you there? The trial's starting over here. Better get back soon.

- Padfoot

And in the corner, almost a scribble to be ignored, was a picture. A badly drawn picture, of course, but Sirius was never an artist. And Lupin recognize what the scribble was, because it was a familiar object that he had known about before, when a particular student used it last year to be able to double-up on her courses.

The Time Turner.

What he had suspected before was true. His strange visions here were a reflection of either two things: that 1) he was going insane or 2) that two Lupins were existing at once. Though considering the circumstances past and present, Lupin could have just been going around the bend, but that explanation was not the case. He was not a quantum-physics expert, but he did know enough about Time Turners to know how the contraptions work.

The dimension of time had always been a dangerous and tricky field of study; it had even been rumoured that further investigations were being conducted in the Department of Mysteries. Time Turners were only perfected a few years ago, and not many people advocated their use. When Professor McGonagall persuaded the Ministry to let Hermione Granger use one for her studies, it was a revolutionary event.

The use of Time Turners had not been completely perfected, however. Time is a tricky dimension to play with, anyway; catastrophes, like all the wizard-Muggle conflicts throughout history, or even the last war with Voldemort, can't be undone with the aid of time travel. In fact, time can be turned back for only a limited amount without any side-effects. If Hermione wanted to go back in time for two hours in order to take her Divination class and her Muggle Studies course, for example, she would be able to do so without any implications. For longer periods of time, such as days, or even weeks, a "double effect" would occur, where the single person exists in two places at once. That, Lupin reasoned, was why he was experiencing things both at the Gaczyna camp and back in Edinburgh: because he existed in both places simultaneously. But in order for him to do that, it would mean that he would have to go back in time at some point, back to Edinburgh and re-experience all those events.

Lupin sat down and traced a calendar in the dirt on the floor. The visions started around March 14^th, the first morning he woke up at the camp. That would mean that when he had gone back in time, he would have gone back at least a day beforehand. His trial date was approaching. So some time close in the future, an opportunity would come for Lupin to perform the act of time travel.

It was very reassuring, in a way, that his future was so secure. Still, many questions remained: How was he supposed to get this Time Turner? How did he escape from the camp in the first place? Obviously, Sirius didn't send over the magical device with the owl for certain reasons: it was too valuable to be lost, of course, but also, Lupin wasn't supposed to go back in time while at the camp. If he was supposed to, then he would have had a "double-experience" with him being at the camp, not back in Edinburgh. This meant that although Lupin knew that he was going back to Scotland, he knew that he had to get there on his own.

Not only that, but how in the world did Sirius get a hold of a Time Turner anyway? All of the devices were heavily guarded by the Ministry. Lupin knew of only one person outside of the Ministry who was ever capable of handling a Time Turner, and that was Dumbledore himself. Does that mean that both of them had teamed reconnected again back at Hogwarts? Could be.

But why was this note given to Lupin? Did the other wolves on camp suspect him of escaping? Was this whole thing another absurd game, where they tempt him with a chance to flee only to use it as an excuse to kill him?

Frankly, Lupin was becoming sick of ethical problems, sick of complex situations, and sick of people trying to screw around with his head.

He looked at his hands. If the flashbacks to his second present have just started, that could only mean that his existence in this place was growing thin. Raising his eyes, he stared at the whitewashed wall before him. His mind narrowed down its priorities from the general goal of "Live Another Day" to the more specific one of "Getting the Hell Out of Here." Through the small slit of a window near the ceiling, he saw the light come through, and the constant clamour of the wolves practicing in the field. He jumped on top of his bed and pressed himself up against the wall. His eyes managed to peer out from the tiny opening to see only the swirling dust that got into his eyes.

But his ears were still open. A distant soldier shouted, "Mercury está aquí."

Mercury was here. He angled his face upwards and could see the distant figure throw off her Invisibility cloak, reappearing on the ground, her feet flashing gold.

The girl with the winged boots.

***

But someone was reading his mind that night. Looking back, Lupin couldn't out put his finger on exactly what the difference was in the atmosphere: something ominous, something waiting, something almost predictable. Or being exactly predictable, since he knew - somewhat - what was supposed to take place.

Lupin knew that he had to find a way out of the room. The thought about how much he was worth to the rebel wolves came to mind. Would they open up the door if they saw him injured, or, perhaps, dying? Would they even care? Possibly. So, in the middle of the night of March 28^th, Lupin sat on his cot, idly contemplating ways to fake a suicide attempt, when, suddenly, his door opened.

"I know what you're planning."

Lupin looked over. "And what may that be?" he asked softly.

Claire turned away. "Follow me."

Remembering her puppet act from earlier, he hesitated. "Why should I?"

"Because if you don't, you'll never get out of 'ere alive."

"That's an ultimatum that's been suggested a lot lately."

She stopped, but didn't smile. "Shut ze door behind you."

He did. "Wait here. I know a better route." Claire said. She paused at the usual corner, seemed to listen for a few moments, then headed in the opposite direction away from the main corridors. Silently, they moved down the darkened hallways. But this was a place that never slept; Lupin could see the shadows of soldiers, like ghosts, move out of the corner of his eye.

They stopped by another room far from his, a stock room brimming with bags of provisions and barrels of dried beans and vegetables. She wheeled herself inside, then grabbed a bundle from one of the middle shelves. "Put zis over your clothes," she ordered.

Lupin untangled what appeared to be a large cloak that Mercury wore while she flew. "An Invisibility Cloak," he murmured.

"Zey are playing war games tonight," she told him. "It's a training exercise. If you wear ze cloak, it's not likely zey'll shoot you."

"Shoot me? What kind of exercise is this?"

"Hunting wizards." Claire gave a crooked grin. "Nothing you should worry about." She pulled out a sack as well, which moved about as if a small animal was trapped inside. Removing the sack, Claire held out the pair of winged boots. The laces were tied around the tops of the boots where the wings were attached, but the footwear struggled in her grip. "Take zis." She threw the boots to Lupin. He caught them with both arms, dropping the robes. "It isn't easy to control zem, so 'ere is ze staff to 'elp counter-balance your feet."

However, he didn't make a move to put them on. "Why are you doing this?"

She took out Mercury's staff as well, which had a rag tied around the top to restrain the pair of silver wings that fluttered there. "You know why."

Lupin's eyes darted out the doorway of the strange room. No one was out there as far as he could tell. But was this but another exercise? Was Toby going to shoot him in the back, or would he wait with a sniper rifle until he got outside? "No, I don't."

Claire gave a hollow laugh. "I don't 'ave to state ze obvious. You were planning to escape, weren't you?" Lupin didn't say a word. "Zat owl zat came today? You 'ave a friend on ze outside waiting for you. It's all planned out somehow. Don't try to fool me into thinking zat you are not doing zis?"

The note. Sirius wrote him the note because he knew that it was the motivating factor for Lupin's escape. If this whole time theory worked, then Sirius would have only known to send the note if someone told him... and that someone might as well have been Lupin himself....

But why was she helping him then? Her eyes flashed like steel, cold and distant. Lupin saw no warmth anymore, and had the ugly feeling that she was locking a part of herself inside.

"And so... so you're helping me..?" he managed to say, trying to clear his puzzled mind.

"I know zat you stayed 'ere because of what I did for you and...ze girl. But I am not a saint," she whispered, "whatever sacrifice I made zat Jarohnen told you about was not true. When I was at the Ministry, under interrogation..." She closed her eyes, swallowed hard, then opened them again, "...I did not become a paralytic because of some selfless act of devotion. It was an accident. A mistake. I did not drink ze Wolfsbane Potion because I was scared. Because I was scared. Not because I loved you."

Lupin was struck dumb by her words. He opened his mouth slightly, but nothing came out.

"I was not sure I loved you back zen, but I do now, which doesn't matter now, obviously." She threw him the staff. He caught it, automatically, his eyes never leaving her face.

"Get out," she whispered. "You never belonged 'ere."

"Claire, I-"

"Zair is a back exit," she interrupted. "Out zis door, you must turn to your left and run down, zen take the stairs up at ze dead end."

Lupin grabbed her shoulder, and felt it stiffen up into stone. "I didn't stay because I felt guilty-"

She threw his hand off. "Take two rights-"

"Please don't regret what happened. I didn't mean to-"

"- and you will find a small trap door leading above ground."

"- mislead you. I never meant it that way. I only-"

"Shut up and listen!" Claire snapped. Their eyes met, and Lupin controlled himself from doing anything more. He only looked at her with the same cool stare she gave him.

"Down the hall, up the stairs, two rights," she summarized, looking at him with a level eye. "Now I will count to ten. If you are not out of my sight by ze time I am finished, I will call ze guards on you. And I swear I will leave you to the Gaczyna pack's fate."

Again, Lupin found himself lost for words. But this time, unlike before at the Safehouse, he had a chance to say this to her face. "Thank you," he said, before he put on the Invisibility cloak and threw the hood over his face.

"Do your duty," she said. "Un, deux, trios-"

Lupin took the winged boots and staff and he ran. Down the hallway, up the long flight of stairs into a different hall lined with mud bricks, then to the right, coming to an intersection, then another right, then-

The thought of the dead Spanish wizard came to mind and Lupin stopped, realizing the parallels to his situation. Again, caution overtook him, and he surveyed his surroundings, clutching the boots which kicked wildly against his forearms. Was this a trap? The fresh memory of the coldness in her eyes returned. Did she despise him now? The thought flickered briefly in his mind like a dying candle, then blew over as soon as he saw a ladder and the trapdoor above him.

The door was heavy and wouldn't budge at first. Lupin braced himself again and pushed. Bit by bit, it gave way, then made a loud crack as it was thrown open. The sound made Lupin tumble off the rungs and grab his belongings. For a few seconds, he huddled in a corner, alarm bells going off between his ears. Then, finding no one coming, he climbed up into the open night air.

The world was coloured in shades of black and blue. In the distant, the sharp pellet-bangs of rifle fire echoed. Claire had said that they were hunting wizards. Lupin felt his limbs stiffen. What kind of war exercise did that involve? Were there more captive wizards being executed tonight, victims of a routine practice?

Shrugging off the thought before it could paralyze him, Lupin moved quickly through the scrubland. A loud gunshot was heard, and Lupin dropped down low to wait. Tense minutes passed with him not moving. He wanted to put on the boots now, but he couldn't, not while he was still close to the camp. And within firing distance as well.

He crawled down on his stomach, with the winged boots flapping in his right hand, and the staff tugging his left hand forward. He tried to make as little noise as possible, but every rustle made him cringe, and even the sound of his own breathing made him wish he didn't have to.

After many minutes, Lupin's heart finally began to slow down. The sound of guns was growing fainter and fainter. Maybe now was a good time to put on the boots.

Suddenly, a figure emerged from the darkness. The cold, unforgiving muzzle of a rifle pressed into his back.

"Get up, and take off that cloak," ordered Jarohnen Ianikit. The gun was lifted. Slowly, Lupin got up on his knees, and then to his feet.

Lupin slipped the cloak off to see Jarohnen with an assault rifle propped up on one stooped shoulder. The old wolf had Lupin directly in his line of sight, with the weapon pointed straight at his chest. "Very few people can move through the scrub brush," he informed him. "And even fewer can do so without tramplin' like an elephant." Heart sinking, Lupin looked behind him and could tell his exact path by the bent, dry grass, broken shrubs, and scratched earth that would let even a greenhorn tracker have a field day.

"Tonight is a dangerous night for Comrade Remus," he said, his Russian accent sounding like a predator's purr. "They are playin' war games." He took a step forward and Lupin took one step back. "Combat exercises," he went on. "With live ammunition. Wolves have gotten hurt, if they were not careful." Another step. "Friendly fire. All accidental. It's a sad thing, when there is friendly fire. But when it's dark, and there is so much action, sometimes... sometimes mistakes happen."

By then the space between them was barely a metre. "Drop the boots."

Lupin did. They bounced along the ground, struggling against their bonds, and tumbled away into the dark scrub brush. Jarohnen gestured to the staff as well, and Lupin threw it past him.

"Where is my comrade goin'? Why is he leavin'?"

"I was going nowhere," Lupin replied, his hands slightly raised.

"Or will go nowhere, dependin' on this conversation." Jarohnen said. He nudged him with the gun. "Who does Comrade Remus think he is? A godly wolf? A wizard saint?"

"I never tried to delude myself into thinking that, no matter what Claire might have told you. She misunderstood."

"But great Remus Lupin still thinks he is different than us." A crooked, bitter smile crossed his face, one that showed the gap in his teeth. "That is why he denies our call to arms?"

The fact Jarohnen refused to directly address him unnerved Lupin. He could see his eyes gleam. The light gave him a ghoulish cast, as if revealing a side more sinister than Lupin had ever seen. "No." Lupin replied. "I only don't belong here."

"Remember, if Remus Lupin goes back, the wizards will catch him. Think about it. The werewolf going to trial. The werewolf, the wicked beast. The werewolf sentenced to die. And when Remus Lupin - the exception, the anomaly - dies, there will be no barriers between werewolf and man. The wizards will finally find their justification to declare their war on us."

"What war?"

"Why does he think we fight here? Because everythin' is a picnic?" Jarohnen demanded. "Wizards only need one excuse to wipe all werewolves out. And that excuse is the wizardin' werewolf Remus Lupin. For if even someone as tamed as he cannot fight the urge to kill, then werewolves will never be safe enough for wizards."

Tamed? Lupin stared at the werewolf, the torturer and murderer. What was his definition of "tamed?" "And so all of this," Lupin lifted a hand, "this is your defence against wizard retaliation?"

"He talks as if it was a bad thing," Jarohnen replied softly. "We must fight. But we cannot fight poorly."

Another step. Wolf with a gun. Armed with honey-covered words which stabbed like thorns.

"See our logic? If Remus Lupin goes, we all die. Stay, and Remus Lupin becomes our teacher in the ways of magic. Our leader against wizard oppression. Our saviour. Understand?"

"Your saviour?" The words sounded sour on Lupin's tongue.

"Or..." Jarohnen clicked the rifle, and an empty cartridge fell out. "Our martyr. He will be killed by his own people. Wizard or wolf."

Suddenly, Lupin felt the anger slowly stir beneath his fear. A thought that had bothered him since he fled was finally voiced. "Was Claire involved in this?" he asked harshly. "Did you try to manipulate her into getting me to stay?"

"Why does he mention one of the compatriots of the future revolution?" Jarohnen mused. "Does he not understand nothing is above the cause for werewolf freedom?"

But she wasn't a compatriot, if she helped Lupin escape! Yet Jarohnen was here, stopping his escape... Did she tell ... or... was it only a coincidence...? Where did this woman stand-?

"Unless he is implyin' that he had outside help..."

"Bastard," Lupin hissed. His legs tensed.

"Famous last words," Jarohnen said. Then, he fired.

Lupin fell flat on the ground, grabbing the Invisibility Cloak. He wrapped himself as he rolled along the ground and disappeared.

He rolled into the grass. Shots followed. Pain - something hot brushed against his left leg. He gasped, and bit his lip until it bled. No sound, not now! Damn! Had to get off the ground!

Scrambling through the darkness. Blind hands searching for the staff he had thrown. Smooth wood reached his fingertips. He yanked off the rag along the top. Golden wings--

"Whoa!"

Immediately, the freed staff flew upwards, lifting Lupin off the ground. A couple metres above ground he floated, like a small child holding a large balloon would. He floated, holding his breath as he watched Jarohnen turn a slow circle, looking for where the noise had stopped. The wolf below looked around the brush. No more sound from the ground. He was safe.

Lupin felt his blood drip down his calf. He clutched at his leg and grimaced. Kissed by a bullet - hurt like hell.

Lupin hovered only a few feet from Jarohnen. He swung his feet, hoping to steer himself in another direction. Instantly, the old werewolf turned, so that both of them were facing each other. Lupin stopped breathing and froze, holding his leg bent against his body so that blood wouldn't drip. He could feel it ooze between his fingers.

Jarohnen paused. His nostrils sniffed - once, twice. Lupin cringed. The scent of his blood--

Instantly, Jarohnen whirled around in the other direction and fired. Nothing but air. Lupin took this time to swing his unharmed leg forward, and the staff slowly moved him further away.

Still, it was too close to the ground to be safe. Keeping Jarohnen in the corner of his eye, Lupin scanned the dark brush for the winged boots.

But he wasn't the one to find them. Rustle in the brush. Jarohnen turned and fired. In a heartbeat, a pair of boots, their laces cut, literally bounced from the ground into the sky. Lupin saw them shoot upwards toward him. He let his injured leg drop and grabbed the winged boots. Then, the stars rushed towards them - he was up in the air as if shot from a cannon, the boots kicking skyward with their wings pulled back - Lupin let out a cry--

Bullets cut into the air in front of him, but missed. He heard Jarohnen curse, but he was quickly getting smaller and smaller, blending into the shadowed earth...

Lupin was now out of range for any gunfire, but the boots still wouldn't stop their ascent. The cloak billowed inward and got in Lupin's way - he let go of the staff -

It floated off and the imbalance left him swinging wildly in the air with only one hold on the boots. He dangled, helplessly and he reached down to untie the normal ragged boots and watched them drop down below. Gritting his teeth, Lupin then pulled down his arm - it was like lifting weights - and shoved one boot onto his left foot.

"Ahhhh!" His foot shot up and he dangled as it zig-zagged through the atmosphere. Hastily, Lupin threw the other boot on his right foot, and then that leg moved up as well, so that he was flying through the air upside-down, the Invisibility Cloak hanging off his uncovered shoulders.

"Damn it all," he muttered between clenched teeth. The staff, which was more obedient than his pesky footwear, hovered patiently nearby, and he grabbed it. The staff moved above to turn him rightside-up again. Lupin grasped the staff with both hands to steady his feet, which kept darting out from beneath him. It felt as if he was ice-skating on the sky. And Lupin had never been good at ice skating.

After a while, his feet got used to the boots, or the boots got used to him. Either way, Lupin began to make steady progress across the sky. He took the time to observe the ground below. The landscape was still black, meaning he was in the country somewhere. Lupin tried finding any significant landmarks to go by, but it seemed that the Gaczyna camp was hidden well. Nothing but dry scrubland spread out for kilometres around; he couldn't even see any lights of civilization.

"Well, I know this is Spain, at least," he muttered to himself. "But what part I have no idea...."

Abruptly, the staff stopped moving.

"What now-?" Lupin slapped it hard with the heel of his hand. "Come on. Go!"

Immediately, it shot forward, faster than it had ever been, taking away his breath-

"Stop!" he exclaimed.

It halted.

He took a few moments to catch his breath. "Are you listening to me?" he asked aloud.

The staff didn't move. "Left," he commanded. The staff moved to the right, and the wing boots moved in sync. "Right." He moved in that direction.

Carefully, Lupin tested out all the cardinal directions, the staff and boots working together, their wings moving in time with the commands. Relieved, Lupin wiped the chilled sweat from his brow.

He tested it further, first, "To the Channel," and then "To Brighton." Across the midnight ocean he moved, admiring how the moonlight sparkled over the rippling waters. The last time he had seen the sea like this was when he took Mary on a hippogriff ride back at Brighton. Strangely enough, when the memory came to mind, it did not hurt as much as memories of her had before. Lupin smiled to himself and moved onwards.

When the bright lights of the shore city glimmered beneath him, he gave one last command.

"To Edinburgh," he said and flew.

The buildings of Edinburgh greeted him with the Muggle buildings and the faint sound of traffic. Lupin landed down by Waldo's Plugs and Outlets, the secret entrance to the Edinburgh branch of the Ministry of Magic. The pain jumped up from his leg, and he winced a bit. The winged boots still squirmed on his feet, but he stomped loudly several times, and they settled down on the ground, somewhat disgruntled. Hesitantly, he removed the Invisibility Cloak and surveyed his surroundings. All was deserted, but he felt another's presence.

"Sirius?"

"About damn bloody time," his friend said from behind him. Lupin turned to see Sirius sitting on an upturned crate near some rubbish bins. "It took you long enough," he muttered. "Shacklebolt was starting to worry, because Bode was running out of excuses as to why one of the Department of Mysteries's precious Time Turners was unaccounted for."

He got up from his spot and started walking towards Lupin. "You owe him big, y'know," he added. "Between giving Fudge false leads on my location while trying to help rescue you at the same time - well, Shacklebolt's saying how we're making him work overtime at the Ministry. And you know how they never pay well for overtime these days, with the budget and all."

By this time, both men stared at each other face-to-face, Lupin looking like some kind of Greek god gone commando and Sirius still scowling ruthlessly.

"I suppose we're obliged to do something for Kingsley as compensation," Lupin mused. "Cook him dinner one night perhaps."

"Yeah. But I make a loathsome cook."

"I could probably whip up something."

"Like what? All I've ever had from you was rabbit on a stick. And to tell you the truth, it was rather gamey."

Lupin laughed, a rich, full one that surprised even him. "I missed you too, Padfoot."

"That's the second time you've said that to me lately. I'm touched, really." Sirius put a hand on Lupin's shoulder and broke into a grin. "Now let's get the hell out of here."

As the two walked down the alleyway, Sirius noticed Lupin's limp. "Good gods," he said, glancing at Lupin's leg and stopping. "What happened?"

"A werewolf with an AK-47, that's what," Lupin said.

Sirius's eyes went wide for a moment, and the memory of the last gunshot wound they had seen together came to both of them. "It-it only grazed me," Lupin said softly.

"We'll just take a look at it. C'mon, over here." Sirius escorted him to the alleyway, where Lupin recognised a second person standing in the shadows. Someone he hadn't seen in a long while.

"Hello Remus," Professor Dumbledore smiled. "You look like you've been through quite a bit."

"Indeed." Lupin bit his lip as he pulled away the tattered cloth around his leg. Blood had caked over it during the flight, showing the blue, ruptured veins in his calf. The wound was long and deep, with the torn muscles showing. Lupin had no idea how bad his leg was, but seeing it for the first time made the pain suddenly increased tenfold.

Seeing the wound, Sirius's expression turned dark. "That bastard!" he spat. "Who the fuck did this to you?"

"No need for that, Sirius. We don't have too much time." Dumbledore took out his wand and waved it quickly over Lupin's injured leg, which healed in an instant. A thick pale scar was all that was left behind, yet it still ached. Lupin rubbed the tender flesh as Dumbledore addressed him formally. "Now, I suppose that you have some idea of what is going on?"

"It's really an odd sensation actually," Lupin commented. "I feel like I'm a part of some giant deus ex machina."

Sirius and Dumbledore exchanged glances. "I had one of my agents fetch a Time Turner from Kingsley back at the Ministry," Dumbledore explained. "I had tried to attend your hearing two weeks ago, but it was a closed court, and the guards at Nemesis Courthouse wouldn't let me though."

"I was with him," Sirius added. He didn't need to add that he came in his Animagus form. "We knew that the hearing wouldn't turn out well. So we came to Edinburgh afterwards to try and talk with you, but we were told you were being kept under maximum security."

So that was what they called being put in the dungeons? If only Lupin had known that the both of them were there to see him; he probably wouldn't have felt so awful then.

Thinking about the hearing, he asked, "Do you know what happened to Mr. Harper?" Lupin recalled that strange vision he had, and the bandages his barrister had worn. Did those wounds have anything to do with this?

"He's recovered quite nicely," Dumbledore answered. "I paid him a visit at St. Mungo's myself. He was a good Hufflepuff, I remember, aside from his nervous disposition. But I'm sure Mr. Harper will tell you all the details of our conversation soon enough." He checked a rather large pocket watch he took from his right pocket. "Our talk has to be cut short, unfortunately."

"But why are you helping me?" Lupin asked. "I know that I shouldn't really ask why, but this seems too planned, too convoluted - "

"Well, think of time as a box," Sirius said, then he paused, and re-started, "I mean, not as a box but more like a loop... well, or a portal in and out..." He trailed off, then threw his hands up.

Dumbledore shook his head a bit. "Sometimes, fate has things planned in ways that we cannot control, only follow. But," he added, "it's the choices we make that decide how fate shall work, after all." From within his robes he took out the small golden hourglass on a chain and handed it over to Lupin. Looking it over, Lupin saw that it had different markings than the one McGonagall had given to Hermione; this one counted off the days, not the hours. "Fifteen turns should be sufficient."

"But I don't quite know where to start, though," he said, somewhat sheepishly.

"Well, if I remember correctly," Sirius replied, "when you met us on March 13^th after the hearing, you explained that you were going to break back into Edinburgh with the help of some janitor by the name of Lottie Gordon." He arched an eyebrow. "And you never told me exact how you knew this Ms. Gordon."

"I used to work with her," he said.

"That's what you told me last time."

Dumbledore quickly cut in. "Tonight is March the 28^th," he reminded. "See you earlier."

Lupin gave a nod and flipped the Time Turner accordingly. In a flash, the world sped up around him. He watched with fascination as the sunshine and moonlight passed in and out. People walked by, wizards slipped into the shop indiscreetly, tour groups entered and left. Rubbish bins were put out and collected. Birds flew overhead. Then, time slowed, the sun sank down into the west, the night crept out from the alleyways and corners. The lamppost flickered on. Soon, he found himself still in the alleyway again, watching his old Headmaster and a large black dog walk up the alleyway. For a split moment, he wondered if the Time Turner had actually worked.

But then Sirius proved him right. Changing back into human form, his face pale as if he saw a Grim, he exclaimed, "Remus! How the hell did you get here?!"

"I missed you too, Padfoot," Lupin joked, feeling a sense of déjà vu.

Dumbledore had an expression of slight surprise. "Fancy seeing you here this time of night. I suppose you disagreed with the results of your hearing today?"

Yes, tonight was March the 13^th! He still had time!

"You'd tried to attend my hearing," Lupin verified.

"We had," Dumbledore began, "but-"

"But the guards wouldn't let you in. So you came here in an attempt to see me, but I had been taken to the dungeons," Lupin finished. Dumbledore pushed up his half-moon spectacles. It was a rare moment the Headmaster was ever interrupted. "I'm sorry," he quickly apologized. "I'm still in shock over all this, you see."

"You're not the only one!! Remus, how'd you do it?" Sirius ran up to him and grabbed his arms with both hands as if making sure he was really there. "Appearing right as we've come in! Impossible! Did you escape? Are you leaving with us?"

Lupin held up the Time Turner. "I'm not coming with you. It's all very complicated, I'm sure I can send an owl later, but I have to go back inside."

"WHAT??"

"I'll be sure to read your letters with him to help smooth out all the winkles," the Dumbledore from two weeks ago winked. "Tonight March the 13^th. Still enough time to escape back into prison, if you hurry."

The past Sirius was looking from one wizard to the other, with a look on his face that he once wore only within the walls of Azkaban: that is, slightly insane. "What the - how did - why is -?" he spluttered.

"You see, Sirius, I'm from the future," said Lupin very slowly, trying hard not to laugh at the contrast between his friend's past and future reactions. "And tonight, my past self will be kidnapped and taken to a werewolf soldier training camp. Yes, it's complicated," he tacked on, seeing the look on Sirius's face. "And... well... and I'm here now to take my place back in the dungeons so I can continue my trial without the Ministry realising I had ever left."

Sirius blinked. Then he made a funny noise, a cross between blowing a raspberry and having a punch to the gut. After several minutes, when he finally was able to speak intelligibly, the past Sirius said, "Okay. Let me get this straight. You suddenly walk out here, with a Time Turner, saying that you will escape from prison tonight, but now you - some kind of future Remus, I guess - you are here. To replace your past self. Because you still want to go to trial?"

"Yes."

"Argh!" He put both hands to his head. Lupin stood there unsurely, but he looked to see Dumbledore's reaction, and saw him mouth silently, "It'll be all right," as Sirius moaned.

"Did I hurt your brain that much?" he asked gently. "Because I know this is pretty confusing now, but you will understand-"

"It's not that! I can accept the time travel! Maybe." Sirius glared at him. "What I don't understand is why in Hades's name would you want to go back? I mean, you had escaped, didn't you? You were free! And now, if you go back to court, they'll murder you!" He grabbed Lupin's shoulders and shook him violently.

"What do you think you are?" he spat. "A masochist or something?"

"No, it's just - " He pulled away, but Sirius looked ready to jump him. Dumbledore reached out to take him by the arm, but he moved away.

Something empty and hollow echoed in his eyes that startled Lupin. "Whatever, however this works, you can't do this."

"You can't stop me this time, Sirius," Lupin said softly, standing up straighter. It was like they were back at the cave again, and he was leaving. But he was leaving him once more, wasn't he? This time. Again.

He was leaving all of them, Lupin suddenly realised. He could see the despair in Sirius's eyes. The same despair that had been coldly mirrored in Jarohnen's eyes. Or that had resonated in Claire's voice. No, it couldn't be; it couldn't be!

Damn it; he couldn't act this way; he couldn't repeat the same mistakes!

Was he only acting in circles? Was he denying everyone he knew to pursue madness? Was this the essence of time travel: to go back, again and again, but still act the same?

Now, seeing Sirius there for the first time in months and realising that this was his chance to escape, Lupin stepped back from his original plan. He couldn't repeat himself, not now... but he... he didn't have to. He could stay. He could leave. Now. Before anything more could happen. He could forget himself, forget everything. He could simply leave...

Carefully, he took Sirius's wild grip off of him. "I..." He turned to Dumbledore, who hadn't said a word about it. Dumbledore had his eyes averted, as if he didn't want to infringe of on Lupin's choice. The pocket watch hanging from his side gleamed gold in the lamplight. Time. That was the essence of everything in his journey, wasn't it?

These many months, Lupin had been trying to steal back time. Consciously or subconsciously, all of his actions were aimed at trying to relive the past. To take back lost memories that could never be retrieved.

But time can't be stolen. It can be changed, it can be warped, it can even be repeated, but time could never, never be used the same way twice.

Lupin had been a thief, but even he couldn't get away with this crime. And he had promised Mary he would never steal again.

So he decided.

"I... can't, Sirius," he whispered.

"Why?" his friend snapped.

"Because time is fate," Lupin replied.

"So what? You're talking as if you have no choice!"

"I do have a choice. My time is my own. But how I spend it; I suppose that's how I'll follow my own fate."

For a long while, they were silent: Lupin, thoughtful and sombre, and Sirius, bewildered and resentful. It wasn't a very pleasant. Finally, Dumbledore put a hand on Sirius's arm. "This is the part where we leave, Sirius." He must know that Lupin only had so much time....

"But..." He was struggling now. "But how are you going to get back in?"

"It's simple," Lupin stated matter-of-factly. "I have a friend who works inside the Ministry. Her name's Lottie Gordon."

"Lottie, eh?" Sirius demanded. "And how do you know this Lottie is going to help you break back in? I mean, she'll still think that you've never left!"

"I'll make her trust me," he said confidently.

"Oh really?" Sirius arched an eyebrow. "And what exactly is your relationship with her?"

"I used to work with her."

"Oh, now, that's a note of confidence."

"Look, you will trust me in the future, so give me some credit now."

Sirius rolled his eyes. Lupin handed the Time Turner back to Dumbledore. "Thank you."

"Don't mind me," Dumbledore said lightly. "You thank yourself. And good luck."

Chapter 36

With the Invisibility Cloak on, Lupin snuck back into Waldo's Plugs and Outlets. Darkness veiled everything; the gift shop was eerily quiet when he passed. He looked at the giant clock hanging above the counter and noted the time. Creeping up to the elevator, he said in a loud whisper, "Doun."

He descended to the depths of the Ministry. Lupin could recite Lottie's work schedule from memory, and so he knew exactly what floor she would be at to start her evening shift. The Department for Magical Law Enforcement.

The very same floor from which his past self was, being dragged off to the dungeons.

For tonight was now March 13^th. That day, Lupin had his hearing. Harper had fainted in the courtroom. And Lottie should be scrubbing the toilets.

The door to the gentleman's lavatory was propped open and a sign "Closed for cleaning" was stuck on the door. Lupin slipped off the cloak and hung it over one arm. He could hear Lottie singing wistfully to herself and loud slops as the mop hit the tile floor.

"Lookin' doun for a tide tae no return,

Is the field, where the crops no longer grow,

Parched is the land, strangled an' damned,

Thair for the Grace o' God I go..."

He didn't want to sneak up behind her and possibly frighten her, so he stood against one of the stall and whispered loudly, "Lottie!"

She stopped her mopping and raised her head. "Who goes thair?"

Lupin took a breath, then emerged from his hiding spot. "Hello."

She paled. The mop handle left her hand and gave a wooden thunk as it hit the floor. "Remus Lupin!" she gasped. "It's-it's-it's Remus Lupin!"

"Lottie Gordon," he welcomed mildly. "How are you keeping?"

Lottie backed away, slowly, her eyes growing larger and larger. "Y-you're the w-w-werewolf that's all over the p-papers," she said, voice shaking. "T-the one who attacked the Muggle lass!"

"Well, you should never trust the media nowadays," he said. "They can be quite biased."

Immediately, she grabbed her mop and flung it forward like a lance. "Get bac ye," she spat, flourishing the sudsy mop head at him. Soapy water was flung onto his clothes. "Get bac, or I'll...I'll..."

"Hold on," he said. "Just listen to me-"

"WILBUR!!!" the Squib janitor screamed, calling the night guardsman. "WILBUR, THAIR'S A WEREWOLF ON THE--UMHF!"

Lupin jumped the stout lady and clasped his hand over her mouth. Holding her close, he whispered in her ear. "Please, only listen to me for but a moment-"

She squirmed, muffled curses spewing out of her mouth. Lupin went into Douglas's voice: "Eef I wunted tae keel ye, I wunnae gun dun it by nae. Listen tae me. Dunnae ye recognize mi, Lottie-lass? 'Tis yer ol' lad Dougie Ridley."

"Doggie?" Lottie exclaimed from behind his grip.

" Aye! Nae I'll let ye go, but ye mustn't run, an' ye mustn't scream agin. Richt?"

She nodded. Lupin let her go and she tumbled out of his arms and fell on the floor. Scampering backwards until she was well away from his reach, Lottie then said in an awed voice, "I... I dunnae understand. What's goin' on here?"

"It's a long story." He sighed. "A very long story. But, I promise you, I won't bite if you just sit right here and let me have my say. Let me show you something to prove myself to you."

"Ye stay weel away," Lottie chided, still shaking. She lifted a trembling finger at him. "Keep yer proper distance."

"Fine. Now, we'll leave together. You first." Lupin gave a slight bow and pointed toward the door. Lottie sat on the floor, unmoved.

"No!" she snapped. "I'm not havin' a wolf at my bac!" So, Lupin moved out first, and then Lottie stood up with a dignified air, grabbed her bucket and her mop, and plodded past him, watching with narrow eyes as she passed.

"Go to the cubicles," he ordered. Lottie, moving shakily, obeyed him, and they both ducked into the nearest one. Lupin cornered Lottie and pulled out a chair for her to sit in.

"How do I know that I should trust you?" she asked. He could see that the fear in her eyes had not left yet, and his mind raced to think of a way to reassure her.

"Call up Wilbur."

"Wha'?"

"Call him up and ask if any newcomers are to be expected on this floor." He gestured to the phone sitting on the desk. Lottie stared at it, grabbed the receiver, and dialled the number. Lupin moved next to her and put a hand on her shoulder. "Not a word about me," he added in a firm voice. "Or else."

Lottie gulped. "Uh, yeah, hallo Wilbur," she said in a strained voice. "How are ye keepin'? I've... I've dun bitter." Her eyes flickered nervously up at Lupin. "Um, by the way, d'ye knae if anybody's supposed to be coming to the Stakeout tonicht? I've been seein' people..." She paused. "Remus Lupin? Ye... ye dunnae say..." her voice rose up a few octaves as she said that. "Werewolves... aye, dangerous creatures, they are... richt. I'll be on my guard then." A weak chuckle. "Have a good ane. Bye." She hung up.

"What did Wilbur tell you?"

"Tha' ye... tha' the guards from Nemesis had just come in wi' ye... tha' they are takin' ye doun to the dungeons..."

"Let's take a little trip then, shall we?" Lupin draped the cloak around them, and they moved back to the hallway leading to the underground holding rooms. Lupin plunked down her bucket and stuck the mop back in her hands. "Watch," he ordered.

Quickly, he moved a bit behind her. He could hear the elevator ding and the doors swing open and shut.

From behind the Invisibility Cloak, he watched coolly as the three men approached. A subtle shiver went through him upon seeing himself with the two guards. The fear and disbelief that had stirred inside him at the time, had not even shown on his face. The stone-cold reaction shocked even himself.

Lupin saw his past self meet Lottie's gaping stare. Watching her from the back now, he could see why she would turn and run.

Again, Lottie returned to him, her mouth opening and closing like some giant fish. "What- what- what-"

"That was me," he said.

"But it ain't!" she said. "Yer richt here! Ye cannae be in two places! I cannae believe this; I swear if ye try an' fool me- "

Oh no, here it goes. Lupin bit his lip. "What's the hour?"

"I swear, I'll take my mop an' shove it up yer- wha'?"

Lupin pointed to her watch.

Lottie checked. "Aboot 12."

"Midnight, eh?" He knew he'll have some explaining to do now, and it would be much harder than it would be with Sirius. "Care for some tea then?"

***

Explaining everything to Lottie Gordon had been difficult. More than difficult, really, considering that Lottie was the last person Lupin would ever think about telling her about this situation. They moved down to the Custodial Services Office for some much-needed privacy. Lupin made the tea, making his way around the cluttered room with ease to show her that he really had once worked here. He kept dropping little factoids about her life as she worked, like how she would chew only Goblinstopper Gum, and liked her tea with three sugars and five creams.

Lottie gave a nod for each one he got right, as if keeping score. She cradled her tea in her hands and let it grow cold as he talked about his true self and where he had been the last two weeks. Lupin didn't want to talk down to her, and the better part of him was willing to believe that she would be able to understand his plight without sounding condescending.

In the end, Lupin waited for her reaction. Lottie sipped her tea for the first time that hour, and asked, "So yer not goin' tae kill me?"

Lupin deadpanned, "No. I. Am. Not."

She sipped again. "Bu' after I help ye, yer not goin' tae kill me?"

"Why should I?"

She blinked, then tipped back the teacup and drank it to the dregs. Smacking her lips, she wiped her mouth of her sleeve and said, "So. Where do we start?"

They started right away. Swiftly, they made their way back to the Stakeout, the nickname for the Department for Magical Law Enforcement, and to the door to the dungeon. Lupin wore his Invisibility Cloak, and Lottie carried a lantern.

"You wait here until I bring out my light," he told her, and she nodded, mute.

Taking her lantern, he quickly ascended the stairs. His boots made great clomping noises on the stone steps. Then, about halfway down, he heard his voice:

"Mr. Harper, is that you?"

The mischievous part of him wanted to call back, "No, but you'd never guess who," but, of course, he kept his mouth shut. Making his way down into the dungeons, he found the cell where he was, put down the lantern, and put the cover down over the light.

"Who are you?" his past self asked.

Suddenly, a loud whirring sound filled the air, like Lottie's vacuum cleaner starting up. Lupin bit his tongue in anticipation of what would happen next.

The drunk man's song filled the air again, only to be muffled by Ulysses.

""Hello comrade," Jarohnen was saying. "Nice to see ya face again."

"Jarohnen?"

"Statin' the obvious: a sign that my good wolf still has his mental capacities."

It was an odd effect. Lupin could still see Jarohnen in his mind, rifle in hand. He could feel the hot sun on his skin and the dry air in his lungs. He licked his lips and tasted the Spanish dust that still clung to them.

"Three minutes!" said Ulysses.

Lupin sat down on the stone with the lantern between his knees. He could hear the commotion inside the cell, and snatches of conversation. Déjà vu overwhelmed him; he could feel his head start to pound, as if suffering from the stretch of time.

"What are you doing here?"

"You're not makin' it any easier, Comrade Remus, but then again, ya never knew. Time?"

"Two forty-five."

"What is going on?"

Lupin put his hands to his head, trying to block out the sound of himself. In the edge of his vision, he could make out Lottie standing at the top of the stairwell, braced up against the wall, unsure about what to do next.

A nasty crack of skull hitting stone stirred Lupin for his thoughts. Immediately, he touched the spot that had hit the floor and winced in memory. The pain bloomed again, and Lupin keeled forward, his face contorted.

The sounds of a struggle increased. He could feel the injuries that he suffered through; he could taste the chloroform in his mouth. He choked; he gagged. What was happening? Was this another effect of time? To suffer the same injuries over? A loud cough escaped his lips.

"Help!" Past Lupin was shouting now. "You there! Get help! Get help!"

"But I can't," Lupin whispered. "This is how it has to be."

And in a flash, they were gone. The brief moments of pain disappeared. Lupin rubbed his throat, which was now feeling a bit raw and got up, unmasking the light. Lottie trotted quickly down the steps to meet him. "Where do we go nae?"

Now to deal with the remaining man. The one with the dead eyes...

"There is..." Lupin paused. "Give me the keys."

She did and he quickly pulled open the heavy door. "Don't come in," he told her.

When he entered the cell his body swung, back and forth, back and forth. Lupin could see the back of the dead man's head, and his neck stuck out at a crooked angle. He jumped and grabbed onto the belt; it strained a bit before snapping with a loud cracking sound. Both Lupin and his dead body fell to the floor. Taking the Invisibility Cloak, he swiftly threw it over the body and tucked the cloth in. He suddenly realised that he needed new clothes; he was still dressed in his desert gear. But the thought of stripping the body made him sick, and he decided not to.

"Lottie, come here, quickly." Lupin dragged the invisible bundle out of the cell. "Help me carry this to the Incinerator."

"What is it?" she asked hesitantly.

"A body." He could see Lottie stiffen. "We have to get rid of it," he said briskly, as if disposing corpses was something he did everyday. "I threw the cloak over it, so we don't have to look."

And he didn't, oh God, he never wanted to see those dead eyes ever again...

Lottie still did not move. Lupin picked his the heavy shoulders and lifted up his half with a grunt. "Please," he said. "We must hurry."

The Squib janitor looked at Lupin, then at the empty space he seemed to hold, then at Lupin again. A struggle was going on in her mind. Lupin didn't say a word more but silently pleaded with his eyes. We have to do this; I can't have him here; this is what we have to do; you must help me...

Slowly, she said, "Which end's his feet?"

Lupin pointed, and, stolidly, Lottie picked up the invisible side. "Are we goin'?"

The climb up the long and narrow stairwell never seemed to end. After the first twenty steps, the weight of the corpse slowed them down. Lottie, as strong as she was in handling her manual tasks nightly, started to slip at her end halfway though, and they were forced to rest. Lupin could tick off the seconds in his head, watching the door above them tensely, just waiting for the night guardsmen to catch them. But there was no trouble for them, and they reached the next floor safely.

Dragging the body down the levels and over to the Incinerator was one of the most sickening acts Lupin had ever done. He could feel the body still warm in his arms. When they faltered, the body would drip low in the middle; whenever they turned corners he could make out the faint outline of an arm as if began to slip out from beneath the Cloak. He gritted his teeth and kept going.

At last, they made it to the floor where the Incinerator was. Faint traces of smoke reached his nostrils. With his second wind, Lupin and his former co-worker took the body over to the large steel door that led to the fire. Lottie swung the door open for him as Lupin rested. But as she moved past him, her arm brushed against the folds of the cloak. The hood fell away, revealing a stark white face with blank eyes.

Damn it.

Lottie stood, frozen by the opening of the Incinerator. The little colour that was in her face had fled completely, and now, she tottered unsteadily backwards.

"Tha's... tha's... tha's..."

Lupin averted his eyes. He didn't want to look anymore either. "That's not me." He said. Then, in a louder voice, he repeated, "That's not me. That's someone else. Some other poor soul."

But she put her hands between her knees, swallowing great gasps of air. "Dead..." she said in a strangled voice. "Yer dead."

Lupin shut his eyes. Desperate strength came to him, and he grabbed his impostor's body and heaved it up to the opening. He could smell the cinder and ash and fire from the Incinerator. Great plumes of thick black smoke caught in his lungs; tears stung his eyes. One last push, and the body slipped down into the chute and was gone.

He could hear the dead thing descend into the depths and evaporate in the haze of flames. The knot in his stomach turned loose, and he retched into the opening of the chute, hacking on bad air and bitter embers. Lottie hunched over behind him, her arms crossed around her torso.

The smoke, which had always smelled of ink and carbon, took on a musky scent of charred meat. Lupin stumbled away, wiping his sleeve, and made his way along the wall. He moved down the hallway, away from the toxic-smelling Incinerator. Crumpling to his knees, he pressed his face against the ground and breathed through his sleeve. Lottie made her way alongside him and plunked onto the ground. Her face had a greenish cast now.

Together, they shared a look of mutual disgust.

"Tell me it's over," Lottie said faintly.

Lupin could only nod. They sat in the hallway for what seemed to be many minutes. Then he told her: "It's over, Loretta."

And he thought to himself: That wasn't me. That wasn't me. That was Douglas Ridley with the dead eyes. And now he's gone forever.

***

Now it was morning on Monday, March 14^th. Lupin felt the odd sensation of being at Nowhere-Anywhere, but he knew better. He was back at Edinburgh, in the dungeons. It wasn't an illusion this time.

Cattails blowing in the wind. Swaying, their pulpy heads nudged against each other while in motion. Rustle of the long grass. And the cold night air with the wind and the cattails stirring with the long grass....

The drip, drip, drip of the underground. Water from the ceiling. It had been raining, and the trickling water came from the puddles in the city streets, far above his head. The air was damp and it felt like a coating of sludge was mixed into the atmosphere, leaving invisible clots he could feel as he breathed. "There will be a man named Dominic," Lupin said. "He'll offer you a drink. Have as much as you want, but remember to tell him that I'm still locked up. It's essential that you do so."

Lottie's face turned ghostly in the lantern light. She stood on her tiptoes, clinging to the ledge of the little barred horizontal slit in the heavy door. He could see the ends of her fingers, like fat grubs, sticking over the ledge. "An' how came ye knou such things?" came her voice from the other side.

A crooked smile crossed his face. "Let's say that I've been living a double life for so long, it simply comes to me."

She nodded, and took the lantern up from the ground. He could hear her steps as she moved away. Lupin knew that they both shared a secret now, a deep one, but one that she would never betray. Now tonight, when Dominic will take her to the Flying Leviathan for some drinks, Lottie will tell him that Lupin was still in prison, as if he had never left. And she would possibly get completely smashed, and laugh him out of the bar, and do anything she would like. But now Lupin was working with time, and soon, everything would settle into place.

He crossed his arms over the new set of jail robes Lottie had filched for him. They were a size too big for him, but they would do.

A second set of footsteps echoed in the dank dungeon, and Lupin saw his barrister and a guardsman run into Lottie. Through the bars, he watched as both of them jumped back a bit, startled as each of their thoughts was interrupted.

"Sorry!" the barrister and the Squib exclaimed and shied away from each other.

"Didn't mean tae run intae ye," Lottie said quickly, stepping back.

"No, I should be sorry. Couldn't see you," Harper replied awkwardly.

"Oh weel, 'tis nuthin' much. When yer this short, the Big Anes tend to overlook ye anyways."

A brief laugh. "I've seen you somewhere before, though, right?" A pause. "Hey, you're the night janitor here, aren't you?"

"Why, yes. Nae, if ye don't mind, it's a bit late for me. I'm headin' out."

"Oh, right." Harper stuck out his hand. "Samuel Harper, by the way." He looked slightly confused.

"Loretta Gordon. Or Lottie, if ye prefer."

"Lottie, okay. Um, nice talking to you."

"I'm sure it was. G'morning." She quickly scuffled away and went back up the stairwell. Lupin wasn't sure if it was the lantern light, but he thought he saw a faint blush cross her plump cheeks. He smiled.

Harper was a bit ruffled as he came up to talk to him.

"Good morning, Mr. Lupin," Samuel Harper greeted. He appeared rather pale, but otherwise in good form. Making a gesture toward the door, Harper directed the guardsman, who took out a large set of keys to unlock it. They made small talk as they climbed the stairs back up to the Department for Magical Law Enforcement and entered a private conference room.

Sitting down at the table across from Lupin, Harper gave a nod to the security guard and he stepped out, giving them some time alone.

"Mr. Harper, I thought I'd never seen you again, after last time."

Harper fished out a cigarette from his pocket. "I thought so too," he said, lighting up. Lupin didn't comment, but Harper hastily said, "I'm cutting down, honestly."

"You heard about my beast status, though..."

Both of them knew that beasts don't have Ministry-provided representation. "As soon as I regained consciousness and coherent thought, yes." Harper blew out a small cloud and propped an elbow on the table. Lupin noticed how comfortable Harper seemed with him than before.

"It's the oddest thing, really," he began conversationally. "Albus Dumbledore paid me a visit while I was at the hospital. Albus Dumbledore! I haven't seen him since I got out of Hogwarts, but he said that you were an old friend and all. I remembered him being your guardian too for awhile, when you were younger."

Lupin nodded, recalling that as a piece of evidence Harper had cited during the hearing.

"I told him that I wasn't sure if I was still your barrister, until he pointed out the most remarkable thing." Harper grinned. "He mentioned how all beasts put on trial in front of the Committee for the Disposal of Dangerous Creatures must have its owner to represent them. By definition, the closest thing to an owner you have is Mr. Dumbledore-"

Lupin smiled to himself, simply because only a person like Harper would use the title "Mr." with Dumbledore.

"- and so he is responsible for speaking on your behalf during the trial," Harper continued without notice. "But since he can't take the time to defend you properly, he asked if I could do it for him."

He took out a piece of parchment and pushed it forward. "I could still represent you by the 'owner's' request. Only if you wanted," he added quickly. "You don't have to. Anyone else can step in. It, just, well, if you would like me back..."

"Do you have a quill on you then?"

"Oh, oh!" Harper fumbled a bit and offered a feather. Without a pause, Lupin signed the document and handed it back to him.

Harper tried to keep his expression neutral, but Lupin could tell he was quite pleased. "Thank you, Mr. Lupin. Of course, I suppose you have no choice in the matter, but really, I'm flattered - representing a friend of Mr. Dumbledore's, and all - why, I mean, you can always change your mind - "

"But for now, I can't think of a better person to represent me, Mr. Harper."

" - I'll get started right now then. You must have had a horrible time, cooped up underground like that. It was only for the full moon, really, why you were put there."

"Things were pretty quiet around here," he commented.

"Bet you wouldn't believe everything that happened to me," Harper confessed. "I was nearly on my deathbed. Never trust Muggle medicines ever again, I'll tell you that much." He paused for a moment in reflection. "Really now, I don't see how much worse off you were compared to me these last two weeks."

"You'd be surprised, Mr. Harper," Lupin replied with wry grin. "Quite surprised."

Wolf by Ears will continue...