Three Animagi and a Werewolf

Chapter 40: In Immediate Danger

Another Month On

Faith took the freshly baked cake out of the oven and glanced at the clock. It brought a frown to her face. It was almost midday, and still Remus had not left his bedroom more than twice - once to go to the bathroom, and once to come down for breakfast. Since then, he had shut himself in upstairs with his books, and she had neither seen him nor heard him again. Admittedly, it had never been unusual for her son to spend a whole day doing nothing but read, but in weather as fine as today's, he normally did so out of doors. And yet despite the glorious sunshine, as far as she knew he had not even opened his window.

She put the cake on a plate to let it cool, and poured out a glass of pumpkin juice to take up to him.

"Come in," Remus answered her knock on his door.

He was sitting at his desk, studying the book Professor Darkhardt had given him for Christmas one year. Faith set the glass down beside him, saying conversationally, "I've just got the cake out of the oven. What icing do you prefer? Strawberry, Lemon ..."

"I don't mind," he replied absent-mindedly.

"It's lovely weather out," Faith said, going to the window. "I'm surprised you're not out enjoying it while you can."

Remus looked up from his book for the first time since she had entered the room. "After last month, I decided it was safer not to go out at all today. Just in case. I'd rather wait until the full moon has passed."

Faith turned to face him. She tried to find something to say, but she couldn't think of anything. So she merely walked up to him and stroked his hair.

He gave a faint smile. "Don't worry, Mum. I'll be all right again tomorrow. I won't get prison pallor just from spending one day indoors."

* * *

It seemed to have become Ministry of Magic policy to have all staff work on Saturdays, although John could not think why he had been asked to come in today. Nothing had happened all morning - or rather, nothing he was allowed to do anything about. All the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures seemed to do these days was record incidents involving dangerous magical creatures. They were never allowed to act upon the information they received. The Ministry was run almost entirely by Death Eaters now, and its latest activities included things like firing all half-blood personnel and issuing new rules to prohibit the employment of Muggle-borns. Last week, "Conspiring with Muggles" - defined as spending more than one hour a week with more than two Muggles at a time - had been added to the list of crimes punishable by a three-month term in Azkaban, whereas Muggle-baiting had been legalised. Within his own department, home-breeding of hitherto unrecognised species remained illegal, but became legal the moment the breeder registered the new breed with the Ministry and provided the Ministry with a 'prototype' for further research. A vampire who attacked a pure-blood witch or wizard or a Death Eater could be sentenced to life, whereas one who killed a Muggle would get off without so much as a fine. House Elves were bred and then kept in cages until they could be sold off to wealthy pure-blood families, and for the right amount of money, it was now possible to purchase mountain trolls to guard family fortunes. And anyone who dared speak out against these policies usually vanished almost immediately, either never to be seen again, or to return with opinions totally the reverse of those they had voiced before.

Under these circumstances, John supposed it was no wonder, really, that he hardly ever slept nights now. Or that Faith said goodbye to him every morning as though he were heading towards his own execution rather than just another day at work. She worried about him terribly, and he couldn't blame her. Lately, every day made him feel more and more that it was time he followed his son's and Lily's example and resigned before his name was added to the long list of those who had been asked to leave, sacked, or who had simply disappeared. It was only the knowledge that his income was all his family had to live on at the moment that kept him here. True, Gordon Gryffindor had offered to tide them over if he would prefer to stop working at the Ministry and seek another position, but John had no idea what position to go looking for. He had never worked at any other job but this, and did not think it would be easy to find one at the moment, not with his family background.

He checked his watch. It was lunchtime at last. He took off his reading glasses and rubbed his eyes. God, he was tired. Strong coffee was definitely what the Healer ordered right now. John went out, locked his office behind him and headed towards the lift. It filled with more people on their way to lunch as it stopped at other floors. One or two acknowledged him with a nod. No one spoke. The Ministry of Magic had become a quiet place to work.

Most people stepped out of the lift when it reached the Atrium, John among them. But he had only just passed the golden grille when a harsh, rasping voice close by said, "Well, well. If it isn't my old 'friend', Lupin."

John stopped short and turned towards the speaker. He recognised the man with an unpleasant leap of the heart. The other witches and wizards went about their business, some casting nervous glances as they passed, all of them keeping their distance.

"Remember me?" the big man continued.

"Greyback," John said, and though his voice was steady it sounded hollow and weak compared to the other man's growling tone.

"I've been hoping we'd run into each other ever since I started coming to the Ministry," the other went on. "What luck it happened to be today."

John felt his jaw tighten. He, too, had been expecting - or dreading - an encounter with Greyback since he had heard that the werewolf was loose again, but it had not prepared him for the actual moment. In the years that had passed, the revulsion he felt for Greyback had not lessened. Nor had the fear. He pulled himself together. He would not give Greyback the satisfaction of seeing him quiver. Their history was long passed, and he had come out on top back then, sending Greyback to Azkaban, where he belonged. He walked on without another word.

But Greyback was not finished. He followed John in the direction of the fireplaces and barred his way again.

"Not so fast," he said. "It's been so long, surely you wouldn't walk away before we've caught up on old times?"

"I would," John said evenly. "It's lunchtime, I'm hungry ... and in my opinion, it hasn't been long enough."

Greyback snarled. "You want to pick your words more carefully, Lupin. You don't want to make me angry." He picked his teeth with a yellow fingernail. "How's your son?" he asked.

"Get out of my way," John responded quietly.

Ignoring his words, Greyback continued, "How did it feel, having your only son turned into something you hate so much?"

John knew he shouldn't rise to the bait, but he couldn't help it. "My son is nothing like you," he retorted sharply. "And I never hated werewolves, but you ... you're something less than human."

"I am what people like you made me. With your hate, and your fear, and your persecution."

"I tried to help you! You could have had a different life, you could have been someone, but you chose to go on killing and give people more reason than ever for their prejudices ..."

"Prejudices they now hold against your son, eh?"

Greyback was smiling unpleasantly. John did not answer this time, but merely said, "Stand aside, Greyback."

"He and I are not so different," the werewolf claimed. "There's a killer in him, too. You should try and get him to accept that, rather than fight it. He'd be much happier that way, satisfying his lust for blood rather than suppressing it, using his power to subdue the people who want nothing more than to put him down like an animal turned rabid ... people like you. If he has an ounce of pride, he ought to despise you. You made him what he is, and you taught him to hate himself for it."

"That's not true!" John cried.

Again, Greyback had touched a nerve so expertly that he couldn't resist the urge to protest, even though he knew it was playing into the other's hands. John took a few deep breaths to steady himself. He said more calmly, "I love my son. But you wouldn't understand that. You don't understand love, or compassion, or pity."

"I understand revenge," Greyback said with a satisfied sneer. "I've proved that to you well enough, I should think. It doesn't do to go against me, Lupin. It comes at a price, and it's not cheap, as your son can testify. You underestimated me once. Only a fool would do so twice. You're not a fool, are you, Lupin?"

John stared at him, horrified by what he was hearing. Greyback gave a yellow-toothed grin and walked away.

* * *

"It's tonight, isn't it?" Bridget asked Malcolm as they sat on the balcony together, eating sandwiches and drinking tea.

"What is?"

"The full moon."

She looked across at him. Malcolm seemed to be concentrating on his food, but she knew that what this actually meant was that he was avoiding her eyes. She put a hand on his arm to stop him eating, and forced him to look at her.

"Yes," he said with a sigh. "It's tonight."

Her eyes were fearful. "And you still haven't been able to find Jeremy Crowe."

He shook his head.

"He goes to the Ministry practically every day!"

"I can't get to him at the Ministry. You know I can't just go waltzing in there."

"John might be able to catch him there."

"I can't ask John to get involved in this. If he comes up against Greyback again ..."

"Remus is his son, not yours!" Bridget said hotly. "Don't you think if he knew what you were planning, he would demand the right to help you go about it in what, in my opinion, is a somewhat less reckless and suicidal manner?"

"Do you want to get John killed?"

"I don't want you to get killed!" she cried. "And I think you underestimate John if you think he couldn't outwit someone like Greyback."

Malcolm shook his head. "No, Bridget. You don't know Greyback and what he's capable of, and you don't know the effect he's always had on John. John's too soft to deal with the Greybacks of this world. Greyback can't be measured by normal human standards, his evil goes deeper, and John ... John's too good for this world, surely you know that."

"I do know that. But I still think ..."

"No, Bridget," Malcolm said firmly. "I will not involve John in this. Greyback's hurt him enough already."

"Then at least let me go with you."

"No."

"You're not going alone!"

"It's too dangerous."

"Too dangerous for me, but not for you, I suppose?!"

"It's too dangerous for anyone, but I have no choice."

"Really? Have you asked Remus?" she demanded. "Have you asked him whether he would rather see his uncle mauled by a couple of werewolves, or put up with a twelve-hour gap in his memory?"

Malcolm left the table and went indoors. Bridget called after him, but he did not come back.

* * *

Taking Risks

Faith had been expecting John home by three, but he had not come. It was now nearly four o'clock, and she had been getting increasingly worried for half an hour.

"Perhaps it's been a busy day," Remus suggested when she went up to his room to talk to him about his father's lateness.

"Then why hasn't he called?" Faith wondered. "He said he should be home by three, he knows how I worry about him."

She went over to the window and peered out towards the only possible Apparition spot in the clearing. Remus closed his book and came to stand beside her. He put his hand on her shoulder and said soothingly, "I'm sure he'll be home long before it's time to lock me up."

His mother's fingers closed around his, but she did not stop staring out of the window. The minutes passed. Remus returned to his book. It was a quarter past four when Faith said, "There he ... no, wait. It's Bridget!"

She hurried out the door and down the stairs to let Bridget in, though not before ascertaining it really was Bridget by asking their agreed question and receiving the right answer. Bridget hugged Faith as she came in. They went into the living room.

"Is John home?" Bridget asked as soon as she had sat down.

"No," Faith told her. "He should have been in an hour ago. When I saw you Apparate, I thought perhaps you'd seen him."

Bridget shook her head. "No, I came here to talk to him about tonight. Malcolm's made up his mind to go looking for Jeremy Crowe, and I can't persuade him otherwise."

"What?" Remus said sharply, having just appeared in the doorway.

Both women looked up. He came into the room and stared at Bridget. "He can't go looking for Jeremy, not tonight. He only needs to stay with Jeremy a moment too long, and ..."

"I know, I know," said Bridget with exasperation. "I've been through all that with him, but he claims he can find Jeremy, talk to him and get back well in time. He's on his way there now."

"Jeremy won't be alone," Remus said. "Fenrir Greyback hardly ever leaves him out of his sight."

"Fenrir Greyback?" Faith echoed fearfully. "Surely Malcolm knows better than to go anywhere near him."

"You'd have thought so, wouldn't you?" Bridget agreed. "But no, he seems determined to walk straight into his waiting arms. I think it's partly because of what happened last month. I don't know, sometimes lately I've got the impression he feels that if someone could only stop Greyback once and for all ..."

"No one can stop Greyback," Remus said. "Not alone, and certainly not toni..."

He broke off. A key was being turned in the front door, and Faith jumped to her feet and went out into the hall. Remus and Bridget waited, and soon Faith returned. John was with her. He looked drawn.

"Hello, Bridget," he said.

She returned his greeting. He sat down in his usual armchair, and Faith resumed her seat. Remus still remained standing.

"Dad," he said, "Bridget's been telling us Uncle Malcolm wants to go looking for Jeremy Crowe tonight, even though he knows Jeremy's probably with Greyback."

John's tired blue eyes flickered from Remus to Bridget.

"It's true," she told him. "He's pretty determined. I told him it's too dangerous, but he says it's the only time he knows where to find Jeremy, except for when he's at the Ministry, and he can't go there."

"I'm at the Ministry every day, why didn't he say something?"

"He doesn't want you to get involved."

"Involved?!" John exclaimed. "Good God, if it hadn't been for me ..."

He suddenly buried his face in his hands. Bridget, Faith and Remus exchanged glances. It was a long time before John looked up again. His expression was haunted.

"I met Fenrir Greyback today," he began telling them. "He taunted me and ... implied certain things ... That's why I'm late," he explained to Faith. "I needed some time to think before I came home. To work things out. And then I wanted to talk to Malcolm about it, but he wasn't there." John turned to Bridget. "Do you know where he's looking for the boy?"

"I've got a rough idea."

"Then let's not hang about," John said, getting to his feet again. "He's got a head start already, and a better idea of where he's going, it won't be easy to catch up with him."

Remus followed him to the door. "Dad, let me come with you."

"No, Remus, it's too risky."

"Not yet, it's still early. Dad, please - I know he's only doing this for me, I can't stay behind, knowing what might happen!"

John put a hand on his shoulder. "Remus, we don't know how long this will take. It could be dark before we find him."

"I could come just for a while, and if we find it's getting too late ..."

"It might already be too late by then for you to Apparate back here, if it's even possible to Disapparate from where we're going. And you can't expect your mother to lock you up all by herself."

"But ..."

"Come on, Remus," John said, and he walked out the front door.

Remus followed him obediently to the brick-walled hut. His father held the door open for him, and Remus crossed the threshold. Then he turned round once more.

"Dad, when you spoke to Greyback, did he tell you ... I mean, what did he say?"

John's eyes widened in surprise as he studied his son's face. "Y-you knew?"

Remus realised then that the secret his uncle had kept all these years was out at last. While Remus had let himself be persuaded to keep it, Greyback had finally found the opportunity to gloat over what he had done, and Remus could see now for certain that Malcolm had been right not to tell John before. He had never seen his father look so pained.

"Yes," he said gently. "Greyback told me himself that he was the one who bit me."

"And he did it because of me," John said heavily. "Out of revenge for what I'd done to him."

"You did what you had to do," Remus answered quickly. "Uncle Malcolm told me all about it, and I know his version was the true one. What Greyback was doing was monstrous, and you had to stop him."

"And by doing so, I sealed your fate, for which I can never expect you to forgive me."

"There's nothing to forgive. Dad ..."

But John seemed incapable of looking his son in the eye. He turned away and closed the door behind him, reinforcing it with spells and ignoring his son's continued shouted attempts to speak to him.

He rejoined Bridget and Faith, who looked frantic.

"For God's sake be careful, both of you," she pleaded. "John, darling ..."

He embraced her quickly, but said nothing more. He and Bridget returned to the Apparition spot, turned and disappeared. Remus was still banging on the door of the shed. Faith walked up to it and leaned against the wood.

"He's gone," she said, and the banging stopped. Faith felt warm tears start to trickle down her cheeks.

* * *

Dressed in Muggle clothes and prodding the ground with the old walking stick Faith had made him use during his recovery after escaping the Death Eaters, Malcolm had been searching the forest his contacts had told him about for several hours without finding a trace of Jeremy Crowe. Every now and then, he had found a print and bent to examine it with a hand gloved in dragon hide, but they had all been the paw prints of animals that dwelt here. It was growing increasingly dark between the trees, and his watch told him that he ought to give up soon and go home. Even if he found Jeremy now, they would not have much time to talk before the moon came out. Whatever anyone believed, Malcolm was not feeling suicidal, nor had he any desire to be bitten.

He lit his wand and peered through the light that it shed. It was maddening how one clearing in this woodland looked so very much like another. But just as he was deciding that it was hopeless, the wand light fell on something in the undergrowth - the remains of several small animals that appeared to have been killed some time ago, though apparently not for food, for their carcasses had been discarded. He examined the bushes and ferns on either side of the spot, and found a place where the twigs had been broken and the ferns trampled.

Malcolm followed the trail, and the forest grew denser and darker still around him. The wind picked up and rustled the leaves overhead, making a sound like the whisper of a million hushed voices warning each other of his approach.

* * *

Remus sat on the floor of the hut, counting. He had been cross with himself earlier for losing control like that, and was trying hard now to concentrate on the passing seconds and minutes to keep himself calm, and not let his panic get the better of him. He had got as far as two hundred and ten minutes, eleven seconds. Roughly. He couldn't say exactly whether that covered the length of time he had sat here, because there were gaps when other thoughts had interrupted his rhythm, or when he had forgotten to count at all. He had not even started to count until he had heard his mother walk away.

Twelve seconds. He wondered what exactly Greyback had said to his father. In any case, his uncle had been proved right. The realisation that he, Remus, had not been bitten by chance or accident, but purposely as an act of revenge, had shaken his father badly. On top of that, the news that Uncle Malcolm had started out for Greyback's lair hours before the full moon had added to his already deep distress, and there was no knowing what might happen if there was a confrontation. His father was not himself tonight.

"Keep counting," he told himself in a whisper. "Keep counting. Twenty seconds. Twenty-one, twenty-two, twenty-three ..."

Bridget and his father couldn't have found his uncle yet, or they would have come back by now. Half of him hoped they wouldn't find him at all, the other half was anxious what might happen to his uncle if he was really caught out alone in the night with two werewolves.

"Twenty-four ... No, probably more like thirty by now. So, thirty-one, thirty-two ... It's all my fault," he muttered, clenching his fists.

When Alice had proved unable to properly uncover his lost memory, he should have left it at that. He should have told Lily to leave it at that. He should have stopped her going to his uncle, and above all, he should have anticipated Uncle Malcolm getting a reckless idea like this and done something to stop it. Or he should have gone looking for Jeremy himself. At least that way, if the full moon had come up, they would each have stood an even chance, whereas his uncle and his father and Bridget ... It didn't bear thinking about. He tried to go on counting.

"Forty-three, forty-four, forty-six - no, forty-five, forty-six - seven ..."

If anything happened to them, it would be his fault.

"It's all my fault."

Tap-tap-tap. Someone was knocking on the door from the outside. "Remus?" The voice was muffled, but recognisable.

"James?"

"Yes. Glad to hear you're still yourself. How long do you think you've got?"

"I can't tell, I've lost count," Remus said, getting up from his sitting position and instead kneeling closer to the door. "Are Sirius and Peter with you?"

"Yes. We've got a plan. Hang on."

Remus could hear some murmuring going on outside, and then the door lit up a few times. Finally the key was turned in the lock. Remus stood.

"What are you all doing here?" he asked, anxiously glancing up at the sky.

"We reckoned Malcolm might get it into his head to do something incredibly stupid tonight," Sirius said grimly. "And seeing as he wasn't in when we called, it looks like we were right."

"Yes," Remus sighed. "You were. He's gone looking for Jeremy Crowe, knowing Greyback's likely to be there, too, and Dad and Bridget have gone after him."

"Then we're going after them," James said. "Come on, let's get going before you transform and can't Apparate anymore."

"But ... James, it's too late, if I go now I'll be a danger to everyone."

"Don't worry, we'll be with you," James reassured him. "Sirius and I can keep you under control."

"But then you'll have to let on to Uncle Malcolm and my dad that you're Animagi!"

"Can we worry about that later?" Sirius put in. "We should be getting a move on."

"I don't know that this is such a good idea."

"Remus, we need your help," James insisted. "Sirius should be able to pick up my mum's scent all right, but if not, we'll need to follow your nose, you'll find humans all right once you've transformed."

Remus remained reluctant. Peter, too, looked uncomfortable.

"Are you a Marauder, or not?" Sirius demanded.

* * *

Nighttime Battle

Malcolm could see the entrance to Greyback's den now. He approached the gaping black hole cautiously, listening for any sound and shining his wand light in every direction. There did not seem to be anyone about. He took a careful step into the narrow passage and began to walk along it, one gloved hand holding his wand aloft and the other gripping the walking stick in his left hand tightly. Eventually he came to a heavy oak door with bands of iron running across it, and a small barred window through which he could see very little except the pale flame of a single flickering candle. He extinguished his wand light and knocked. He heard a chair being pushed back, and the shadow of a person blotted out the candle from view for a second. Malcolm kept his wand at the ready just in case. The candle was lifted and carried towards the door, and a very young, slightly hoarse voice asked, "Who's there?"

"Jeremy?" Malcolm asked quietly. "Is that you?"

"Yes." The voice sounded puzzled. "Who are you?"

"Is Greyback there?"

"No. Who are you?" the boy repeated.

"My name is Malcolm Marley," Malcolm introduced himself. "You've met my nephew, Remus Lupin ..."

There was a pause. Then the door opened slowly, and a skinny young boy stood there with a candle in his hand, looking sickly and unsure of himself.

"You're Remus's uncle?" he said, studying Malcolm. "Yes. You look like him. But you shouldn't be here. He isn't in, but he'll be here before long."

"Can I come in?" Malcolm asked in a friendly tone.

Jeremy hesitated briefly, then stood aside. Malcolm passed into the cavernous space, looked around swiftly and then sat on a chair that looked like it had been smashed to pieces and put back together again a good few times, laying his stick across his knees and tucking his wand in his belt. Jeremy closed the door and bolted it before turning to look at his guest.

"You've come at a bad time," he remarked. "The moon will be full in about half an hour. If there was anything particular you wanted, you'd better come to the point."

"All right," said Malcolm. "I want you to tell me about the last time there was a full moon. I suppose you know my nephew is having difficulties remembering where he was at the time. It has made him doubt himself, because he doesn't know what he might or might not have done. His friends are determined to get to the bottom of it - with your help."

Jeremy stiffened. "You're wasting your time. I don't want to talk about that."

"Oh, I think you do," Malcolm said pleasantly. "It's preying on your mind, I'm sure. Otherwise why would you have let me in?"

"Maybe I let you in to trap you for when he gets back."

Malcolm shook his head. "If this was a trap, you wouldn't have bolted that door, you'd have made sure to leave it unbolted so Greyback could come in and surprise me. Besides, I spent many years working as an Auror, and I think you may give me credit for a certain amount of skill at getting out of tricky situations."

"You can't Disapparate from in here. Nor from anywhere within ten miles. It's been fixed so that people can Apparate in, but they can't get away."

Still Malcolm was unmoved, which visibly unsettled Jeremy, who after a pause asked, "What is it you want to know?"

"Anything you can tell me about what happened to Remus last month. Where he was, what he did - if anything - and why he can't remember."

"And assuming I know all that, why would I tell you?"

"Because I think you're a good kid at heart."

"I'm a werewolf!" Jeremy cried with a bitter laugh.

Malcolm shrugged his shoulders. "The one doesn't rule out the other. I've told you who I am, and who my nephew is. You can't seriously expect me to be afraid of you."

"Well, you should be," Jeremy said shakily. "I-I'm dangerous."

But he faltered under Malcolm's penetrating gaze, and he looked away quickly to hide the fact that his eyes were suddenly brimming with tears. Malcolm rose slowly and pulled the boy up against his chest, patting his head with one arm.

"It's all right to cry, Jeremy," he said kindly. "Believe me, I know what you've been through. You saw your parents and your sister murdered, and you've been forced to do terrible things. But it doesn't have to go on like this. I can help you, take you away from here - protect you."

Jeremy pulled away abruptly. "Protect me? From him? You couldn't even protect your own nephew! Yes, I know we were sired by the same wolf, that we're the same, that we ... we ..."

"You were both children who fell victim to a man who is bloodthirsty and cruel. But you're both better than him. Please, Jeremy, help me, and let me help you."

There was a long pause. At last, Jeremy nodded. "I'll tell you what you want to know. I'll tell you because your nephew and I are ... brothers. And because he tried to be kind to me. But when I've told you, you'll have to go, quickly."

"Jeremy, you ..."

"I said I'll tell you!" Jeremy yelled. "Listen!"

The boy told his story, and Malcolm sat down again and listened carefully to every word. When Jeremy had finished, he said, "What you did was very brave. Greyback can't have been pleased."

The memory of something dreadful distorted Jeremy's young features. "No," he said faintly. "He wasn't pleased."

Malcolm checked his watch. "We can only have minutes to spare," he murmured.

Jeremy strode to the door. "It's time you left," he urged, shooting back the first bolt.

"It's time we both left," Malcolm amended. "Leave the door."

But it was too late. Already, Jeremy had unbolted the door all the way and opened it a fraction to let Malcolm out and then, with a sudden violent force, it burst right open and Jeremy went flying as Greyback forced his way in. Malcolm sprang to his feet, wand in one hand, stick in the other. Greyback sneered.

"Marley. How nice. What a day this has been for reunions. First your brother-in-law, and now you."

"John?" Malcolm exclaimed with a shock.

"Bumped into him at the Ministry. We had a nice little chat. Caught up on old times."

Malcolm felt anger and fear mount at once. "You talked ... about that night?"

"In a roundabout way." Greyback eyed Malcolm with interest, then rumbled with anger, "So, you never told him, is that it? Never told him it was I who bit his son. That explains a lot. His arrogance, the lad's ignorance ... yes. It was you. You deceived them."

"I protected them from you, in the best way I could think of!"

"How touching. Now let's see how well you can protect yourself!"

He flew at Malcolm without further warning, causing him to drop both wand and stick as he struggled against the bigger man's powerful hands around his throat. Jeremy leapt onto Greyback from behind and began tugging frantically at his arms. Greyback released Malcolm with a roar of fury and started down the tunnel, trying to shake the boy off him as he went, repeatedly beating Jeremy's slight body against the rocky walls. Malcolm retrieved his possessions and went after them. He had promised to help Jeremy, and he still needed the boy to repeat his story in front of the Order, so everyone could witness the truth. He could not leave without him.

They came out into the open. Jeremy's grip on Greyback was loosening, and with one more heave, he was thrown to the ground. Greyback spat on the boy disgustedly and reverted his attention to Malcolm. Panting, Jeremy rolled onto his side.

"Go, if you really can, Mr. Marley," he said painfully. "We're out of time."

Even as he spoke, the light changed, and his voice faded into a low growl. Malcolm witnessed the sheer terror on his face less than a second before it was obliterated by sprouting fur and his whole body changed its shape. At the same time, Fenrir Greyback began to transform, welcoming the full moon with open arms and an ear-splitting howl.

Now was definitely the time to leave, to stay here would be folly. But Jeremy was just a kid who couldn't help himself, and he had called himself Remus's brother. That alone was enough to keep Malcolm where he was. He could not bring himself to abandon the boy. But the werewolves' transformation was now complete, and the larger was already advancing on him with fangs bared. The smaller one struggled up off the ground. It was limping, but its snarl was both hungry and menacing.

* * *

"It's too late," John remarked heavily. "If he hasn't returned home yet, there's little we can ..."

He was interrupted by a howl that set the trees around them shaking, followed by a ferocious growl and then a scream of pain. He glanced at Bridget, whose face looked ghostly white in the moonlight, and she reached for his hand as they both broke into a run. They arrived just in time to see Malcolm roll over, thus throwing a small but fierce-looking werewolf off, revealing the now torn and blood-stained back of his overcoat, then jump up and face the larger werewolf, which was already pouncing when Bridget caught it mid-air with an impediment jinx. Malcolm whirled around.

"Bridget! John! What are you doing here?!"

"Saving your skin, if it's not too late," Bridget retorted with an anxious glance at his back.

"I don't need saving!" He dodged both Greyback and Jeremy and glared fiercely. "I've got my escape route planned."

"Oh, really?"

"The stick. I turned it into a Portkey." Malcolm shot a hex at Greyback, causing him to go cross-eyed very briefly.

"Where is it, though?" Bridget demanded.

"Behind you. John, look out!"

Malcolm flung himself at his friend and knocked him out of Jeremy's way just in time.

"Sorry. I-I sort of ... froze," John apologised. He looked up, and suddenly shouted, "Bridget!"

She screamed. Greyback's long, cruel claws had slashed her wand arm. Malcolm sprang towards her with an angry shout, and John focussed his attention on Jeremy.

"Bridget, darling ..."

"I'm all right," she said through clenched teeth, retrieving her wand. "But I think we'd better leave quickly."

Malcolm positioned himself in front of her. "Pick up the stick, it'll take you back to Faith. John and I can finish up here."

"We'll leave together."

"Not without Jeremy."

"Malcolm, he's dangerous!"

"Do as I say!"

"No!"

Greyback picked up a lump of wood in his teeth and hurled it at them. Malcolm ducked, Bridget stumbled, and her right hand touched the stick on the ground, while her left still clung to Malcolm's arm. Within seconds the wood had vanished, and they found themselves in a familiar clearing where there was no sign of Greyback or Jeremy or ...

"John!" Malcolm shouted.

He pulled Bridget to her feet and made hurriedly for the Apparition spot.

"No, wait, you're already injured!" she called after him, but he was gone before she had finished.

Faith came running towards her from the house.

"Bridget - your arm," she panted. "Where's John? And Malcolm?"

But Bridget's eye had fallen on the open door of the hut. "Where's Remus?" she whispered.

* * *

John hadn't had much time to think about where and how the other two had gone. He had read a lot about werewolves over the years, and learnt that, apparently, they made no distinction between one human prey and another, but it seemed to him that Greyback was determined to tear him, personally, limb from limb and devour him in small portions. Seconds after Malcolm and Bridget had vanished, he had narrowly escaped Greyback's jaws several times between warding off the younger werewolf with careful jinxes, and was sporting gashes and bruises all over his body. He knew he stood little chance, he was not that good a physical fighter - he had never been anywhere near as good as Malcolm in that department. Jeremy jumped at him and threw him off balance, sending him sprawling on the dry leaves, and Greyback pounced on top of him. The werewolf's muzzle was inches from his face, and the arm he held up to shield himself, he knew, would not hold Greyback for a second. He steeled himself for the inevitable blow, now feeling the second werewolf's breath behind him, too.

But the blow never came. Something large, black and hairy appeared from among the bushes and collided heavily with Greyback, rolling away with him across the leafy ground. Next second, a stag entered the scene and beat back the smaller werewolf with his antlers. A growl from a few feet away made John turn his head quickly, and he had a glimpse of a grey-brown werewolf, smaller than Greyback but much larger than Jeremy, before the black dog jumped across him again and seized the newcomer by the neck, dragging the third werewolf with him towards Greyback. Greyback sprang, and amazingly, though the dog now released the other werewolf it did not turn against it, but fought alongside the dog against the huge, terrifying monster that was Greyback.

John scrambled to his feet and backed away. He soon lost track of who was fighting whom, it all seemed just a tangle of fur and paws and antlers. He heard something in the dry leaves by his feet, and looked down to see a rat, strangely tugging at the hem of his robes. Just then, a call echoed through the woods.

"John! John, where are you?"

"Malcolm! Over here!" he shouted back.

Malcolm came running, heedless of the twigs and brambles that clutched at him, and came out beside John, panting, "I misjudged a bit, Apparated too far west. What the ...?"

He stared at the animals. John shrugged perplexedly. The rat was still pulling his robes. He looked down, and it scurried away, then stopped and looked back at them.

"What's it doing?"

"I think it wants us to follow it," John said wonderingly.

They tested this theory, and sure enough, when they began to walk towards the rat, it moved on. It led them to the tunnel entrance.

"What is this place?"

"Greyback's den," Malcolm explained. "But seeing as he's out here, we'll probably be safer in there. Now, if I could just figure out a way to get Jeremy ..."

At that moment, the third werewolf broke free of the fighting and bounded towards them. Malcolm shoved John into the tunnel, just as the stag intervened and barred the way, causing the other creature to crash heavily against its antlers. The werewolf howled with pain. The rat squeaked. Malcolm and John hurtled along the tunnel in the dark, following the sound of the rat's short claws on the stony ground. But when they reached the open doorway of Greyback's underground lair, both men froze. The rat had vanished. In its place, right there in the opening, stood Peter Pettigrew.

"W-what ..."

"Not now. Get in!" Peter yelled.

The two men obeyed, but Peter did not shut the door.

"What are you waiting for?" Malcolm cried.

"The others. Have a look round, do you see another room?"

"Yes," said Malcolm, spotting the second door.

"Can it be locked, does it look solid?"

Malcolm took a closer look. "I should think so. Why?"

"We don't want to leave Remus out there with Greyback if we can help it," Peter replied shortly. He yelled down the tunnel, "It's okay, bring him along!"

The noises drew nearer. Snapping, barking, growling ... then the stag appeared and shot through the doorway, followed by a werewolf and finally the black dog. Greyback was just behind them, but Peter and Malcolm threw their weight into the door and slammed it shut, bolted it tightly and waited for a moment to see whether it really would hold against Greyback's furious attempts to break it down. To their relief, it held. Meanwhile, the other werewolf had been guided into the second room. Malcolm ran over and quickly locked and bolted that door, too.

"Remus?" John breathed meekly, staring at the closed door.

Peter nodded. "Yes."

John sank onto a rickety chair. The stag and the dog chose that moment to change back into their human forms. Malcolm stared into their guilty faces. John seemed too exhausted to even show surprise.

"Y-you ..." Malcolm began, but James cut him short.

"Where's Mum?"

"Safe," Malcolm assured him. "Back at home with Faith. Since when have you three been ...?"

"Since school," Sirius told him. "We did it so we could be with Remus when he transformed. It's a big secret, mind you. No one knows except us and Bridget, and it's got to stay that way, all right? It is illegal, after all."

He sounded rather proud. Malcolm smiled. Then he glanced at John, and his smile faded again. James gingerly touched the back of Malcolm's coat. Malcolm felt it, and said, "It's all right. Just a few scratches, nothing serious. John ..." He approached his friend cautiously. "Are you hurt anywhere?"

John did not answer, so Malcolm looked him over. He did not seem to have sustained any injuries worse than anyone else had. They all looked somewhat the worse for wear.

"What happened to Jeremy?" Malcolm finally asked of James and Sirius.

James looked unhappy. "I'm not sure. The last time I saw him, he wasn't looking too good. But we had to concentrate on getting away from Greyback, and making sure we got Remus somewhere safe without you two getting hurt."

* * *

Daylight and Death

None of them slept that night, and the hours passed slowly. Conversation was slow. Malcolm kept looking at his watch, as it was too dark at the end of such a long tunnel to tell when it was day. Everyone sighed with relief when at last he announced that the full moon should have passed now.

They cautiously opened the door into the other room and found Remus, once again human, asleep on the floor. John stood dazedly in the doorway, watching him, while the others began to make plans.

"First of all, we've got to find out if Greyback's still hanging round out there," Sirius said. "Malcolm and I can go. I'll change back into Padfoot though, don't want Greyback to see who we really are if he is still out there."

"I'll come too," James volunteered, changing back into Prongs.

Malcolm turned to John. "Will you be all right?"

John nodded, and Malcolm and the two Animagi went outside. Peter hung around near the main door, while John crouched beside Remus and gently examined his wounds. They were not all that much worse than usual, and he drew his wand to begin healing them as best he could without potions and ointment. Remus stirred when John began examining the bruises on his chest left by Prongs's antlers.

He blinked a few times, then murmured hoarsely, "Dad? Is everyone all right?"

John had not yet found his voice again, so he merely nodded. Remus propped himself up against the wall. John was watching him with a strange expression that made him uncomfortable after a while.

"What is it?" he asked.

"I .. don't know," his father said uncertainly. "It's just ... knowing it was Greyback who bit you ..."

"It really changes very little."

"It changes everything!" John protested. "It means that, after all, it was my fault. If I had dealt with Greyback differently ..."

Remus gripped his father's shoulder purposefully. "I'm sure Greyback was dealt with as was necessary, and the blame for what happened to me, to Jeremy and to anyone else he ever bit lies with him alone, not you. You did all you could to stop him."

"No, I didn't. I didn't kill him. I had opportunities, but I wasted them all. I left him alive, left him to kill and torture and bite. I left him to bite you. You can't expect me to forgive myself for that."

"Dad, please don't do this to yourself," Remus begged him. "You're not to blame for anything Greyback did, not you. You only ever acted out of love. Love for Mum, for me ... for human life. That can't be wrong."

"But I never made the sacrifice I should have made - a small sacrifice really - of Greyback's life and my innocence for the lives of so many others."

Seeing his father's haggard face, torn by guilt, Remus ran out of comforting words. It pained him to see his father like this, but he knew that the words did not exist that would lift the blame from him that he burdened himself with.

Feeling there was nothing else left to say, he said quietly, "Whatever you may think, no one else sees it that way. And if never having been bitten, being free of the wolf, meant having a father who could kill self-righteously without a second thought - or having any other father but you ... I choose the lot I ended up with. I'm proud to be your son."

John's eyes filled with tears at these words, and he pulled Remus into his arms. They stayed like this for some moments, until Peter appeared in the doorway and gave a discreet cough. Father and son broke apart and looked up.

"The others are coming back," Peter announced. "They've found Jeremy."

John and Remus got to their feet, and stood aside to let Malcolm enter the room, carrying the badly wounded boy in his arms. He laid him on the sparse bed that stood against the wall.

"Find some bandages if you can," he told James and Sirius behind him, "or anything else we can use. John, you've had more experience at this sort of thing than I have ..."

John sat on the edge of the bed and carefully began removing the blood-stained clothes to examine Jeremy's wounds. He ran his wand over many of them, healing them with a murmured spell, and bound others with the old rags Sirius and James brought, but when he stood his expression was not hopeful.

"I think there's more to his injuries than we can see on the surface," he said quietly to the others.

"Hadn't we better get him to St. Mungo's then?" Peter suggested.

"I don't know that moving him is such a good idea. But I'm no Healer."

Just then, Jeremy stirred. "Mr. Marley?" he whispered.

Malcolm stepped forward. "Yes?"

"Tell ... tell your nephew ..."

"I'm right here," Remus said, approaching the bed himself.

Jeremy looked up at him. "I'm sorry," he murmured weakly. "I ..."

His eyes shifted, then stopped, staring blankly at the wall past Remus's shoulder.

"Jeremy?" Malcolm shook him. "Jeremy!"

But Jeremy did not move. He would never move again.

"Poor kid," Sirius muttered.

Remus asked, "Did ... we kill him?"

"No." Malcolm straightened up with a sigh. "It was Greyback who killed him. He killed him when he murdered his family, bit him and brought him here."

* * *

"It could have been me," Remus remarked quietly later that day. "If you and Uncle Malcolm hadn't fought Greyback off after he'd bitten me, I could have ended up like Jeremy."

He was looking at his father, but John was silent, had been silent all afternoon. They were all seated together in the Potters' living room - Remus, his parents, Malcolm and Bridget, with her wand arm bandaged and in a sling, Peter, Sirius, James and Lily. The latter turned to Malcolm.

"But when you first found Jeremy, he told you about last month, didn't he? You said you'd talked to him before the full moon came out."

"Yes."

"What did he say?"

All eyes came to rest on Malcolm. He began slowly, "It was Greyback's plan to lure Remus to Fencombe that night, and make sure he'd be there when the full moon came out. It seems he thought if Remus once experienced what it was like to give in to the wolf, he wouldn't want to go back ... and if that didn't work, well, Greyback wasn't bothered what became of him. Jeremy was to be the bait," Malcolm explained. "He was to approach Remus and beg him for help getting away from Greyback, and then he was supposed to suggest they talk later, at the village. If you had been there," Malcolm said to Remus, "you wouldn't have been able to stop yourself, of course ..."

"But Greyback's plan didn't work out like that," Lily said eagerly. "Did it?"

"No. Jeremy started out following Greyback's orders, but couldn't bring himself to pull it through. He lured Remus to Greyback's den instead, and drugged him heavily with potion."

Remus sounded cautiously hopeful when he asked, "Then ... I didn't hurt anyone?"

"You weren't even conscious," Malcolm said with a reassuring smile. "Jeremy told me that when he came back to let you go early next morning, you were still out. You hadn't moved a muscle all night."

"That must have been some potion, to knock out a werewolf for a whole night like that!" Sirius exclaimed.

"Perhaps you should have some of the stuff every month," James suggested, his light-hearted laugh not quite succeeding in masking his relief.

But Malcolm was shaking his head. "I wouldn't advise it. Too many doses, and you might never wake up again."

"You mean," said Lily, shocked, "it was the Draught of Living Death?"

"Yes."

Sirius whistled.

"In fact, it was probably sheer luck that Jeremy didn't overdose you," Malcolm added to Remus.

"Or providence," said Faith, and took her son's hand between hers.

Malcolm went on, "Jeremy didn't tell me how Greyback reacted when he found his plans had been foiled. But he did say Remus was still unconscious when they dropped him off in London. The rest we know."

"It was brave of Jeremy to defy Greyback like that," said James.

"I'm glad we know the truth now," Lily said. "And we can all put our minds at rest."

She smiled at Remus. His return smile was watery, at best. He said slowly, "Jeremy shouldn't have had to die. He was so young ..."

"That's Greyback's particular brand of terror, striking at the young," said Malcolm gravely.

Silence fell. Lily broke it eventually, smiling round at them all and saying brightly, "Well, I think this calls for a celebration - the return of Remus's clear conscience, Jeremy's bravery ..."

"... and that everyone's back safe and sound," agreed Bridget.

"I'll see to drinks," Sirius said, making for the kitchen.

Soon they were all holding glasses of elf-made wine, pumpkin juice or Firewhiskey. Remus extricated himself from his mother's grasp and rose, clearing his throat. He looked round at everyone.

"I'm not very good at making speeches, but ... I just want to say ... thank you. I know you all stuck your necks out for me last night, and I appreciate it. I ..."

"Shut up and drink, Moony," said Sirius, giving him a friendly thump on the back and tipping back a large gulp of his own Firewhiskey. "Now, who's for a round of Gobstones?"

They spent hours playing and laughing together. Even John, sombre though his mood had been all day, couldn't help but chuckle once or twice. That night, however, he went to bed with a heavy heart, and after a few hours of trying in vain to get off to sleep, got up, slipped on a dressing gown and went out into the garden. He gazed up at the moon and stars, and struggled to grasp all the things that had happened, not only in the past two days, but the forty-nine years of his life. He remembered his father, lying on his deathbed, telling his only son not to worry, or to grieve, promising that everything would be all right, and that to everything in life there was a reason. He had tried to believe that. For a long while, he had even succeeded. But now ... now he could see no reason, and the world seemed a vast, cold and empty place until ...

"John?"

He turned to see Faith standing right behind him, her pale face bathed in moonlight, dark eyes looking up at him full of love and anxiety. She came closer and slipped her arms around him, resting her head against his chest.

"Did you know?" he asked her shakily after a while. "Did you know ... that it was Greyback?"

"Yes, I knew Greyback was the one who bit Remus."

"And yet you never said ... never blamed me ... even when my mother blamed you."

"Only Greyback was to blame."

"I'm the one who incurred his wrath. He was striking at me when he bit our son. He wanted to hurt me. And by God, he succeeded. He could hardly have picked a better way."

"He can only succeed if you let him," said Faith, looking up at him and shaking him gently. "If you refuse to feel blame for what happened to Remus, then Greyback can't touch you."

"That's easier said than done. How can I not blame myself, when I know Remus could have had a normal, happy childhood if only I ..."

"Do you think his childhood was so very unhappy?"

"What?" John blinked.

"Did Remus ever complain that he was unhappy? Did he seem miserable to you?"

John hesitated, then admitted, "Only when ... when he thought that I was ashamed of having a werewolf for a son. When I was distant ..."

"In fact, only when you let what had happened to him make you feel guilty. At all other times, he may have had more difficulties than other children, but he had you, and he had me, and he had our love. And that's what matters, now as much as it did then. If you let Greyback's deed make you feel guilty, then your grief will make Remus unhappy, and it will make me unhappy. I can't bear to see you in such pain, John. I'm afraid that it will break you, and without you, I ... I don't know where I'd be. Where any of us would be. I need you to beat this, John. I need you to defy Greyback, and not let him win."

"You expect too much of me, Faith," John said heavily. "You've always seen me as a better man than I ever was."

"I love you," she said simply. "But I know that others think as well of you as I do. Malcolm, Bridget, Remus ... we all see a good man who deserves to be happy, and not one of us wants to see you hurt like this. That's why Malcolm and I kept this from you in the first place. You attach too much blame to yourself, John. Please, try to forget the past, and let's just be glad we have the present. Don't blame yourself because your son became the victim of a dangerous and brutal man. Be proud that he has risen above that, and that he's become the man he is ... and that he's so much like you," she added with a loving smile.

John remained looking doubtful, but he held her closer in the moonlight, and kissed her tenderly. Upstairs in the cottage, Remus withdrew from his bedroom window, the frown on his brow smoothing out a little, and crept back into bed.

"I shall have to leave the Ministry," said John a while later, when he and Faith had gone back up to bed. "I can't go back to work there, not now."

"What will you do instead?"

"I don't know." He stroked her hair. "I'll find something."