Geneticus

CHAPTER FIFTEEN: GRAVEYARDS & WEREWOLVES

Rain poured down, and Mulder felt he'd give anything for one of his large umbrellas. It was weird to be checking out a crime scene wearing robes and not having Scully by his side, and the rain certainly wasn't making anything easier.

At first glance, the graveyard seemed calm, even pleasant. There was no evil vibe around the area, nothing to suggest that something terrible had occurred there just a few nights ago.

The tombstone of Mr. Tom Riddle was quickly found, though there was no sign that a fourteen-year-old boy had recently been strapped to it. There was also no sign of a cauldron, and though Harry had said that Death Eaters had stood in a circle around the whole thing, there was no sign of anyone having approached the grave in years. Indeed, the grave was quite overgrown, much more so than any of the other graves in the area.

"Could there have been a spell put on this to make everything grow more quickly?"

Artemisia, who was a few yards back watching Mulder intently, came forward and said, "It's possible, though this looks more like the sort of accelerated process that happens after any kind of powerful magic is concentrated in one area. I remember reading about these sorts of signs from old reports during the first war."

Mulder stood up, his thighs aching. "So you weren't part of the group back then?"

The witch shook her head, droplets of rain flying from the tips of her brown hair. "I was only a kid when You-Know-Who was defeated. Started at Hogwarts just a year later. My parents were a bit unnerved when I was sorted into Slytherin, but it was actually kind of nice to be in there and learn that not everyone in that house was a You-Know-Who supporter."

Mulder couldn't help but notice she refused to say her enemy's name. "Why do you call him 'You-Know-Who?' No one else seems to."

Artemisia shrugged. "It's a force of habit, really. I know some wizards who are simply afraid to say or hear the name Voldemort, but I'm not one of them. My parents and my sisters were, though, so I've always deferred to their preference."

Since the meeting two nights ago, Mulder had been told story after story about the first war versus the Dark Lord Voldemort. Most detailed the horrible ways Voldemort had tortured and killed those who fought him and those he wished to purge from the world. The story of the Longbottoms' torment by the Lestranges was particularly perverse, Mulder thought, and his sympathy for young Neville grew. He couldn't help but wonder how Snape felt when hearing (no doubt not for the first time) of how Neville's parents were tortured, and how he could continually belittle the boy in class.

"Look, Mr. Mulder, I don't think we're going to find anything helpful here," Artemisia said. "Let's head back to headquarters, we'll report in and see what they want us to do next."

Mulder nodded. "You're probably right." He frowned, then asked, "Do we have to Floo back?"

Artemisia smiled. "It's not the most comfortable way of traveling, I know, but until you learn how to Apparate, it's certainly the fastest. Well, that or a Portkey, and we can't set those up right now. You go on first, and I'll be just behind you, right?"

They tramped through the muddy graveyard and into the church, quickly finding the fireplace, which had been connected to the Floo Network for the afternoon. With great reluctance, Mulder grabbed a bit of the sandy powder from the pouch Artemisia had brought with her from the hill. He chucked the lot into the fireplace, and a green fire roared into existence. He spared a glance at Artemisia, who just smiled encouragingly.

"Where are we heading to now?"

"Stonehenge Hills."

"Right..." He took a deep breath, then stepped into the green flames and said loudly, "Stonehenge Hills!"

The fireplace sucked him in, and he twirled through the magical passageway, fighting soot and a sharp breeze, waiting to see his destination highlighted by green flame.

He almost missed it, but he flung himself out of the passageway and bumped into the room.

Soot hovered around his head for a few moments, then settled. He could see that the room was almost empty save Sage and Dash who were munching on some nuts at the table, still left over from its conjuring at the meeting.

"...can't live without their Dash," Sage was saying, a hint of sarcasm in her voice.

"Oh, stop it, Sage. You act like it was my choice. I would *love* to get out of the League and teach at Hogwarts for a while, but you know as well as I do that wherever I go, the Prophet and GQ will follow. Whether I like it or not," he added with a sigh.

Not wanting to get in the middle of a sibling argument, Mulder quickly stood and hurried out of the room. He bumped into Remus in the small kitchen just a few doors down the hallway.

"How did everything go at the site, Mulder?" Remus asked, pulling out two more slices of bread to start a sandwich for Mulder. "Hungry?"

"Yes, thanks. The graveyard didn't produce much evidence, I'm afraid. Artemisia said there was some sort of magical accelerated grass and weed growth around Tom Riddle's tombstone. Other than that, no sign that anything out of the ordinary had occurred."

Remus handed Mulder the sandwich. "Really, no one expected you to find anything much at all." The two men ate their lunch quietly for a moment, then Remus said, "Sirius said you've enlisted his help in learning the basics of wizardry."

Mulder nodded, then swallowed. "It only makes sense, I think. If I'm going to be bringing my son into this world, and I'm capable of helping him learn the ropes, then I'd give anything to do so."

Remus smiled. "Sirius will be a good teacher. You'll need a wand of your own, though. Are you planning to go back to Diagon Alley for it?"

Mulder thought for a moment. "Probably not. You said Mr. Ollivander remembers everyone who walks through his door. If I were to show up again, it would probably raise a flag or two."

With a shrug, Remus said, "Possibly, but Ollivander has no loyalties to anyone. But...you two are going to the States, right? You could probably find a shop there. I'm sure Addie could give you some places to look."

Mulder grinned, thinking of the look on Scully's face when he started practicing magic in the living room with a fugitive wizard. "That should work nicely, then." He paused a moment, then asked, "Sirius isn't mad at me, is he? I got a weird vibe from him last night."

Remus sighed. "He was a -- er, a bit peeved when you went to talk to Dumbledore, but it was mostly because he thought you'd been lying to us. He knows you haven't, so no worries. He'll be fine."

"Good, because the last thing I need is for my wizard teacher to have a grudge against me. Could turn me into a newt, I bet..."

Remus laughed. "No, that's too predictable for Sirius. He'd go with something far more exotic, I'm sure."

Mulder smiled. It occurred to him that this was his first moment truly alone with the werewolf, and he found himself bursting with questions.

"When were you bitten?"

Taken aback by the sudden change of subject, it took Remus a moment to answer. "I should probably get used to that question, shouldn't I?" he said with a grin. As he launched into his story, though, the grin faded.

"I was five, nearly six. I can't remember the night it happened at all. My family tells me I was just out exploring, like any young boy on a midsummer's night. It passed my bedtime and I hadn't returned. My dad set out to find me, and I was barely alive. Next thing I know, I woke up in my bed."

He reached up and touched his chin, stroking it lightly as he related his story. "The first few months were tough. We really didn't know what to expect, and my own feelings of stress didn't help to keep things calm."

"How did your parents react to all this?" Mulder asked.

"My parents were as good as they could be," said Remus with an affectionate smile. "No wizard was entirely non-prejudiced against werewolves, and my parents were typical. When it was their own son that was bitten, though...they would have moved heaven and earth to find a cure. We all adapted after that. During most of the month I was a normal boy." He sighed and ran a hand through his graying hair.

"But the week leading up to the full moon, when I'd start feeling the pull and getting moody, they'd try to be comforting -- if a bit distant, especially during those first few moons -- and I'd always be stubborn, wanting to handle everything on my own. When I got older I often wondered if they were afraid that if properly irked I would become a wolf earlier, without warning."

Mulder sympathized with that feeling; more than once as a teenager he'd had the idea that his mother was afraid of him. At the time he'd thought it was just because he was growing tall and strong and reminded Teena of her imposing husband, but now he reconsidered, wondering if perhaps she was afraid his teenage moodiness would result in accidental magic that couldn't be easily ignored.

"Are you close to your family at all, now?"

"Not really." Remus shrugged, though his eyes spoke of a deeper pain. "My brother, who was away at school when I was bitten, never really understood my situation at all, and probably to this day considers me a monster. My sister cared for me while she was at home, but I kept to my own group of friends in school, as did she. Sometimes, after the moons, she'd come to check up on me, but she wasn't over protective, especially one she learned that Sirius, James, and Peter knew what I was and were looking after me as well. Since I finished school and left home, I haven't really spent much time with my parents, either. Being acquainted with a werewolf is almost as horrible as being one yourself, you know. Just your typical wizarding views." This last bit was delivered with heavy sarcasm.

Mulder clapped his hand to Remus's shoulder. "Well, in the FBI, being associated with Spooky Mulder was almost as career-halting as being Spooky Mulder himself. I'm not afraid of being friends with weirdoes." He offered Remus a small smile of reassurance.

Remus smiled back and sipped his butterbeer. "So, you never ever suspected you weren't a Muggle?"

Mulder rolled his eyes. "I should probably get used to that question, shouldn't I?"

Remus raised his eyebrows. "Turnabout's fair play."

With a grin, Mulder raised his glass. "Cheers!"

END CHAPTER FIFTEEN