Phases

Phases Chapter One: Exploring Danger (Full Moon)

Remus hated staying in the nursery during thunderstorms. Especially when they were as spectacular as this one. A storm like this would be the perfect time to see electrical currents. Thom, the cook's son, had told him about electricity, and how Muggles discovered it by threading kite string through the eye of a key and flying the kite in the storm. Thom said the lightning could hit the kite, pass down the string, and into the key, and make a spark. Remus wanted to see that.

The lightning lashed down at the earth through Remus's window. It was far too late to leave the nursery, but Madam Glendower wouldn't know. She was fast asleep in her quarters. Remus slipped out of bed-he had only been allowed to leave the cribs across the hall quite recently-and very quietly opened the door to his bedroom. He was too young yet to have a real room, on the same floor as Mother and Father, but when he was allowed, he would pick out the room directly underneath the one he used now. He could see the garden, the forest, and the gate, all from his windows. Plus, the back stairs were just across the corridor from his corner room. He checked outside his door on the dark and quiet corridor, the snores of his sleeping governess resounding faintly from the next bedroom. He ducked back inside, grabbing a pair of shoes, and ran barefoot to the servants' stairs to climb in search of Thom.

At nearly five years old, Remus Lupin, only son of the sixth Lord Aethenum, had thoroughly explored his home. He knew the nursery intimately, of course, but also the servants' secret staircases and passages, the crawlspaces between the servants' quarters and the roof, the Floo network connecting all the house's fireplaces, and of course the hedge maze, the stables (now half garage), and the lawns. And the woods. He loved the woods.

So it was no particular trouble to him to find Thom in the warren of servants' rooms above the family wing. They only had four servants who weren't house-elves, and another three who were. His father had let most of the staff go, since they didn't really have big parties much anymore.

Remus crept into Thom's room just as a flash of lightning illuminated the boy's bed, followed very shortly by a loud clap of thunder.

'Thom!' Remus whispered. 'Thom, come on. Wake up!' Thom stirred. 'There's a great big storm, Thom. Can we try the kite? And the key? Please?'

Thom, who was only seven, but an authority on practically everything, sat up laboriously. 'What?'

'It's raining, Thom. Loads. Have you got a kite?' Remus produced an old metal skeleton key - probably, from the look of it, a key nicked from one of the closed wings - from his dressing gown pocket. Clearly he had taken it some time ago and had been waiting for an opportunity to use it.

The boy's excitement was infectious. Thom's tiny room glowed again with another flash of lightning, and the thunder followed it almost immediately. 'Holy Hannibal,' Thom said reverently. 'It's almost on top of us.' He kicked his legs free of his blankets and hastily pulled on a pair of trousers. 'If we're going to make it, we'd better hurry.'

The two children edged their way through the darkened, sleeping house. They took the back stairs straight down to the kitchens, letting themselves out the back door into the expanse of grounds between the Park and its surrounding forest. The wind and rain began slicing through them the moment they stepped out of doors. Bending into the storm, Thom led them to the gardener's shed. There he pulled out an old kite he had flown earlier that spring, and some string to go with it. They passed the string through the key and went running back into the rain.

The wind was far too rough for their sport. Thom, larger and stronger, held the string and instructed Remus to run with the kite. Because his shouts could barely be heard above the gale, he had to communicate to Remus by gesturing with his arms. But no sooner did Remus begin running with the kite than the wind whipped up, tugging the kite this way and that and whipping it around like a sail. Next to its violent thrashing, Remus was little more than a feather in the wind. He couldn't keep his grip for more than a few seconds before the kite twisted and blew right out of his tiny hands. Thom was not so lucky; he held on a little longer, and the line burned his hands cruelly before he could think to release it. Howling in pain, Thom held his hands up to the rain to cool them.

'Where's the kite?' Remus asked, running back to him. They were both soaked as could be, but too exhilarated to care.

'I think it went into the trees,' Thom said, pointing to a square patch of cloth in the branches of a tree on the edge of the forest. 'Think you can climb up and get it?' he asked, showing Remus his hands.

'Yes,' Remus told him confidently, and they ran to the forest to retrieve it before the wind blew it away again.

Beyond the tree line, the branches tempered the wind, but they could still whip back and forth at random and smack or bite on their own. At least the early summer leaves provided a meagre shelter from the downpour. Lightning flashed; thunder rumbled deafeningly a second or so later.

'I think the storm is starting to pass us,' Thom said as Remus identified the tree he needed to climb.

'It's here,' he said to Thom, tugging on the boy's drenched sleeve. He pointed up at an elm with many knots and some low branches. The white diamond shape of the kite reflected the lightning. They could just see the string wrapped around a branch, the knot Thom had made around the key caught in the thick leaves. 'Can you boost me up?'

Thom made a stirrup with his laced fingers, and Remus took off his shoes so that the soles wouldn't hurt Thom's palms worse. 'When we get back,' he said, 'I'll find some of Mother's quick-salve.' He reached for a branch, caught it, and hoisted a leg over it. 'That should fix your hands up by tomorrow.' He found a likely knot on the tree and stood on it to make his next move, glancing down to check his progress.

Thom was gone.

'Thom?' he called hesitantly. 'Thom?' A little more urgently. He looked all around the tree trunk. There was no sign of the boy. Remus looked up at the kite, then down at the ground again, torn between his original mission and the need to find his companion.

Then he saw a flicker of light further into the forest. It winked on and off, but he couldn't tell whether it was approaching or getting further away. A burst of lightning illuminated the trees around him, and he saw Thom following the light. He screamed the boy's name, but his cry was swallowed by a crash of thunder.

'Thom!' he yelled again, abandoning the kite and trying to climb back down. 'Thom! Where are you going?' he asked. He lowered himself onto the last branch and, hanging from it, dropped to the forest floor. He underestimated the drop, though, and bounced, landing the second time not on his feet, but on his rump. Ignoring the mud that covered him where he landed, he scrambled up and looked for the twinkle of light again. There.

He struck off into the forest, pumping his short legs rapidly to catch up with Thom. He didn't know what the light was-a firefly, or a winking lantern perhaps-but he had a bad feeling, and he didn't want to be separated from Thom.

'Remus!' He heard the older boy call him as he got closer, still crying out the other's name in the hope he would stop. 'Over here! I think I see something,' he explained.

'I do, too!' Remus shouted back. Another flash illuminated the rain lashing against the canopy of trees. Remus counted to three before the thunder boomed over their heads. 'The storm is passing!' he said for no particular reason. He was cold, wet, and getting tired. He wanted to collect Thom and get back inside where it was warm.

'Come on, Remus!' Thom ordered. 'I think it's a house.'

Remus found his way through the woods to where Thom stood waiting for him. The light up ahead blinked and moved.

'It can't be....' Remus said. 'It's going back and forth, see?' He tugged on Thom's wet sleeve. 'I don't like it. Let's go home.'

'But...'

'Let's go home,' Remus said again sagely. But Thom shook him off.

'No, I want to find out what it is.' Thom took several steps forward, but the muddy ground gave way under him. With a surprised shout, he sank in up to his knees. 'Ugh! Marsh.' He tried to step out, but the ground was too soft. 'Remus, give me your hand.'

Remus grabbed the boy's hand, but he was too small and light to offer any leverage. Thom began to sink slowly. 'Uh-oh....' He looked around him at the quagmire, and fear began to overtake him along with the mud.

'Hang on,' Remus said, casting about for a dead tree branch long enough to give him something to pull on, but not too heavy for him to lift. He found one and held it out.

But the rain had made it too slippery. Thom's hands, already injured from the thin cord holding the kite, slipped on the bark and made him wince in pain. 'No good!' he shouted, looking up with panic in his eyes. 'Remus, get help. Quick!' He sank another inch. The mud was halfway up his thighs now.

'There's no time!' Remus screamed back. Dimly he realised he hadn't seen any lightning for a while. It was still raining, but not very hard. But even without the storm, it would take too long to go back to the house and wake someone, and Thom was sinking fast. He had to do something. Now.

Without really knowing why, Remus reached out and tugged on Thom's wrists as hard as he could. He gingerly took a step onto the edge of the boggy ground, but the mud held his lighter frame. It sucked at his bare toes and made squelching noises as he pulled. Thom clung to him and tried to climb him, but the extra weight made Remus start to sink as well. Remus panicked. With his hands under Thom's shoulders, he jumped backward.

They flew out of the mud like a cork escaping a champagne bottle. The popping sound as they left the bog was louder in Remus's ears than any of the thunder they'd heard that night. He had the brief sensation of freefall before he slammed against a tree trunk, the impact forcing the breath out of his lungs. Still clutching each other, the boys fell to muddy, but solid, earth.

'Holy Moses,' Thom said as he rolled onto his back, breathing heavily. 'That was close.'

'Uh-huh,' Remus agreed. It was the first time he'd really done magic all on his own, without either of his parents' wands or someone like Madam Glendower there to guide him. But he had done it. He began to shake with adrenaline and cold. Every drop of rain that made its way through the trees now felt like an icy needle inside his dressing down collar. 'Let's go home,' he said to Thom. 'Can we go home?'

'Yeah,' Thom agreed, picking himself up and offering a hand to Remus. 'Wonder what time it is?'

They trudged back through the forest and into the clearing. The trees protected them from the rain somewhat, but both boys were shivering with cold, wet, and shock when they emerged.

The storm had moved, but a light rain continued to soak into the sward surrounding the large mansion. Without the black clouds overhead, they could see the sky turning light with dawn. They could also see several people running out into the rain to catch them up and bring them inside.

From the scolding that met them, Remus and Thom learned that their absence had been discovered, but that the inhabitants of the Park had still been searching the house itself before looking on the grounds or in the forest. Remus's father, Julius Lupin, had been just about to go out to the woods with Mr Greenlaw, the groundskeeper, and Mr Church, the constable, when someone spotted the boys returning and the search was cancelled.

Remus's mother and Madam Glendower made them strip right in the kitchen. Thom's mother boiled soup for them to drink and Tinny, one of the elves, brought hot water to scrub them clean and hot towels to rub them dry. Thom's mother absorbed herself in the tender loving care of making them safe and warm again, and Mrs Lupin administered a dose of Pepper-up each to prevent catching cold. But all the while, despite all their parents' obvious relief at finding them again, they were also made quite aware of how much trouble they were in.

'What on earth possessed you, Remus?' his father asked him. Julius Lupin, like all his family, had a quiet way about him. He rarely raised his voice, and when he did it was almost never in anger, but in a stern, often ashamed disappointment that was ten times worse, Remus thought, than a spanking could ever be. He had that look now: that look that somehow managed to be cold and yet wanted to understand, that combined his commitment to his family with an unmistakable promise of punishment to come, that meted out fair judgement despite the personal cost, that made it clear a man must be responsible for his actions, even if he were the son of a lord.

Remus looked up into the well of his father's pain and shame, and felt tears spilling out of his eyes. He bit his lips nervously, but still couldn't think of an answer that would satisfy, so he shrugged.

'You don't know, is that it?' his father demanded firmly.

Remus nodded, afraid to say anything.

'Speak up,' Julius told him. 'What were you doing out in the storm, Remus?'

Now he had to answer. Remus sniffed, trying to keep his childish tears under control. 'I-I only wanted to... try the key, Papa,' he said dejectedly. 'We weren't-we didn't mean to go in the woods....'

Feeling he was missing part of the puzzle, Julius took a deep breath. 'What do you mean, "try the key?"'

Haltingly, with many breaking tears and abashed looks, Remus told his father everything. He explained that Thom had only gone because Remus asked him, and he related the tale of the strange light and the marsh. 'And I got him out with magic, Papa. All by myself.' Even crying like a baby, he couldn't conceal his pride about that. 'Then we came straight back. The kite's still in the tree.'

Julius glanced at his wife. Athena Lupin, whom he had met at Hogwarts and loved at once for her wisdom and courage and bright smile, now spoke volumes in just one look, infused with that same sense of humour and mercy that made her so dear to him. She was more relieved than angry, and in truth, so was he. He sighed.

Remus looked up at his mother too. 'I'm sorry, Mummy,' he said sincerely, bursting into tears again until she quieted him with rocking.

'Shh,' she told him, patting his hair and holding him. 'We're just glad you're alive. Not many little boys can outwit a hinkypunk,' she surmised. 'You're lucky you were so close to the edge of the bog.'

'Yes,' Julius added, nodding at his wife's assessment. 'But that doesn't change the fact that you endangered both yourself and Thom because of your rash actions. I know you didn't mean to stray off. But even had you stayed on the grounds, you could have got very ill in the rain. Do you understand?'

'Yes, Papa,' Remus said ruefully.

'Go on back to bed, now,' Julius said gently. 'Your mother and I will discuss your punishment.'

Remus's lip quivered, but he had been expecting it. He was tired and spent, so he didn't cry just then. Madam Glendower in her dressing gown and shawl held out her hand, and he slipped off his mother's lap and went with her. Only when he got upstairs and she shut the door on his nursery room did he cry again.

~*~*~*~

Remus spent two weeks confined to the nursery floor, with extra revising, and no visitors. He could go out for an hour or two in the afternoons to get his sun with Madam Glendower, but generally that time was spent only walking around the gardens, learning the names of plants and herbs. He didn't care about vervain and hyssop and snapdragons. He'd much rather ride around the Park or walk down to the village and play with the boys in the square, or go into the woods by day to watch the patterns the sun made through the leaves. But until his punishment ended, he could do none of those things.

Yet boys of four always over-exaggerate their woes, and before long, the time had passed. On the day that he was allowed to roam the house and grounds again, he convinced his governess to pack a picnic and take him berry-picking. She found ways to make it more work and less play, as usual, but still, it was outdoors and no less fun for being educational.

They returned to the Park in time for tea, but Remus was too tired and asked to be excused. He went straight up to the nursery for a well-needed nap.

When he woke, the shadows stretched over the length of the gardens and the moon had not yet broken the far tree line, but its glow and that of the dying sun turned the sky pink and purple and royal blue. The adults were at supper. Since there were so few grown ups at the Park, and his mother rarely stood on ceremony, Madam Glendower usually took her meals with the family. Remus thought about going up to see Thom, but then remembered that he would be in the kitchens with Cook and Mr Greenlaw and young Mr Turner, the chauffeur. He could go eat with them, he supposed, but he really wasn't hungry, just restless. He'd been cooped up for weeks, and his brief day in the woods wasn't enough to settle his restlessness. It was high summer, it was warm and pleasant, and he was a wizard, just like his parents. What was there to fear out of doors?

He took the back stairs down one floor, to the family rooms. He passed his future room, his father's apartments, and the entrance to his mother's private chambers. He waved to the portrait of his great-great-great-great-grandfather, Jupiter Tigworth, who had been Minister for Magic when the International Statute of Wizarding Secrecy was signed in 1692. As a personal gesture of thanks for his service, King William had created Minister Tigworth the first Lord Aethenum, given him the land for the Park and made him lord over the village nearby. Portraits of Remus's other ancestors, including his great-grandparents (the last Tigworth and the first Lupin to live at Aethenum), smiled good-naturedly at him as he walked the long corridor. At the end of the gallery was a panel that led to the balcony of the private library. The magic library. He could climb down the spiral staircase inside, go out the main door, and slip into the hallway that divided the family wing from the guest wing without disturbing anyone's meal.

He slipped out the back door, breathing deeply the fresh air of early evening. He sat down on the steps, surveying the kitchen buildings on his right, the stables and garage to his left, and ahead, across the broad lawns, the black line of trees at the edge of the forest.

He sat there, basking in the cool of evening and the growing dark, not feeling any particular need to go anywhere, when an odd, eerie light winked just inside the treeline. It looked like the same kind of light Thom had followed on the night of the big storm. Remus's parents had said it was a hinkypunk. What kind of creature was a hinkypunk? He had wondered at the time, but forgotten to ask Madam Glendower in the wake of his confinement to the nursery. It must have been something that liked to lure children away, he reasoned. But he wasn't an ordinary child. He was a junior wizard. And if he knew that the hinkypunk might try to lead him into danger, he could watch the ground carefully. Perhaps poke it with a stick to make sure it was solid. Then he could possibly catch the hinkypunk. Catch it and have a good look at it. Maybe, he thought with youthful simplicity, kill it for trying to kill him and Thom. For getting them in trouble, at any rate. Yes: he would kill the hinkypunk. At least then it wouldn't fool anyone else, either. Father was always making the forest safer for the Muggles who lived around it and down at the Crossing. For the wizards too, and there were a few in the area. Wouldn't they all be proud of him for capturing it alone? Wouldn't it prove that he could take care of himself?

The more Remus thought about this plan, the more he liked it. He would do something right and make them all forget how bad he'd been before. He stood and, brushing off his hands, he made for the light.

He found a stout stick, which he decided he could use not only to test the ground, but to conk the hinkypunk on its head when he found it. That would teach it. While he'd been sitting, watching the light flickering in the distance, the moon rose high enough to glitter through the leaves. It was bright and white overhead, and as he walked on short legs toward the trees, no tinge of yellow from clouds or heat crossed it; nary a cloud rolled over it to mask its fullness. Remus progressed cautiously, gauging the distance between himself and the hinkypunk light, testing the ground as he went.

He didn't know that his parents had guessed he might try to wander off again. Athena and Julius, both understanding their only son's adventurous spirit, took precautions after that fateful night. Julius didn't trust at all that the admonishment not to go into the forest alone, especially at night, would act as a sufficient deterrent. After all, he himself, at Remus's age, had gladly toddled after his elder brother on expeditions to far India (the school about two miles north-east), or Hogsmeade (the sweets shop in the Crossing), or wherever else they fancied. Nothing their father told them had made any difference. It was that same streak of recklessness that got his brother killed in Barcelona scarcely a summer after finishing Hogwarts. Damn fool, he was, to try to fight a bull without a wand, and before earning his Apparation license. Not that he could have done, anyway, with all those Muggles watching. Julius understood that a certain mischievous bedevilment ran in the family. It did not mean he would stand to lose his son to it.

So when Remus passed the tree line, the clock in the library chimed out of tune. It chimed softly at first, but the further from home Remus strayed, the louder the chimes rang. When it was loud enough to be heard in the dining room, Julius and Athena jumped up from supper and rushed to its call. Remus's clock hand pointed to 'Mortal Peril.'

'Oh, no,' Athena blanched, her eyes widening with fear, but with determination in her voice. With a brief tap of his wand, Julius silenced the clock to keep it from booming. Husband and wife, lord and lady, looked into each other's eyes with a common thought. 'The forest,' they said in unison, and both pelted back into the dining room to alert everyone.