Carnival of Dark and Dangerous Creatures

A/N: Thanks and gratitude to SortingHat47 for her suggestions and comments, and for being with me throughout this journey; and for Zarathustra, the fabulous beta, who graciously surrenders her time and talents to make my grammar, punctuation, and Brit-speak look good and read well!

Chapter 1: The Werewolf Hunter

Monday, 6 May 1985 -- 3:42 p.m.

Remus' fingertips brushed the spines of the books lightly, reverently. The smell of the bookshop permeated his senses, soothing him as nothing else could. Leather, ink, even mouldy paper -- it was the best aromatherapy he could recommend for himself. He reached the end of one shelf, and continued around the other side, letting his fingers trail behind him, practically caressing the age-stained wood. The book he was looking for had to be around here somewhere.

A title of a well-loved book caught his eye, and he paused to consider it. With a sigh, he shook his head and continued on. It was too difficult for his two little pupils to read at this time. Maybe in a few months...

Ah, now this one was a likely prospect. He gently tugged the book from its place and let it fall open. The illustrations would appeal to Dominic, the nine-year-old, and the text was not too challenging for Isabelle, the six-year-old. And, even better, the cost was a few sickles cheaper than he would have expected to pay. He smiled with satisfaction as he closed the book and continued his search.

Several minutes, and several books, later, Remus heard a soft, but insistent clearing of the throat. Since he was now seated on the floor, his eyes first focused on legs and were drawn upwards until he recognized Candace, the youngest clerk at the booksellers.

"Mr Lupin, it's time for me to close up," she told him, with an apologetic smile.

"Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't realize it was so late." Remus scrambled to his feet.

"Not to worry." Her smile became a little wider. "I know what it's like to get lost in a book."

"Yes, well, Mr Bartholomew would have tossed me out some time ago." Remus hurriedly, but gently, replaced the book on the shelf.

"Have you found something you like, then?" she asked, pointing to the stack of books on the floor next to where he had been sitting.

"As a matter of fact, I have." Remus sorted through the pile and handed her three that he felt were perfect for his students.

Candace glanced at the titles, and smiled her approval. "I remember these from when I was a child."

"So do I." Remus pointed to the topmost book. "I remember my mother reading this to me when I was four." His eyes had a mischievous gleam in them as he added: "I think she read it to me twenty times in three days."

They shared a chuckle, and then Remus started to shelve another book.

Candace touched his arm lightly. "Oh, no, Mr Lupin, I'll take care of that tomorrow morning."

Remus shrugged. "If you're sure..."

"Yes, I'm sure. Let's get these books written up for you."

She led him to the front of the store, to the tall maple reception desk that had stood there for one hundred years, if it had been a day. Remus always found it fascinating. No amount of polishing or buffing spells could completely smooth out its surface. Initials and names were etched in the tops and sides closest to the customers. On the clerks' side, orders that had been written on thin paper had drilled right through into the soft wood of the tabletop, leaving details of long ago transactions. One of Remus' favourites was an order that started, "One (1) book, Poetry for Wooing and Winning Witches". His favourite signature was one that read, "Simon -- Bored to tears waiting for John -- 1960".

Candace knew of his interest in the desk, and paused in writing up the receipt to lean over and point down to Remus' right. "There's one down there that I just found," she said. "It's quite cute. No, further down, just a little -- yes, somewhere around there."

"Ah." Remus could see exactly which one she meant. Someone had written, "O.T.", and had made a smiley face out of the O. The smiley was animated, though, and kept sticking its tongue out at Remus.

"That's an interesting use for that charm," Remus laughed. "And someone took a bit of time to do this."

"I think it was Olivia Thornton," Candace said. "She's a clever girl, and she was in here for quite a while the other day, waiting for the rain to stop. Alright, that'll be three, six and two."

It was a shorthand she used in the shop, but only when Mr Bartholomew wasn't there. Remus couldn't understand the old man's distaste if of leaving out the words "Galleons," "Sickles," and "Knuts," though Candace had whispered to him that it was because Mr Bartholomew liked to hear how much he was making with each sale. He counted out his money and waited for Candace to wrap the books in brown paper.

"Oh, Mr Lupin, I nearly forgot --" Candace motioned for him to wait and retreated into the little office behind her. She had three books in her hand when she returned. "I know you like books about creatures and such. I found these and wondered if maybe you'd be interested."

A warm smile spread across the young man's face as he took them, and Candace blushed.

Remus was too busy looking down at the titles to notice her reaction. The first one he had already, and he told her so. "I recommend it if you don't mind having nightmares for weeks. The author has only one purpose -- to keep everyone from sleeping."

She giggled.

"Ah, I've only heard of this one," Remus said, considering the second one. He leafed quickly through it. Did he have the money today? Regretfully, he handed it to her. "I'd love to have this one, but, unfortunately, today..." He hesitated.

She seemed to understand immediately. "Oh, it's no problem. If you'd really like it, I could save it back for you until the next time."

He caught his bottom lip between his teeth for a moment before nodding. "If it's no trouble..."

"No trouble at all."

She really had pretty eyes. Deep brown, like dark chocolate.

The third book -- surprised him. He stared at it for a long moment before the fact that she was speaking registered.

"I didn't know if werewolves were anything you were interested in or not," Candace was saying. "But I thought, seeing as they're creatures and all..."

He cleared his throat. "Yes, you'd think I would be, wouldn't you?" He opened the book to a random page and began to read: "Werewolves in their human form can be readily identified by a sickly appearance up to a week before the full moon and..." He clapped the book shut and gave it back to her. "I have enough books about werewolves, I believe. It was very nice of you to think of me, though."

Again, her cheeks coloured. "I like to keep my eyes out for things that I think my... friends... will like."

Would she still consider him a friend if she knew he knew all the information in the werewolf book intimately? He felt a surge of anger and frustration. If only... then he'd be able to take her to dinner, maybe even fall in... No. He jerked his emotions back into line. "Thank you," he said quietly. He didn't allow himself to look into her eyes. Instead, he told her he'd be back in about a week to buy the other book, and then left the store.

Remus checked his watch and decided he had time for an ice cream at Florean Fortescue's before going to the apothecary's. The size of the crowd at Fortescue's almost made him reconsider, but as he drew closer, a couple rose from their table and left. No one else claimed the table, so Remus laid his books on the table and sat down. A young wizard rushed to clear away the dishes left from the previous customers.

"Sorry 'bout this, sir," he told Remus. "We're just a bit short-handed today."

"No problem." As Remus waited for the waiter to finish cleaning the table, he opened the package and pulled out one of the books. He could start planning his lessons for Dominic while he ate.

"I remember that book!"

Startled by the waiter's exclamation, Remus looked up. The teenager's smile was infectious. "Yes?"

"Yes! I loved that book. Especially the part where Ardis and Stanley finally meet the Grand Wizard of Pulla Pulla, and they --"

"Jerry!" The dishes in the teenager's hands rattled, threatening to fall. Florian Fortescue himself was suddenly beside the boy, grabbing one of the sundae glasses and steadying it. "You can discuss books later. For now, however..."

Jerry scurried off, and Fortescue smiled apologetically at Remus. As the proprietor started to go on to chastise another employee, his eyes fell across the title of the book. "Oh, is that what Jerry was talking about? I loved --" He caught himself in mid-sentence, and laughed ruefully. "I suppose I'm no better than Jerry when I see a book I enjoyed as a boy." He continued on his way, chuckling, to set the other employee to work.

Jerry returned to take his order, and soon, a bowl of creamy ice cream swimming in rich fudge and even richer caramel was placed in front of the young teacher. Remus propped the book up against the pole of the umbrella shade and proceeded to devour frozen treat and words with equal enjoyment.

A flash of Ministry robes out of the corner of his eye caught his attention, and he focused on the badge: Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. He nearly snarled aloud when he realized it was Walden Macnair: ugly moustache and all. The man was seating himself three tables away from Remus; but who was he with? The two families separating Remus from Macnair prevented the werewolf from identifying the other man.

Remus took another bite of ice cream and thoughtfully sucked on the spoon while scanning the other tables. There was a trick to watching someone: don't keep your eyes fastened in one place for too long; pretend you were thinking about something, anything else; be casual. And, if he laid his book on the table, like so, and shifted just a bit, ah yes. There was Macnair, perfectly in his line of vision. The other man had his back to Remus.

Sitting here like this made him remember an afternoon -- the summer before Lily and James had died--when he had followed Macnair through the streets of the East End. There were rumours the man was a Death Eater, but there had been no evidence yet to support the claim. Remus had tailed him through alleys and down streets that a young man new to the Ministry, like Macnair, should have nothing to do with. He had nearly led Remus into a trap, but werewolf sensitivity had come to play: a scent, a whisper, and the scrape of a boot sole against concrete... Remus had been able to Apparate safely away without exposing himself to even one hex, but James and Sirius had still given him hell for going alone.

But that was four years ago. James and Sirius couldn't give him hell now if he followed Macnair right into the Ministry itself. Not that he intended to go that far...

The moustached man that Remus was surreptitiously watching abruptly rose. The other man did as well, extending a hand. As Macnair reached to shake his companion's hand, Remus just barely glimpsed a flash of white in the Ministry employee's hand. Parchment? He forced himself to remain relaxed, deliberately turning another page in the book and scraping some of the gooey sweetness from the bottom of the bowl still in front of him. When he risked another glance from beneath his eyelashes, the other man's hand was in a pocket of his robes, and Macnair was already starting to walk away from the table.

The other man turned slightly, and seemed to be checking to see if the exchange had been noticed. Remus' forehead furrowed before he could stop himself. The man looked familiar, and by the way his inner wolf's hackles were rising, it wasn't for a good reason. Where had he seen this man? He concentrated on reading a page from the book to get his control back. What could the paper have been? Hells, it could be something as innocent as a girl's name and Floo address. But just the way it had been tucked so deeply into Macnair's hand...

Remus realized that the man at the other table had sat back down in the chair and was motioning to a passing waiter. Setting his jaw in determination, Remus caught Jerry's eye as the teenager bustled past.

"Could I trouble you for a quick glass of water, Jerry?" Remus asked. "That caramel is so thick, it sticks in your throat."

"No problem, sir," Jerry replied. Again, he hurried off to do Remus' bidding. A house elf couldn't do better.

Damn it. Why was that man familiar?

Jerry walked by, placing a small glass by his right hand, and Remus dared to look up to thank the younger man. It was then he noticed another man coming towards Fortescue's -- directly to the table where Macnair had been. The werewolf rubbed the back of his neck as the man sat down. There was no smiling or shaking of hands, so it wasn't as if they were old friends who just happened to meet. These were two men who knew each other, worked together perhaps, who had planned this meeting. Remus propped his cheek on his fist, holding the book up so that it looked as if he was absorbed in the pages. The two men were deep in conversation.

Think, Remus, think!

A waiter approached the new arrival, but he shook his head. Not ordering anything, so they obviously weren't planning on staying much longer. Where would they go after this? Remus wondered.

He found himself resorting to another trick he'd learned in the Order: how to be ready to go as soon as your quarry ran without it looking obvious. Remus had mastered and perfected it. He caught Jerry's eye as the teenager moved among the other tables. One long finger, one quick gesture, was all it took to get Jerry's nod and the check.

"Hope you don't mind if I pay before I finish," Remus said with a friendly smile. "I have a tendency to forget to pay if my nose gets buried too deeply in a book."

Jerry laughed and ran for change.

One of the two families between Remus' table and the one he had been observing got up, and with a great deal of noise and bother, scooped up their packages, preparing to leave. The familiar-looking man glanced over at them, obviously irritated. Remus narrowly avoided meeting the man's gaze. The man had dark eyes. Hard eyes.

Where had he seen those eyes? Damn it!

He could feel his heart thumping almost painfully. What had he been doing when he had seen those eyes? The man was too old for them to have been at Hogwarts together. Had he been a Death Eater? No, that wasn't it. But there was something that made Remus think of death...Oh shit.

Remus gulped down the rest of his water, half-wishing it were Firewhiskey.

He remembered. He remembered Sirius slapping the Daily Prophet down in front of him one day in their last year at Hogwarts. He had read the title that Sirius was pointing to, and looked up with curiosity and a bit of fear.

"Why are you showing me this?"

"Know thy enemies, Moony, my lad, know thy enemies."

"You're sick, Black. Especially since the closest I've come to one of these men was because of you."

Sirius had agreed, and had apologized again. But he tore off the front page and hung it on the wall next to Remus' bed. And though it gave him nightmares for three nights running, Remus had left it up, because, somehow, he wondered if Sirius wasn't right, that he should know these men--the four top werewolf hunters in Europe. And Macnair, from the Department of Magical Creatures, had just handed a piece of paper to one of those men in a most furtive way. Shit! Are there werewolf names on that list? Is my name on that fucking piece of paper?

He saw Jerry returning with his change. Another quick gesture told the teenager that the change was his. Then Remus wrapped the books back up and sealed the package shut with a whispered charm. One last glance at the two men told him they were still intent on their conversation, so hopefully they wouldn't notice if a werewolf happened to casually stroll away from the ice cream parlour.

He took long strides to the Apothecary, occasionally pretending to window shop so he could watch behind him. No one seemed to be following him, but he wasn't ready to congratulate himself yet.

"You've done nothing wrong," he reminded himself. "They can't legally do anything to you." But in the back of his mind were the horror stories that his parents had known but hadn't told him until he was older. There were the stories he himself had read in the Prophet, or in books. There were the things that Sirius had heard and related to him, stories passed down from one Black generation to another. And none of the stories had anything good to say. Charges could be falsified; the wrong man -- wrong werewolf -- accused and condemned. Anything was possible, depending on the creativity of the werewolf hunter. Remus massaged the back of his neck, feeling the sweat forming at the nape.

Only one other time had he come face to face with a werewolf hunter, and that was right in the midst of the war, when his efforts with the werewolves had come under Voldemort's scrutiny. He had dodged a silver bullet that night, and it had shaken him to the core. He remembered going to Godric's Hollow and drinking heavily, though he hadn't told his friends why. He should have. They would have... He stopped the thought with a shake of his head. It didn't matter what they would have done. It didn't matter what he should have done. His only concern at this moment was to get to the Apothecary and get back to the Alatzas' before dinner.

He conducted his business at the Apothecary as calmly as he could. Fortunately, he had plenty of experience at that. He leaned nonchalantly against the counter so he could still see the front door and anyone who might happen by while he chatted idly with the older man behind the counter. He sucked on a peppermint drop from a bowl on the counter and handed another to a little girl who couldn't reach the bowl. The mother smiled at him as he did so, and he squashed the thought that she wouldn't smile at him like that if she only knew...

He smiled pleasantly as he paid for his items, exchanging final items of chitchat about the weather and the chances of Puddlemere United.

Acting composed helped him to feel that way, so he was unprepared when he stepped out of the shop.

Bloody HELL!

Remus was so stunned, he almost swore aloud. Too much of his life spent suppressing emotion, however, kept his mouth shut and got his feet moving. He took a quick left and headed to the Leaky Cauldron, away from the werewolf hunter, who was coming down the street with his companion from Fortescue's. Was it coincidence that they were coming this way? Nearly everyone did come this way at some point or another. The image of that bit of parchment in Macnair's hand, or whatever it was, taunted Remus cruelly.

Inside the Leaky Cauldron, Tom motioned towards a table, but Remus shook his head with a friendly wave. He continued on and out onto Charing Cross Road and into the crowd of Muggle Londoners. He took strides that were as long as possible, weaving around the shoppers and workers heading home, until he reached the head of a narrow alley that looked likely to serve his purpose. God only knew what was down the alley, but Remus was desperate enough to take his chance with whatever he might come face to face with. The alley turned to the left, leading behind the buildings fronting Charing Cross. Remus followed it, casting a wary eye around. Nothing. No people, no animals, not even a pigeon. With a small sigh of relief, he Disapparated.

Tuesday, 7 May--6:52 a.m.

There weren't many people with whom Remus communicated on a personal basis. He did some work for some researchers, but for the most part he had severed himself as much as he could from anyone who might have known him from -- well, before. He had apparently done a fine job of it. He had taken a perverse delight when he had run into a girl he had known from Hogwarts, and she had looked startled and declared she had thought him dead at the Death Eaters' hands. Occasionally, Dumbledore or Alastor Moody would send him a note to ask how he was. Remus wondered, a bit resentfully perhaps, whether Dumbledore made his efforts because he pitied Remus, and if Moody was only trying to keep tabs on a werewolf who was just barely staying compliant with the Werewolf Registry.

Now he was glad that Moody had kept the lines of communication open. Otherwise, he'd never have dared to write to the veteran Auror to ask him about the werewolf hunter he'd seen in Diagon Alley, and to tell him of Macnair's actions.

An owl bearing an official looking envelope appeared at Remus' window the next morning before he'd even had the chance to get out of bed. Obviously peeved because it took several taps to wake the young man, the owl nipped at his fingers before hopping in and fluttering awkwardly to perch on the footboard of the bed and drop a Ministry envelope on the floor. There was another piece of parchment tied to the owl's leg.

"Sorry!" Remus snapped. "If I'd have known you were going to be here so early, I'd have left the bloody window open." The owl gave him a sceptical glance. An owl treat convinced the bird to allow Remus near him without a supercilious glare. A second one allowed Remus to stroke the owl's head. The second message was gained with the third.

"If you hang about, I'll probably have a reply," Remus told the owl. "And I'll have a tastier bit of breakfast, too."

The owl hooted quietly and settled back, closing its eyes.

Remus unrolled the parchment and scanned it quickly.

"Lupin--I have confirmed that Bernard Carmichael is in London, but I haven't heard why. The fact that Macnair was meeting with him makes me worry, so I'm not surprised it might make you downright panicky. Keep vigilant until Carmichael moves on. Stay in crowded areas, and don't, DON'T, for Merlin's sake, do anything that the Registry or Capture Unit might find upsetting. Moody."

The young man released a deep breath of frustration. This was nothing he hadn't already known, damn it. But he wasn't panicky, was he? If he wasn't panicking, why hadn't he opened the Ministry's letter yet? His heart beat heavily in his chest as he carefully opened the envelope. He scanned it quickly, feeling his fears fade away but his irritation grow. "...like to inform you that the werewolf, Remus J. Lupin... is scheduled for an annual interview and inspection, 22 May 1985..." Damn, damn, and damn! Dominic and Isabelle's parents had arranged a trip to Greece from the first full week of May to mid-June, and had announced that Remus would be going along with them. He hadn't even thought of the damned annual appointment. Could he reschedule? He wondered if they'd let him. What was Carmichael doing in London?

He grabbed Moody's letter and scrawled beneath the Auror's cramped script: "Have an appt. for Registry annual on 22 May. Think they'll let me reschedule and stay in Greece instead?"

He dressed quickly and took the steps at the back of the house to the kitchen. This allowed him to avoid the dining room for now, and to cajole a few strips of bacon from the cook. He returned to his room, bribed the owl with a slice of bacon into accepting the parchment, and then shooed the bird off. He sat back in a comfortable armchair in the corner, making bets with himself that Moody would no doubt be vigilant with a return reply. No matter how soon the owl came back, though, Remus had too much time to think, putting together possibilities and probabilities and not liking any of it.

Indeed, in just a few minutes, the owl returned. He looked slightly disgruntled until Remus held up a second strip of bacon.

"Lupin, you're a bleeding idiot if you're even considering it. If your employer is behind it all, he could probably get you out of the country, but he can't help you if you miss that appointment. Can't you just Floo back for the day?"

"I suppose I could. Who wouldn't want to leave warm, sunny Greece for wet, rainy, foggy London? Especially for an appointment in which one has to account for every minute of every full moon, and every scar." He was too frustrated to realize how bitter he sounded. "Can you find out if Carmichael is supposed to be at the Ministry for the annuals?"

The owl was definitely miffed this time, and Remus sacrificed two more pieces of bacon to appease him. He didn't expect the owl to return, so he tidied his clothes, ran a comb through his hair and headed down the grand front stairway to the dining room.

Dominic greeted him with an excited shout. "Mr Lupin! You have an owl!"

Sure enough, Moody's owl was perched on the back of his usual chair, hooting gratefully at Isabelle, who was holding out a kipper.

Remus ignored the bird's greedy gobbling and unrolled the parchment. "I don't like the path your mind takes sometimes, Lupin. I'll check on Carmichael. I'll also make myself available while you're here on the 22nd. What time is your appointment?"

"Is there a problem, Mr Lupin?" Mrs. Alatza asked, watching Remus take the letter to a little desk in the corner.

"Oh, no, Mrs Alatza, not at all. I mean, well," Gods, he sounded as if he were an idiot. "There is a small problem. I have an appointment on the twenty-second of May, and there's no way I can break it."

"But we'll be in Greece!"

"I know. I can explain that to them, but it seems there's nothing I can do about it. Do you think I could Floo from there to here for that day? I should be able to return that evening."

She looked flustered, which was typical for any time that she was asked to make a decision on her own. "I don't know, Mr Lupin. I suppose we'll have to consult Mr Alatza."

Remus offered a nod in acknowledgment and turned to reach for the quill and ink. "You, of all people, should know they expect me there at 9, and they'll see me when they have time. Don't worry. It should be fairly crowded there, and I'll be vigilant."

He again sent the owl off and seated himself for breakfast. He and Dominic started discussing plans for the day when the owl suddenly returned. Remus' eyebrows lowered. What more was there to say? The bird was certainly wondering, because he again nipped at Remus' finger, drawing blood this time. The man barely resisted cursing aloud and hexing the creature into next week. "Bet you didn't do that to Alastor," he mumbled. The owl preened and hooted.

"Don't be flippant, boy. I'll be around to keep an eye on you." In a moment of what Remus shockingly realized to be something like fatherly affection, Moody had added, "Be a shame if we lost you now, after all you've been through. Especially to that slimy git Macnair and some bastard werewolf killer."

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