Three Animagi and a Werewolf

Chapter 13: Revelations

The Dark Mark

That same night strange things happened elsewhere. Tom, the barman of the Leaky Cauldron, a grubby little pub tucked in between a large book shop and a record shop on a street in London, woke to hear the floorboards creak on the landing outside his bedroom. He listened and thought he could hear hushed voices. He got up, thinking maybe one of the guests wanted something, and removed his green flannel dressing gown from the hook on the back of the door. He was just tying the belt and smoothing what little hair he had when he caught a snippet of a conversation going on on the other side of the door.

"You are certain it is tonight?" a foreign voice said quietly.

"Positive," a woman replied.

She wasn't keeping her voice quite as low, and Tom thought it sounded like the woman who had booked in yesterday. He had put Paula Lestrange and her husband in number six.

"The letter said that the Dark Lord would reveal himself to the world on the night of the next full moon, and that is tonight," a firm man's voice - probably Leonard Lestrange's - agreed.

"So the hiding will end at last," said the foreign voice.

Tom decided that this must be Karkaroff, the young Bulgarian who had been staying at the Leaky Cauldron for two nights.

"Yes. We will finally be able to come out into the open and purge the world of all Muggles and mudbloods," the woman said savagely.

Tom caught his breath. He heard footsteps retreating towards the stairs and wondered for a moment what he should do. Should he follow them and see what they were up to? He thought hard, and decided that it was obvious enough from their talk what was going to happen. But he had to do something. He had to warn someone, if nothing else. But who? His first thought was the Ministry, but then that had been becoming infiltrated more and more by supporters of the man whose name seemed to frighten even the most sensible witches and wizards.

Tom sat on the end of his bed debating, furious with himself for being so slow. Professor Dumbledore? He seemed by far the best person to tell, but by the time Tom had got hold of him ... He considered his other guests. But what if they were also on the wrong side?

"No, don't be daft, Tom, they won't be," he told himself. "Anyone who's still in the house must be against ... that lot, otherwise they'd be out there themselves."

Decided at last, he stepped out onto the landing, though not without stowing his wand in the pocket of his dressing gown.

John Lupin opened his eyes and blinked in the semi-darkness. He turned over and looked at his wife. Her mouth was slightly open and her features were relaxed and peaceful. John sighed. He had been in two minds when his brother-in-law Malcolm had suggested they should come up to London to see him. Because Malcolm's flat was not very large, they had done the natural thing and come to the Leaky Cauldron. On the one hand, John agreed that a holiday would do them both good and it would make a nice change to see something other than the woods around their house, which could be very gloomy at this time of year.

On the other hand, he was deeply worried about taking Faith away from the safety of their home. He watched her sleeping now, and felt a sickening fear creep back into his heart. Times were bad, there was no denying it. And they were especially bad for Muggle-borns like his wife and brother-in-law. There had been such a lot of reports lately about wizards and witches terrorising others who weren't pure-blood, that he was becoming increasingly afraid for his wife's safety. He couldn't bear it if anything happened to Faith.

Her hand was lying on the pillow beside him. John stroked it gently and lay awake just watching her sleep. He heard several sets of footsteps cross the hallway outside and fade away. A few minutes later, there were more footsteps, but this time they seemed to stop just outside their door. There was a quiet knock that made John jump and his heart pound. He held his breath and waited. The knock was repeated. Again he waited, releasing Faith's hand to turn and pick his wand up from the bedside table.

More footsteps, firmer this time. A voice spoke.

"What are you doing?" it demanded.

"They don't seem to be awake," a quieter voice replied.

There was another dull knock, then an impatient sound from the second man and a loud rap on the door. John pushed back his covers and walked towards the door. The moment he moved, Faith stirred and opened her eyes.

"John?" she muttered sleepily.

He pressed his finger to his mouth and went to open the door a fraction. He found two people outside, apparently about to turn away and go downstairs.

"Ah, Mr. Lupin," Tom the barman whispered. "For a minute we thought you weren't in your room."

John looked suspiciously from him to his companion, a serious-faced man in a black dressing gown whom he had seen down in the bar yesterday evening.

"What's going on?" he asked.

The serious-faced man answered.

"There seems to be something going on in Diagon Alley tonight," he said. "Tom overheard people talking about the Dark Lord, and he and I were about to investigate and wanted to ask you to come along."

"And who are you?" John asked.

"Bartemius Crouch is the name."

"You're Barty Crouch?"

Crouch looked uncomfortable.

"That is what some people call me," he admitted.

John relaxed a little.

"Just let me get my cloak," he said.

He turned back into the room and closed the door behind him. Faith was sitting up, looking anxious.

"What's happening?" she asked, getting out of bed and coming over while John pulled on his cloak.

"There seems to be a bit of bother down in the Alley. I'm going down with the others to check."

"John ..."

Faith held him back a moment. He tried to smile reassuringly and gave her a quick kiss.

"Don't worry, love," he said. "I'll be right back."

The full moon shone down on Diagon Alley and shed its light on the crowd of people that had gathered in front of Gringotts. They were all dressed in black robes and their faces were shadowed by large hoods. John Lupin followed Crouch and Tom out onto the street and noticed that several faces were peering out from behind half-closed shutters in windows above the shops.

Suddenly a bright flame sprang up in front of the bronze doors of the wizard bank. A loud murmur ran through the crowd as a figure took shape on the steps before their very eyes. John thought that it was the figure of a man wrapped in that long and flowing black cloak, though he could not see a face under the hood. Sure enough, it was a male voice, though strangely high-pitched and unearthly cold, that spoke over the noise of the murmuring voices.

"Welcome, my friends. Thank you for coming here tonight to witness the dawn of a new age for wizardkind. From this night on, we will no longer be forced to hide who we are and what we are. From this night on, we will cast aside the shackles placed on us by Muggles and the Muggle-loving fools that have so far ruled us. We will establish a new order. No one will dare to oppose us, and all the world will learn to fear the power and the very name of Lord Voldemort."

At this point there was much clapping and cheering. John felt a shiver down his spine.

"But you, my loyal comrades," the man on the steps was now saying, "need fear nothing. You shall all have power beyond imagination, and those of you who prove most loyal to me I will raise into my inner circle, and they shall bear my mark upon them."

He gestured to two people who had stood a little way back, and they brought forward a very old man with a hunched back. He was shaking and trembling with fear.

"This man," Lord Voldemort went on, "was once an important minister for the great Ministry of Magic. But when I paid him a visit and suggested that he should fire his mudblood staff and employ only members of the old wizarding families, he refused bluntly. He will now learn that it is a mistake to refuse anything Lord Voldemort requests."

The old man was brought up closer to Voldemort and the two people who had been holding him backed away. With a shock John recognised the old man as Damocles Dorset, a former minister at the office of International Magical Cooperation who had mysteriously been 'taken ill' a few months before. But the last time John had seen him, he had been in perfect health and his back had been as straight as any. Yet now he seemed barely able to stand, and he was trembling before Lord Voldemort, who was levelling his wand at the old man's chest.

"Oh my god," John muttered, more to himself than to his two companions, "he's going to kill him."

He started forward in the direction of the bank, but Tom grabbed his arm and held him back.

"There's nothing we can do, Lupin," he said quietly.

"But we can't just stand by and let that man commit a murder!" John exclaimed.

"We have no choice," Bartemius Crouch answered coldly.

John stared at him and was about to reply when Lord Voldemort's voice interrupted him.

"Avada Kedavra," he said.

There was a blinding flash of green light and the old minister collapsed to the ground. He had died in the blink of an eye, and there had been nothing John could do to prevent it. All colour drained from his face and he watched in silence while the Dark Lord chanted,

"Morsmordre."

A gigantic cloudy green shape issued from the end of his wand and rose into the sky above. Next to him, John heard Tom the barman gasp. He looked up and stared. A huge skull was floating above the spot where Voldemort stood, a serpent writhing in its mouth like an overgrown tongue. And then John heard Lord Voldemort's unnatural, high-pitched laughter.

"It has begun, my friends. The Dark Mark has been conjured, and from now on it will put fear into the hearts of all the filthy mudbloods and Muggles. Come, follow me, my friends, and we will toast this night."

Voldemort turned and walked away towards Knockturn Alley. The crowd parted, all bowing their heads as he passed, then following behind him. When they had gone, John turned his attention back to the front doors of Gringotts, where a limp form was still sprawled on the steps. A moment before, his legs had felt like lead, but now they suddenly came to life again, and they led him straight to where Voldemort had stood a moment before. The others followed him. John crouched beside the old minister's body and examined it, but there was no sign of any wound.

"How did he do this?" he asked, bewildered.

"He used an ancient curse - an Unforgivable Curse," Crouch replied.

John looked up at the other man's stern face.

"One of the three curses that have been outlawed for centuries?"

"Yes."

John rose slowly and said,

"How do we fight someone like him? Someone who will stop at nothing - torture, murder, the use of banned curses ...?"

"There is only one way," said Crouch. "We must use his own weapons against him. If he is ruthless, we must be more so. If he is cruel, we must be crueller. If he uses outlawed spells, so must we."

John thought for a moment, then he shook his head.

"No. If we try to fight the enemy with his own weapons, then we will become like him, and in the end he will win, even if he is defeated."

"There is no alternative," Crouch insisted.

"Yes there is. There is always an alternative," John said firmly. "I will write to Professor Dumbledore. It is in men like him that we must place our trust if we really want to stamp out this evil."

John Lupin dragged himself up the stairs at the Leaky Cauldron and pushed the door to his room open. An oil lamp on the table in the corner added its pale flicker to the fading light of the moon.

"John!"

Faith rushed to him before he had even closed the door and wrapped her arms around his neck. John returned the embrace and for a while they stood there in silence. Finally Faith drew back a little and touched his cheek with the palm of her hand and looked into his eyes.

"What happened?" she asked.

John led her over to the bed and sat down beside her. Then he began telling her about the night's events.

An Offer of Friendship

Remus dragged himself up the main staircase. The moon had waned, and he was aching all over with weariness and pain. The others hadn't come at night, and that meant that he had had a worse transformation than he had experienced for a long time. While the others were with him, Remus was able to stay relatively sane, and in consequence suffered less self-inflicted injuries. As they hadn't turned up this time, though, things had gone back to the way they used to be, but made worse because he was no longer as used to it.

His head was spinning, and he stood for a while without moving, feeling so weak that it frightened him. He heard soft footsteps coming his way and tried to force himself to go on, but he had only just taken one more step when Frank Longbottom appeared, coming the opposite way.

"Hello, Remus," he said brightly.

Remus forced a smile and took another step forward, but his shoe caught on the stairs and he nearly fell. Frank put out an arm to steady him.

"Are you all right?" he asked, looking worried.

"Fine," Remus lied, taking his weight off Frank's arm. "See you later."

He moved on painfully, and only a few steps later, he stumbled again.

"You should go to Madam Pomfrey," Frank recommended, rushing back up the stairs to help him.

"No, really," he protested. "I'll be all right. I just need some rest. Just tell Professor Flitwick I won't be coming today, will you?"

He could vividly imagine what would happen if he went to Madam Pomfrey now. She would tend his cuts all right, but she would also be likely to begin wondering why he hadn't been along more often with similar wounds after his transformations. On the other hand, he didn't see how he could make it to Gryffindor Tower like this.

"Need any help?" Frank asked.

"You'll be late for lessons," Remus said.

"Never mind that."

Frank took Remus by the arm and helped him up the stairs. They continued that way all the way up to the Gryffindor common room and on to their dormitory. There Frank guided Remus to his bed. Remus dropped down onto it gratefully.

"Thanks, Frank," he said.

"No problem," said Frank, still looking worried. "You sure you won't see Madam Pomfrey?"

Remus nodded, biting his lip. He moved slightly, and a cut in his arm twinged so suddenly that he groaned involuntarily.

"What is it?" Frank asked, coming nearer.

"Nothing."

"Let me see."

Before Remus could stop him, Frank had reached the bedside and pulled Remus's cloak away from his arm. He whistled through his teeth. The sleeve of Remus's shirt bore a sticky brown patch.

"That's a bad gash you've got there," Frank commented, examining the wound.

"It'll heal," Remus replied.

"Might leave a nasty scar though," Frank said. He paused for a moment, then seemed to make up his mind about something and added, "Still, I expect you're used to them."

"What?"

Remus looked up sharply. Frank Longbottom had sat down on the side of his bed and was looking more serious than Remus had ever seen him.

"I think it's time we both stopped pretending," he said. "Aren't you fed up with making up excuses? I know I'm fed up with making out I'm some sort of blockhead."

"I don't know what you mean," Remus answered half-heartedly.

"Yes you do. I'm not stupid," Frank said heatedly.

"I know what you are, and I've decided it's time you knew that I know. It will save you thinking up reasons for being missing on certain nights, and me from making out I'm an idiot. It'll be easier for both of us."

"Y-you know I'm a ..." Remus broke off his sentence. "How did you find out?"

Frank shrugged.

"Various things. You missing from lessons on a regular basis, not turning up in the dormitory - and not being in the hospital wing when the others said you were. And I've heard them call you 'Moony' a couple of times when you all thought I was asleep. I just put two and two together."

"And - what are you going to do about it?"

"Nothing," Frank replied. "I just wanted to tell you I know, and I want you to know it's okay - it doesn't bother me, and I'll never tell a soul."

He looked at Remus intently, lying on the bed with a pale face and tired eyes, his grey hairs seeming to sparkle more than usual in the bright morning sunlight.

"But if there's anything I can do to help, just let me know," Frank added quietly.

Remus stared at him for a while. Finally he shook his head.

"No," he said softly, "but thanks for the offer. I appreciate your honesty, and I'm sorry if I've upset you by seeming not to trust you ..."

"Hey," Frank interrupted, "I told you it's okay. I understand why you've kept this to yourself, and I'm not blaming the others for not telling me. You four have your secrets, just as Damian and I have ours. But I can imagine that it can be tough living a life like yours, and I really just wanted you to know that I'm here if you ever need me. That goes for the four of you, by the way. I don't know what's going on at the moment, but there's trouble brewing, I can see that. It might not be long before we'll all need all the help and friendship we can get. When that time comes, I'll be ready to do my bit, and so will Damian."

Frank smiled suddenly.

"That's enough doom and gloom," he said in a lighter tone. "Now let's get that cut of yours cleaned up, and then I think you should get some sleep. I'll try and sneak some bandages from the hospital wing. I'll be right back."

Remus watched the door close behind Frank and lay back on his pillow feeling strangely relieved. He had never felt before that keeping a secret from the fifth boy in their dormitory was such a big deal, but now he was suddenly aware that it had made him uncomfortable. And it was always good to know that there was another person who accepted him for what he was.