Paper Wings

Rules of Memory

Rufus growled.

For just a moment, Remus wished a full moon would rise and he could show this slobbering mutt just who he was dealing with. He glared at the animal through Disillusioned eyes as Avery and MacNair stepped closer.

Avery reached Remus first, feeling blindly for whatever Rufus had smelt.

"Ah!" he shouted. "Walden, something's here."

MacNair strode over to Avery and began probing the air around him. Remus' skin crawled as MacNair's hands came closer and closer. His nostrils flared, but he couldn't so much as flinch when the Death Eaters ran their hands up his arms. His own hands were too far from his wand to be of much use, so, temples pulsing with fury, Remus could only watch.

"Disillusioned, you reckon?" Avery asked.

"Yes. Reori!" MacNair tapped his wand against Remus, who felt a wave of warmth slowly break over him. He tried to set his face in an innocently puzzled expression, as though anyone could be caught on an otherwise deserted road, Disillusioned and tracking a couple of Death Eaters.

"You!" Avery yelped.

Remus almost managed to raise an eyebrow.

"What are you doing here?" Avery's voice registered an almost comical mix of shock and disgust.

Remus blinked.

"He'll be able to speak in a minute," said MacNair.

As promised, Remus could soon move his mouth almost normally and his body very slowly.

"Last time I saw you," Avery continued, "you were cowering at the business end of my wand."

"I don't know that I'd call it cowering," Remus stalled. The more he could keep them talking, the further the jinxes would wear off, and the longer he might be able to live. "Besides, if I recall, you were too busy becoming intimately acquainted with an octopus to do me much harm."

"Your friend isn't here to rescue you this time, and besides, you owe me." Avery leered, and Remus felt he placed more stress on the word friend than was absolutely necessary.

Remus swallowed. The air was feeling more like air again. In another moment or two, he'd be able to reach his wand. "True." Remus glanced at the hair sitting happily atop of Avery's head.

Avery followed the look, and quickly reached up to ensure that his brown locks were still there. Remus seized the momentary lapse in concentration to grab for his wand. Forcing his arm down with all his might, he almost reached it before overbalancing. MacNair, startled by the sudden movement, quickly conjured cords that bound Remus' hands and feet as he fell slowly to the ground. The next moment, he covered Remus with an Anti-Apparation jinx. Remus swore softly.

"Quit messing around," MacNair snapped at Avery. "We have to decide what to do with him."

"Well, that seems pretty simple." Avery levelled his wand at Remus. "Avada-"

"Stop, you thick nit! We can't kill him 'til we find out why he's following us and how much he knows."

"Well," Avery aimed a kick at Remus' stomach, "why are you following us?"

Gasping for breath, Remus tried to shrug. Have to keep them talking, he reminded himself. "I wasn't following you. I was tracking a heard of... Thestrals that live in these parts."

"Aren't any Thestrals here." MacNair replied, running a finger down the gleaming blade of his axe. "I'd know."

Rufus growled by MacNair's side. He walked over to Remus and began to sniff, almost touching noses. Remus resisted the urge to growl back. Rufus returned to MacNair, and made the odd, almost-talking noises again.

"You don't say, little brother." MacNair's eyes glinted with amusement. He said to Avery, "Seems our little poppet here is more than he appears. Rufus says we've caught ourselves a werewolf." He paused and cracked his massive knuckles. "Ah, but this will be fun. Bring him with us. We'll set up in the wood."

***

They dropped Remus, bound and gagged, by the edge of a clearing and went into the darkening forest in search of firewood. Remus almost warned them not to cut the branches from trees of the Old Forest, but the foul-smelling scarf stuffed in his mouth and a touch of spite prevented him. Avery returned with an armful of greenwood on which he cast a Dehydration Charm. After lighting a merry fire, he stood in front of Remus, fingering his wand and smiling cruelly.

"Any interest in talking yet, werewolf?"

"I 'ink 'ot," Remus mumbled through the scarf.

"You do-gooders are always so stubborn. We'll see if this helps."

He held a large silver ring up against Remus' cheek. Nothing happened, and Remus looked innocently up at him.

MacNair and Rufus came into the clearing with a rabbit apiece. Rufus ripped his apart in the flickering firelight and licked the warm blood from his lips. MacNair looked at Avery and frowned.

"Just what d'you think you're doing there?" he asked, incredulous.

"It's silver." Avery tossed the ring over to MacNair, who threw it back.

"Silver or no, you could poke him with that all night. It's not going to do a thing unless the moon is full, which it won't be for another few days. And take my word, under a full moon, you'll want to be armed with more than just a loop of silver."

"Alright, since you're the expert on these creatures," Avery spat, "you make 'im talk."

"First off, you need one of these." MacNair drew a fine silver dagger from a sheath at his belt. "The silver only works if you can get it inside them." Remus watched with wide eyes as MacNair walked around the fire and knelt beside him with the air of a professor lecturing a particularly thick pupil.

MacNair roughly grabbed Remus' bound hands and slowly drew the blade across his wrist, just above the line of rope. Each millimetre sliced by the blade burned exponentially more. Lines of liquid fire ran up his arm, through tense muscle, and into his pounding heart. Remus barely stifled the urge to yelp and squirm away from the burning blade. Red blood dripped slowly from the shallow wound.

"Just a preview," he said to Remus, patting him on the shoulder. "You think about that while we have ourselves some dinner. Maybe afterwards you'll consider talking. Though," he paused, considering, "it's almost more fun if you don't. They say this forest is haunted; you can give them a reason to believe."

MacNair walked away, and the Death Eaters cooked their rabbit over the fire. Remus stomach grumbled loudly, and they laughed. He rolled over, trying to staunch the steady trickle of blood from his wrist.

Facing the dark trees, Remus had to admit that he didn't know what to do. Avery was right; he had no friend to rescue him this time.

The memory of their last meeting would have made Remus laugh if his current situation was not so dire. He clearly remembered the day he'd run through the manor clutching a yellow leather-bound ledger to his chest as though it would protect him from the next flash of light. He didn't remember feeling terrified, only the thumps of his racing heart as he reached for his wand. Then the wall beside his head exploded in a shower of green sparks. Avery had flung the spell wide and was now grappling with an impressively large sea creature whose eight arms and myriad suckers were wrapped around his head.

Remus had aimed his wand and Stupefied the Death Eater.

"What kept you, Sirius?" he'd asked.

"Oh, you know, the usual," Sirius had replied, catching his breath after dashing into the room.

"Barmaids this time? Or Banoffee Pie?"

He smiled. "Barmaids with Banoffee Pie it was."

"Thanks for the well-timed octopus."

"Whenever you need an octopus, consider me your man. Actually, even if you don't need one...." Sirius had laughed. "I missed anyway. Meant to transfigure his head, not his great, shaggy toupee."

"Ah. Well, you'll have to console yourself with points for creativity on the run. Speaking of which, let's get out of here before the others arrive, shall we?"

"Aw, Moony, we can take them."

"All the same, I'd rather not get too friendly with another Killing Curse today."

Sirius had looked like he was about to argue the point.

"Sirius, we've got what we came for," he held up the ledger. "Out. Now."

They'd fled the building and Apparated safely to headquarters.

Later, Remus would wonder what Sirius had been doing when he was supposed to be on lookout for people like Avery.

***

Shadows and light from the fire danced among the trees, and a thin curl of smoke reached toward the sky. Remus watched, mesmerised by the play of light and dark, contemplating and discarding various plans of escape.

He blinked and stared hard at the shadows. Flickering in and among the trees were several nebulous female forms. They were pale, little more than wisps of fog that blended with the shapes and colours around them. Over the noisy chewing, crackling firewood, and self-satisfied grunts, Remus thought he heard distraught, almost-lyrical whispers from all around.

Wood Nymphs.

They approached slowly, forms coalescing and reflecting the firelight, limbs swaying like branches in the wind. Large, emerald eyes glistened with tears, and deep frowns marked their long faces. Some tore at their willowy hair, and others fell to their knobbly knees. Not one was singing.

The nearest of the group drifted over to where Remus lay, her long, root-like toes dipping into the earth as she walked over the cold ground. Behind Remus, the Death Eaters were now sitting against the trees, full from their meal and not noticing a thing.

The Nymph knelt beside Remus, soft birch bark skin so close he could smell its mossy freshness.

A voice, at once alone and part of a chorus, sounded inside his head. As soft as a breeze over pine needles it whispered, Blood has been shed in our forest.

Remus nodded.

Blood of our sisters, our friends, and dark blood, your blood. Why have you come here? it snapped, suddenly as sharp as lightning through an ancient trunk

Remus thought the words, and knew that the Nymph understood. To find my friend.

You did not tear apart our home.

Remus shook his head. They did.

They killed our friends. They took life from the Old Forest. They bring darkness but vengeance is not ours to take. Now, deep as roots that would never see frost, the voice sighed.

Remus nodded. I can help. If you'll only release me. His wand was lying nearby; Avery and MacNair had tossed it into the bushes. I'll need my wand.

The Wood Nymph looked down and laid one long, branch-like hand on each of the ropes holding him. The twine became brittle twigs that Remus snapped with just a movement. His wand materialised in his open hand.

Thank you.

The Wood Nymph nodded. You must not shed blood in the Old Forest, she reminded him sagely before fading back amongst the trees.

Remus pulled the soggy scarf from his mouth. Rufus began to growl as MacNair stood and began, "Well, now to deal with our little friend--"

"Obliviate!" The spell burst from Remus' wand, strong enough and cast wide enough to hit all three at once. Standing slowly, Remus dusted off his robes while his captors looked around confusedly.

"What just happened? Who're you?" Avery turned to Remus.

"Confundio," Remus muttered, then, "I'm Lucius, don't you fools remember me?"

The two were instantly deferent. Even the dog whined and sat, tail between its legs.

"Mr. Malfoy," stammered Avery, "I... I don't know what happened. I know you asked us to do something."

"Can't remember what it was though. I am quite certain we did it, however." MacNair added hopefully.

"Yes. Did it. Definitely."

"Quiet," Remus snapped. "I have changed your mission."

"Very good."

"Wonderful, sir."

"You will return home, and find yourselves honest work. We have no more need of your assistance." Remus fought the urge to smile. "MacNair, you are well-suited to shovelling the cages at Scamander's Magical Zoo. Rufus, the circus might take you, if you dress in a tutu and dance for the ringmaster. And Avery," he paused, "to the aquarium."

"But sir?"

"No."

"Yes, Mr. Malfoy, sir."

"Go."

"Yes, Mr. Malfoy, sir."

And with that, the two Death Eaters and their dog began the long trek back to England. Remus smiled and went to find his bag, eager to clear the area before the spell wore off and the real Lucius Malfoy discovered what had happened. He fancied he could hear the song of the Wood Nymphs follow him out of the wood.

***

Remus found healing supplies in his case and quickly wrapped the wound on his wrist. As shallow as it was, it had not yet stopped bleeding; such was the danger with silver knives. Remus took a deep breath, drew the Remembrall from his pocket, and continued on his way.

As he followed Peter's cold trail beyond the aunt's cottage and through large fields, he had already begun to objectify the memories of that night, to catalogue each action as though he was an impartial spectator, to tell himself the story as though it had happened to someone else. Even separated thus from the events of the past hours, however, he gained no insight.

He wondered why the Death Eaters were so eager to find Peter at all. The most obvious reason was to finish the business Sirius had apparently left incomplete, but why bother killing him now. What did he know? Peter had always been a rather unremarkable wizard, quiet and loyal, but not the sort to have mercenaries on his tail--Remus shivered at the thought of the silver dagger, and stopped himself before he could recall the hands that slid it across his skin -- not that sort of mercenary, certainly.

By the following morning he was nearly asleep on his feet and decided he had put enough distance between himself and the Death Eaters to allow a short nap. He spotted an abandoned barn at the edge of a fallow field. It would be a safe place to rest for the day, although the dusty old hay made him sneeze even in his sleep.

***

"That was close."

"Mmm."

"Have you figured it out yet?"

"He's alive."

"You haven't. Think harder." A strong hand reached up and ruffled his hair as a giant sneeze wracked his body.

***

Remus woke to the wet muzzle of a stray Billy goat nudging his ear.

"Gah!" he jumped up, rubbing his face dry.

Startled, the animal fled. Remus tried vainly to remember his dream, but found that it had escaped even faster than the goat. He packed his case and continued.

***

Vienna. Peter had to go to bloody Vienna.

Remus kicked himself -- twice for good measure -- for following the trail here, on this day. He had never intended to return to Vienna, much less to be stranded here when the moon was full. He was usually much more aware of her changing face; he blamed this lapse in concentration on the endearing little puppy and the great bullying mastiff.

From the top of a speeding train from Switzerland, he gazed at the Tauern Mountains on the southern horizon. He had not seen them since he was a young boy, and then only for a few days, but each peak and crag was indelibly traced into his mind, as though some hidden part of him looked out through his eyes and knew it was home. As the turning earth brought the moon ever closer to the eastern horizon, he felt something stir deep in his gut, a primal longing that would not be silenced. The faintest scents and sounds grew richer, more vibrant. The human in him wanted nothing more than to slip into the oblivion of sleep, but the prickling beneath his skin was wide awake. His neck was tight, and his body felt heavy. Remus gripped the runner beneath his hands and refused to let go. He stared fixedly at the skyline, forcing his body to be still. A part of him had run these mountains for years uncounted. That part of him was finally home and yearned to hunt here again.

Remus swallowed and suppressed these instincts. This was not where he wanted to be, he told himself firmly, not for a full moon. Not again.

He disembarked from the train unseen and began to search for shelter. The streets of Vienna pulsed with history, baroque facades reflecting the glory of the Hapsburg Empire, fountains spraying rainbows of colour into the squares, elaborate gardens slumbering until warm days came again. He could almost hear the symphonies of Mozart and Mahler echoing off the ornately carved stones, but the city's beauty barely touched him.

This was a city of memories.

Remus' mother, a Muggleborn witch, had come here often, first with her father, as an Officer's daughter. She'd lived all over the globe and, when she finally came of age, settled in London. Studying abroad in Vienna, she had met Remus' father, a fellow Londoner there on business. They fell in love, married, and the rest, as they say, was history.

When Remus was five, his father had another job in the city, and his parents decided to bring their young son to the place where they had fallen in love.

They had attended a performance at the Spanische Hofreitschule, the Spanish Riding School, on the night of a full moon.

"Why is it called Spanish, if it's in Aus-tri-a?"

"Enough questions, Remus, just watch."

He had watched the grey-white horses dance under crystal chandeliers in the mirrored hall; lofty columns framed the soaring leaps and patterns executed by invisible command of the riders. He watched the intricate marches where no man or animal put a foot out of place, and the graceful steps that harnessed the energy of a gallop in a single, restrained stride. Funny how clearly he still recalled those moments.

He hadn't said a word until, holding his mother's hand, they walked out into the night.

"Were those unicorns?"

"No, dear. Unicorns have horns."

"But they hid them, for the Muggles, right?"

"No. They're just horses."

"But they trained them with magic, right? No normal horse could do that."

"No magic, Remus, just hard work and discipline."

They had taken the hired carriage to an inn high above the city. As his parents walked to the light of the open door, he tried to ask the carriage horses if they knew how to dance. They pawed the ground nervously in response, and huffed out dilated nostrils.

They smelled the Wolf.

Remus remembered his father calling him from across the yard, remembered running towards the light of the doorway. He did not remember the attack, only flying, like the grey-white horses, somewhere above himself, and watching his father drag his mother back into the inn. Don't leave me!

Then blackness.

It was the day his life had ended.

Or begun, depending on how he chose to look at it.

Remus shook his head to clear away the half-forgotten memories. He found the Viennese Register of Werewolves, intending to present his papers and find a safe-house for the night. Then he read the message on the door, large calligraphic letters painted onto the varnished wood itself:

Until Further notice, all Werewolves, Giants, Vampires, Trolls and other creatures classified as Highly Dangerous Beasts or Beings by the International Confederation of Wizards, are hereby banned from the City of Vienna in the interest of the safety of its citizens. Such creatures are asked to leave the city limits immediately. Failure to comply will result in immediate elimination.

Remus turned and quickly walked away. Whirling's papers would not protect him against this Ministry, rumoured to be one of the most ruthless in the world. Few governments in Eastern Europe were particularly friendly to what they considered Dark Creatures. Remus thought ruefully: perhaps if Vienna had enacted the ban when they first noted the 'problem', one small boy would not have been bitten so many years ago.

Then he censured himself. There was no use diving into a river of 'what ifs'; the current might never let him go.

In a desolate part of the city, home to vagrants and vagabonds, he found an abandoned building and magically sealed himself in the basement. In the fading light from a high window, he quickly but quietly fixed heavy silver chains to the foot of wall, cast protective charms on the room, and folded his clothes by his case.

"Arciero," he whispered determinedly. The chains rose like silver snakes and lunged, their manacles closing around his ankles and wrists, the collar snapping shut around his neck, instantly singeing his crawling skin. The chains would contract and expand with the transformation, and they would not release him until he asked.

Shivering, skin twitching with the impending transformation and the icy hot touch of silver, Remus curled himself into the corner of the room. And waited.

Once, years ago, he had spent a summer studying human and lupine anatomy, memorising the stages of transformation, intending to recite the name of every bone and muscle as it changed. He had come fairly close.

He looked down at the slight tremor in his right hand, where the transformation began: 27 vibrating bones -- carpal, metacarpal, phalanges -- connected by metacarpophalangeal joints, 60 muscles attached by tendons--third dorsal interosseous, abductor pollicis longus--

His feet were next: 26 bones -- calcanius, talus, navicular -- 20 muscles held in place by more than a hundred tendons and ligaments, including the famous Achilles that fell with the city of Troy--

It came in a blinding flash. Breath locked in his lungs, muscles extended, joints popped. Remus clung to lucidity as long as he could.

In the first agonising wave, the tiny bones of his hands and feet splintered, shards stretching and expanding.

Muscles torqued and twisted to accommodate.

Veins rerouted the flow of blood.

Long bones cracked. Tibia, fibula, he recited desperately.

Limbs and back seized all at once.

Remus held on as the wolf fought for control. He continued to trace the change.

Internal organs compressed and expanded. Stomach, liver, kidneys...

Intestines writhed.

For a moment that seemed to last an eternity,

his heart stopped.

The world was deadly silent.

And he could feel his ears growing. A tingle of fur sprouted on his limbs and face.

Then his sternum split, his pelvis cracked and reoriented itself along his spine.

The first thundering heartbeat.

Life.

Eyes rolled back into his head, and Remus finally let go.

***

Remus opened his eyes then shut them again. His entire body was one throbbing ache. His mouth was dry and his skin seared. Dazedly, he recognised the acrid smell of silver burning his flesh. He heard moans and realised they rose from his own throat.

"Relashio," he whispered, barely moving his lips. The manacles opened and he rolled away until he no longer felt the silver fire against his skin. He considered opening his eyes, but each lash seemed to weigh more than a clan of giants. Every thought required more effort than he could muster. He was a man outside of time and unaware of consequence. The sky could come crashing onto the streets of Vienna, and he doubted that he would notice.

He remembered flashes of feeling from the night before: raging fury at the chains binding him; the choking ring around his throat; the desperate need to run; the relentless strength of his bonds. He remembered crashing back into himself as muscle twisted, bones splintered and grew again, fur receded, and the human mind slowly extricated itself from that of the wolf, much like a sleeping man woke to unwind himself from the tangled sheets. He remembered wishing he didn't have to, and thanking the fates that he had. With only the final hope that his Protection Spells would hold on for an extra day, even when his consciousness couldn't, Remus drifted away into a silent and dreamless sleep.

Some time later, he listened through a sleep-addled brain to voices surprisingly close by. While prudence required that he hide himself from these potentially threatening newcomers, he knew that he wouldn't. He couldn't work up the energy to care whether or not he was discovered. Besides, they were most likely Muggles; Registry hitwizards would make more noise in attempting to enter by stealth. Remus could only understand the odd word from their conversation, but imagined that it went something like this:

"Oh my. What do you think is wrong with him?"

"Drugs. Probably a bad trip"

"And those?"

"Some kinky sex thing. Do you like?"

"Very funny. What should we do?"

"Nothing. Pretend we weren't here."

They left more quietly than they arrived.

Remus would have laughed at the irony if his body did not protest movement so violently. If only consumption of hallucinogenic substances and a penchant for deviant behaviour were the extent of his condition. Life would be so easy.

Sirius had always accused him of having a twisted sense of humour.

Remus drifted back into sleep, this time curled up on his side, his limbs arranged in a more orderly fashion.

The next time he awoke, Remus was able to move his fingers painlessly and gingerly push himself up onto his elbows. The world spun for a minute but steadied, and Remus managed to stand. He had no idea what day it was, much less what time. Moving over to his case with agonising slowness, he began to assess the damage. Blistering burns ringed his skin where the manacles had been, but the restrictive chains had prevented the worst of the bites and scratches. He sighed -- silver burns would take an age to heal -- then found his wand, various salves and bandages, and set to work.

Walking out of the basement hold, Remus noticed several newspapers caught in the doorway, picked one up, and checked the date; it was the tenth of February. Some lucky bibliophile began work in the Davenshirt library today. Remus swallowed hard and focused on the rumbling in his empty stomach. Ravenous, but ready to leave Vienna, he looked back down the streets of memory and hoped never to return.

***

Remus followed Peter's trail southwest, into the mountains. The area was largely uninhabited and the terrain became too difficult to cycle over, even for a magical bike. Remus soon decided to Apparate from point to point along the beam of light from the Remembrall. Each time he appeared, he took a breath of cold, fresh air; his lungs drank it in greedily after his imprisonment in the abandoned basement. Between the fresh air and the several meals of Weiner Schnitzel that he had consumed before leaving the city--as much to say the words, Weiner Schnitzel, as to satisfy his craving for meat--he was feeling almost himself again.

"Weiner Schnitzel," he announced to a nearby marmot who stood frozen, blinking up at him. The creature's glare stated in no uncertain terms that he thoroughly disapproved of a man who appeared out of nowhere with a pop and started naming Austrian foodstuffs. Remus grinned. As evening fell, he searched around the sheltered overhangs of rock and the roots of stunted trees for a marmot-free place to light a small fire and rest. Settled underneath a cosy conjured quilt, somewhere in the mountains of western Hungary, he fell asleep watching the stars.

***

"You're getting closer."

"Am I?"

"Mmm"

"How do you know?"

"Look up. Remember watching the stars?" A single finger ran up the length of Remus' spine, and he heard the receding sound of laughter.

***

As he continued, ever farther from civilisation, Peter's trail became more and more difficult to follow. His movements were small and erratic, like those of a rodent trying to keep a predator off of his tail. The beam of light darted this way and that, and Remus had to choose his Apparation points carefully. The next destination selected, hand on his wand, he Disapparated and--

Thwack!

Remus' incorporeal self hit something solid and immovable. He hastily and very literally pulled himself together and rematerialised, relatively confident that he had not left any important parts behind. Splinching was unpleasant at the best of times, but travelling alone in the wilderness, under the eye of a hostile government, it could be deadly.

He shivered under the cool winter sun and looked around. There were boulders, scrub trees, and windblown snow drifts as far as the eye could see, no different from the landscape through which he'd travelled all day. Remus raised a hand into the Apparation Barrier. It passed as easily as through air, but he noticed that the air was shimmering, and his skin tingled slightly where it touched.

"Where is he?"

A steady beam of light shone in front of him, through the iridescent air, and abruptly ended. Intrigued, Remus gripped his wand and stepped forward.

The tingle crept over his entire body, akin to immersing himself slowly into a river of thumbtacks. Like swarm of bees poised and ready to sting, it began at his nose, flowed behind his eyes and down his arms, coated his scalp, slipped over his shoulder blades, and prickled the soles of his feet. Remus took another step, and his stomach lurched as the world turned upside-down.

Standing on the sky, as the river of thumbtacks began to pull him into its current, Remus looked ahead. Rather than a frozen mountainside, he saw the orange-red sand and stark horizon of an endless desert. The thin beam of light from the Remembrall crossed the naked landscape and disappeared in the distance.

Holding his breath, Remus stepped forward. Immediately, the tingling stopped and his world righted itself once more. Underfoot was hot grainy sand, and the sun beat down ruthlessly from the cloudless sky. He squinted, giving his eyes a moment to adjust to the glare, and wiped away the sweat already beading on his brow.