Paper Wings

Spy Glass

Remus walked quietly through the halls, skulking in the shadows and, when there were no shadows for skulking, humming casually, pretending to have forgotten the way to his room. He scanned the numbers on the doors, but they seemed to be in no particular order. Twelve was followed by fifty-seven; twenty-thirty-nine was next to fourteen. He strained to catch the faintest sounds, to see each flicker of the candlelight from heavy sconces on the walls, to absorb the disconcerting array of smells emanating from the rooms he passed.

Suddenly, he heard a soft padding behind him.

Remus spun to face the attacker, but no one was there.

"Meow," said a small voice below his knees.

Remus looked down to find Levka purring and winding his brown furry body around Remus' legs. "Merlin, Levka," Remus exhaled, "you frightened me."

"Meow," said the kneazle.

"I don't suppose you could show me to room eleventy-two?"

"Meoow," the kneazle replied, turning promptly, tufted tail whipping behind him, and trotting away. After going a few paces, Levka turned around expectantly, his black-ringed yellow eyes glinting in the dim light. With a shrug, Remus went with him; after all, the kneazle seemed far more sensible than the numbers on the door.

Presently, they came to a crooked door with the number eleventy-two marked on the lintel. Levka, his task complete, nodded at Remus and disappeared into the shadows. Yellow light shone through several cracks in the door, illuminating fractured lines in the dark hallway. Remus held his breath; the corridor was quiet enough that he could hear his own heart pounding. From inside the room came the soft sound of turning pages and the clink, perhaps of a glass on a bedside table, followed by a large grunt.

Pressed into a shadowed corner, Remus took a moment to catch his breath and consider his options. Having no idea who or what lay beyond that door, bursting in would be ill-advised. Nochi had warned him that many of the wizards staying here were... short on goodwill. What he needed was a little reconnaissance. Remus stepped silently past the door. Beside it, room five-nineteen seemed deserted and silent. Remus touched the knob, and the door creaked open.

He slipped inside the room and walked two or three steps--

"Lumos!" hissed a voice behind him. Remus spun and--

"Stupefy!" he yelled

The red light glanced harmlessly off a Shield Charm.

"Never quite quick enough with your stun, Lupin" spoke a slow, smooth voice.

"What?" Remus asked, adrenaline rapidly burning away in a mounting fury. Shutting the door firmly behind him, was the very last person Remus had expected to see. "Snape?" he asked, confused. "What are you doing here?"

"I am asking the questions." Snape scowled, his overlarge nose casting shadows in the wandlight. "You are the intruder, caught in the act."

Something in the other man's unsurprised eyes made Remus frown. "You left that note for me. You knew I would come here. Why?"

"Ah, we did bring our wits tonight." Snape flicked his wand casually and lit the candles around the room. Judging from the even lines of empty vials and flasks of unsavoury, squelching ingredients, hanging robes, and open suitcases, he'd been here long enough to have nested. Another Yeti clock ticked monotonously in the corner. Still sneering at the success of his own manipulations, Snape's lips were curved in the slightest crescent. His complexion was sallow, features dwarfed by the hooked nose. Neck to toe, he was dressed in black robes, Remus almost snorted; never had much fashion sense, that one.

"Have you been watching me? Nochi--"

"--was quite useful for placing and passing information." Snape spoke over Remus' question, waving his hand dismissively, "once I convinced her to help." He gestured to a plain wooden chair by the desk for Remus, and sat in a matching one by the cold hearth, leaning against the straight back, completely at ease.

Remus remained standing. "You paid her off? But she's a house elf."

"Your powers of observation astound as always. Wonderfully obsequious creatures, house-elves, but so very easy to persuade if one knows what to offer." He laughed derisively. "In that respect, they aren't so different from men, even Gryffindors." He paused, raising an eyebrow significantly. "The elf wants nothing more than a recommendation with a nice family in London."

"I didn't think you knew any of those." Remus said mildly.

Snape looked him up and down, his expression unreadable. Then he indicated the chair again. "I have offered you a seat, so that we may discuss things in a civilized manner. Please try to act as though you were not raised by wolves."

Remus took a deep, calming breath and remained standing. "So you bribed a house elf to leave your little note. Why?"

"You might apply that keen intellect to the task, Lupin. Surely even you have noticed what manner of clientele frequent the Nesting Dragon? I can't be seen speaking to you here. And as for this..." Snape drew the worn scrap of parchment from inside his robes.

"Accio!" Remus shot without thinking, gripping the back of the chair with one hand and catching the parchment in the other. Heat rose to his face at the thought of anyone else reading Sirius'--

"Whose?" Severus demanded, standing quickly and staring Remus straight in the eye.

Damn Legillimency. Remus quickly imagined a cloudless sky, wiping dangerous words and volatile images from his mind. He turned away.

Snape spoke slowly, articulating every word as he paced deliberately across the room. "The elf implied it would get your attention, though I don't know what fool's errand you think you're--"

"My fool's errand is none of your concern." Remus spoke coolly, hoping that his tone would end the conversation. He smiled thinly and turned to leave. "If you don't mind, as much as I've enjoyed this heart-warming little reunion, I have a mug of hot tea waiting."

"Wait," Snape ordered, standing perfectly still and, if Remus was not mistaken, suddenly tense.

Remus sighed. "What do you want, Severus? Why are you here?"

"I am here, Lupin, because I am still needed."

Remus bit back his reply and waited. For too many years he had treated Snape with guarded respect. Sirius, he shivered, had treated Snape with thinly veiled hatred, had always been ready with the snide rejoinder, and had never really been convinced that Snape was 'on our side'. It was an irony for which Remus couldn't smile.

Snape sneered. "I certainly did not expect you to happen along and threaten the secrecy of my task, but I suppose you have nothing better to do with your time than frequent disreputable inns and commiserate with the help. Don't tell me you are still unemployed, Lupin? I'm surprised Dumbledore did not find a place for you as he did for me. In September, I will return to Hogwarts. He has offered me a position there."

"In the kitchens?" Remus asked placidly. Sirius would have been proud of the retort, and that fact alone made Remus immediately regret his words. He resisted the urge to comment that someone was finally putting Snape's cooking skills to work.

"As Potions Master," Severus smiled dangerously. "I wonder, if you asked him politely, would he allow you to return as well, perhaps to care for the beasts? An honest day's work for a werewolf. Though I suppose some things are impossible, even for the Headmaster."

Remus exhaled, remembering the majestic eagle owl folding its wings in his tiny cottage. The Davenshirt job would have begun almost one month ago. Though it had been his for a few glorious days, some other lucky bibliophile now held the title of Private Archivist for the Davenshirt Library. He reached into his pocket to feel the reassuring crinkle of parchment under his fingers.

"Less impossible than it sounds." Remus murmured, the ghost of a smile flitting over his lips.

There was a moment's silence

Severus cleared his throat. "Be that as it may, as you clearly have nothing valuable to do with your time here, certain skills of yours may be useful to my work."

Slightly surprised, Remus accepted the veiled compliment with a nod.

Severus continued. "Since the Longbottom incident, I have been monitoring members of certain factions who may still be active, particularly Igor Karkaroff. He has been most difficult to locate since his release from Azkaban. I have followed him here and believe he is attempting to contact his former associates in London, but I have not been successful in divining his purpose. Karkaroff is capable of terrible things, should he be called into service. He was familiar with those who attacked the Longbottoms, and I mean to discover whether he has reason to harm the boy. I am here to determine whether the child," Snape growled the word in a way that made Remus pity the future potions students at Hogwarts, "is in any danger. Karkaroff does not entirely trust me, and so it would be prudent to have a second pair of eyes watching him."

Snape quickly toured Remus through the supplies he had on hand. A Vanishing Drought whose formulation he had recently perfected, a Silencing Serum to coat the bottom of his clunking boots, a closet full of plain black robes with large hoods, a Dictastone to record conversations, and a Distraction Drought he'd designed for a quick escape. When he began detailing the finer points of the improvements he'd made to the Ministry Standard Perplexion Potion, Remus cut him off. "I'll consider it," he said. "But if you'll excuse me for now, my tea is getting cold."

He left the room without a backwards glance.

As he wandered the convoluted passages and inside-out halls, Remus thought of the Longbottom boy, who was in many ways so similar to James' and Lily's son Harry, and he thought about Snape's request for help. He remembered Alice Longbottom, a short woman with blonde curling hair whom he'd never taken the time to know very well; he remembered watching from the shadows as she pushed a carriage alongside Lily Potter. A heavy weight settled on his chest, and he leaned for a moment against a crooked wall. The two new mothers had smiled happily, discussing the details of napkin changing and bottle warming, eyes shining in the late summer sun, safe in the knowledge that the unseen guard would protect them from any harm.

Finally reaching his room, Remus settled onto the long bed, arms wrapped around his body, and decided to stay as long as he was needed at The Nesting Dragon, eyes open for Igor Karkaroff.

***

Remus spent the following morning comparing Alim's ancient, complex map of Wrinkles to a colourful, modern map of the world he'd acquired from a helpful but unrepentant Nochi. He made notes of all the things he knew about Peter's travels so far. The man seemed drawn to areas of high Death Eater activity, and his preferred means of travel, as rat legs were particularly short, were trains and Wrinkles -- until, of course, he had Apparated from the Nesting Dragon.

Remus looked again at the diagram he'd made of Peter's journey and at the map of the world's Wrinkles. A voice jumped to life in his memory: "Cairo... Madagascar... Manaus... The Ministry's been tracking some troubles globally"

Manaus, a city in the rainforests of central Brazil, was quite near the outlet of one of the Ring of Fire Wrinkles, one whose entrance was within Apparating distance, in nearby Alaska. Something squirmed uneasily in the pit of Remus' stomach. Perhaps he was too certain that Peter would be found wherever the Death Eaters had fled.

Perhaps the tightness in his chest had nothing to do with Peter at all. He'd been feeling vaguely ill since the night before, since meeting Snape and hearing mention of the Longbottoms; remnants of a past life that had found him again, here at the end of the world. He recalled the celebrations, the shooting stars, and how quickly the lives of family and acquaintances settled into a pattern eleven years interrupted. The New Year saw the popping of so many corked bottles of fizzy wine, the raising of crystalline flutes and making of toasts: Let this year just be better than the last. Life had returned to normal.

Or so it seemed. Perhaps those who could not forget had simply fled. Perhaps the orphaned children lay awake at night, waiting for the lullabies they would never hear again. Perhaps the past would dog his steps until he finally let it go....

He touched the Alaskan end of the nearby Wrinkle; its other half began to shimmer deep in the Amazon. It was a long shot, but it was all he had to go on. Far from satisfied, Remus knew what he would do once the Longbottom boy's safety was assured.

***

Later that evening, Remus sat in a dark corner of the pub, slowly sipping Wormwood Ale from a heavy, smudged glass. They did not serve anything so pleasant as Butterbeer at The Nesting Dragon. Duscha was chatting with a wizard in lurid green robes, and Levka was purring at Remus' feet. A hag was muttering under her breath nearby, something about snake hearts and dizzy spiders. A fight erupted between two fur-cloaked Russian wizards with thick moustaches and ebony wands.

The hood of Remus' travelling cloak was pulled forward, hiding his face. His eyes were trained on two men in conversation across the room. Snape was speaking to a dark, goateed chap Remus recognised as Igor Karkaroff, the Death Eater who'd been released from Azkaban for giving the names of his associates to the Ministry. He had since disappeared; Voldemort's remaining followers were not pleased with his actions. A third man joined the conversation, summoned by Karkaroff from a deep alcove behind them. Remus did not recognise him, though his impressive height and build, and the air of stillness about him, reminded Remus uncannily of a centaur.

After a few minutes, Karkaroff gave a little bow and exited the conversation. Snape attempted to follow but was detained by the centaur-like man. Quickly, with a furtive glance back at Snape, Karkaroff sped up the stairs; there was no way for Snape to extricate himself from the conversation without arousing too much suspicion.

Remus smiled at the machinations of those who did not trust anyone.

Suddenly Snape looked over at him. As though the man had snapped the order directly into Remus' ear, his command was clear. "Go, you idiot!"

Remus nodded ever so slightly, left his tankard on the table and sidled upstairs. Once out of sight of the pub, he quickened his pace and hurried to Snape's room. Though his hands were steady and mind clear, his heart was pounding with excitement. He loved this, and he always had. Sneaking around with his friends at school, or later with the Order of the Phoenix, he loved the thrill of the chase, the subtleties of the plan, the unspoken threat of capture, and Remus knew that he was good at what he did.

At Snape's door, he stopped. "Alohomora."

Nothing happened. The door remained locked.

"Alohamora!" he said again.

Remus tapped the doorknob with his wand, muttered a few reversals to the less common Locking Spells, and was rewarded by nothing more than a shudder of the wooden frame.

Snape must have protected the room and forgotten to tell him the password. "Oh, for love of the Giant Squid!" Remus exclaimed in frustration.

The door clicked open. Love of the Giant Squid?

Inside, he found Snape's small potions case and snapped it open. Scanning the array of identical stoppers, he ruefully remembered the time Sirius had given him an unmarked vial 'believed' to contain Pepperup Potion. Remus had grown fish gills in the sides of his neck, but his flu was unimproved. Sirius had smiled sheepishly and consoled him with the fact that he would be prepared should Gryffindor tower ever flood. James suggested he ask a mermaid to the next Hogsmead weekend.

Luckily, Snape's vials were all meticulously labelled. Remus took a sip of the one marked Vanishing Draught. His skin tingled for a moment, and when he looked down at his hands, they weren't there. Relieved, he snatched the small Dictastone figurine of an African Grey Parrot from the desk and bounded back into the hallway, easily avoiding furniture and creaking boards. He had no need of Snape's Silencing Serum after years of practice sneaking around under James's Invisibility Cloak, and he certainly had no use for Snape's sweeping black cloaks. Remus moved with complete confidence. Walking softly through the corridor, Remus listened outside each door for Karkaroff's voice. Snape, being Snape, would have been certain to select a room close to his target.

He heard the whoosh of rising flames from behind a nearby door. Lucky thirteen. A clipped voice directed the flames to Malfoy Manor. Remus paused and touched the door with his wand. A dark purple sheen informed him that the room was magically sealed. Thinking quickly, Remus aimed his wand at a sconce on the wall and sent it clattering to the floor.

A moment later, Karkaroff threw open the door and peered suspiciously into the corridor. Remus slipped by the man and into the room, silently pressing himself into a corner. He touched the parrot's beak and felt heat rise in his hand as it was activated. Karkaroff came back inside and carefully bolted the door behind him, muttering several protective charms and casting a final Sealing Curse. Remus swallowed and forced himself not to worry about escape just yet.

Karkaroff nervously threw some more Floo powder onto the fire.

"Malfoy Manor, Lucius' study," he said again.

There was a swirl of emerald flames, and a tall, stately figure stepped into the fireplace. He did not deign to step out into the room. "You!" he spat, green flames licking the edges of his robes and giving his face a sinister sheen.

"Malfoy," Karkaroff began.

"I told you to never contact me again."

"Wait," Karkaroff sounded almost desperate. "Lucius, you owe me a debt."

"Five minutes," Malfoy snapped, looking at his pocket watch. "That's all you have. I have important business to attend to, and I won't waste my time on traitors."

"Lucius, there must be something you can do. Find me work. I'm tired of running. I hate this arctic waste."

"There are other places to hide," Malfoy sneered.

"For those willing to live outnumbered by insects." Karkaroff drew himself up, until he was eye to eye with the imperious figure in the flames. His tone grew indignant. "This is what we are reduced to? Cowering in musty, third rate rooms halfway around the world? It is absurd."

"We? There are always concessions to make, Karkaroff. For those who've made the wrong decisions, the concessions will always be greater."

"I don't see you making them, sir," Kararoff mumbled, then added more clearly, "I can still be of use to you. I can be a very valuable person."

"Oh?" Malfoy sounded almost amused. "In what way are you valuable?"

"I... I can do things."

Malfoy raised an eyebrow. Karkaroff seemed ashamed by his own desperation and adopted a more confident air.

"I can spy for you. Send me to Hogwarts."

"Everyone there knows what you've done, fool. Your file at the Ministry is inches thick. Besides, I already have a man going to Hogwarts - one whom I can trust."

Remus' breath caught in his throat. As Potions Master, said a spiteful voice in his head. So Severus intended to continue playing both sides of the Galleon? Remus almost pitied the man.

"You can trust me," Karkaroff replied sulkily.

Lucius laughed. "You betrayed your comrades."

"I did what I had to. You told them you were under the Imperious. We all did what we had to, to avoid... that place."

"Not all."

"Fine, Black didn't, but they say he's mad."

Remus' heart stopped. He forgot to breathe.

Lucius looked as though he would like to contradict this statement, then thought better and replied instead, "Nor did the Lestrange brothers, Dolohov, or Mulciber, who you attempted to incriminate."

"Hmph." Karkaroff paused while Lucius glared daggers at him. "I am no traitor. I gave them names they already had. You must understand." Lucius raised his eyebrows at the suggestion that he 'must' do anything. Karkaroff went on, "By staying free I can -- I can help the cause. There was only one real traitor, only one who led our Lord to his doom."

"Ah, what I would have done to him, if I'd reached him first. What I would do to him if he were still alive..." Lucius snarled, leaving the sentence unfinished and drawing an odd look from Karkaroff.

Remus' lungs screamed for air. Sirius. They were talking about Sirius, who led Voldemort to his downfall in Godric's Hollow. But Sirius was not dead -- as good as, perhaps, but not -- The thought made Remus uneasy.

"Even if I felt the slightest desire to assist you, and I most certainly do not, there is nothing I can do. England is no longer your country."

"Where can I go?" The confident façade had fallen, and Karkaroff sounded defeated.

"Go to Durmstrang, if you enjoy children so much. The current administration is sympathetic to our cause. They might even view your Ministry file as an asset." Lucius laughed again. It was cold and mirthless. "Your five minutes are up, Igor. Never contact me again."

With that, Lucius Malfoy disappeared from the flames. Karkaroff shouted some very creative obscenities into the fireplace and sat down at his desk, head in his hands.

Remus began to fidget and considered his very limited options for escaping the room. He touched the parrot's beak once more, and it cooled in his hand. He wanted to pace, but any sound might give him away. Instead he stood perfectly still and waited for an opportunity to present itself.

Hours later, Karkaroff finally lay down to sleep. The moon was already low in the sky, and Remus' muscles were stiff from standing still. Remus opened the window slowly, freezing when Karkaroff shifted in his sleep and muttered something unintelligible. Then Remus dove into the cold night air.

Even though a quick Levitation Charm partially broke his fall, Remus lay on the stony ground several stories below for minutes, sore and dazed, watching his puffs of breath dissipate in the moonlight. Every contour of the yard was bathed in silvery glow, encouraging the familiar prickle of a body that did not quite fit under his skin. The full moon was only two nights away.

Unwanted thoughts circled about his head like the bats in the public rooms.

If he were still alive.

Those who can't forget can flee.

Suddenly he had an idea. Remus fingered the fine metal chain around his neck. It would more than suit; it would be perfect. He shivered in anticipation -- or perhaps it was only the cold -- and sat up. He pointed his wand up at Karkaroff's window and shut it with a quick flick. The man would never know his privacy had been invaded. The Longbottom boy was in no danger. Only Remus' back was a little worse for the wear. He walked back inside through the front door, pointedly ignoring a knowing look from the kneazle, and returned to his room.

He opened the door and started. Snape was waiting for him.

"Gods, man!" Remus said. "Must you do that?" He sunk onto the bed, then added. "I thought you couldn't be seen coming in here?"

"Lupin?" Snape asked, looking everywhere but at the man he addressed. "Where are you?"

"Here. Oh, the potion, I forgot."

"Yes, I noticed you helped yourself liberally to my supplies. I've brought the Reversal Solution."

"And I thought you were here to thank me for doing your work." Remus drank the potion gratefully, and opacity returned to his features. "Here's your Dictastone." He tossed the small figurine of the parrot over to Snape.

Snape fumbled to catch it and shot Remus a look that would shrivel kittens. Remus shrugged, conjured himself a cup of tea, and lay back on the pillows. Magically brewed tea will never be as good as the real thing, he thought, but tonight it would do. Snape, meanwhile, was talking to the bird. It squawked once or twice, then replayed the conversation from Karkaroff's room exactly as Remus had heard it. Remus looked enquiringly at Snape when they heard Lucius' reference to his 'man at Hogwarts'. Severus met his eyes but remained inscrutable .

Snape nodded when it was finished. "That will do," he said tersely.

Remus asked quietly, "Is it true, what Lucius said? Is he really..."

Snape looked at him steadily. "No," he said simply. "Black is alive."

Remus felt a knot loosen in his gut and unintentionally grinned. "I'll be on my way in the morning, then. Good luck with the children."

Snape chose to answer his glib remark in all seriousness. "I realise you will not listen to reason, however foolish your errand, but I suggest that you give up your ridiculous quest and go live out your days in the dust of a Yorkshire bookshop. That was a poor excuse for a love letter." He inclined his head towards the pocket in which Remus kept his parchment, then turned and left.

Remus frowned. However misguided, he supposed it was the closest thing to friendly advice that Snape had ever given him.

Contemplating the now-familiar chipped paint of the ceiling, he placed a hand on the smooth steel tag, remembering the day he'd first felt its weight on his chest. Sirius hadn't said a word as he pressed the plain brown box silently into Remus' hand on their last day at Hogwarts; boys didn't give one another gifts of jewellery on sentimental occasions. Remus had opened the box to find the tag resting on blue velvet, just a plain shiny disc on a thick steel chain. He'd turned it over and read the inscription.

Always against your Heart. -- S.

And he'd always worn it there, ever since that day. It was just the right size for wolf or man, and enchanted to be strong enough that he could not tear it apart, even under the full moon. It was the only thing he'd never taken off.

"Darling, you still wear that?" his mother had asked, some time after Hallowe'en. He had hastily tucked it into his shirt and enquired about her work. Of course he still wore it; he always would. As time passed, the words had taken on a more sinister meaning, thanks to Sirius' innate disregard for the subtleties of language and punctuation. Nonetheless, they had become a part of him.

Not dead then. What on earth had Lucius meant?

Thinking momentarily of the glowing gomuls in the distance, he reviewed his plan once more. The idea was planted, and the tag would be perfect to use for it. He drifted off to sleep.

***

"Why did you help him?"

"Because"

"Help me!"

"I am."

"Don't forget. I won't survive if you forget." Remus felt the sinewy hand gripping his shoulder as he turned away.

***

From a goblin breakfasting in the parlour, Remus purchased a small quantity of Floo Powder. He patted Levka once on the head in farewell, then stepped into the emerald flames and said clearly, "Alaskan Association for the Preservation of Magical Species." As the flames swirled about him, he closed one hand around his case and the other on the tag hanging just below his collar bone.

The world stopped spinning. Remus opened his eyes and stepped out of a large utilitarian fireplace in a small office.

"May I help you?" asked the witch behind the desk. She had a harsh American accent and wore gaudy earrings just visible under ridiculously large hair.

Remus dusted the ash from his robes. "I do hope so," he began, lifting a brochure from her desk and quickly scanning it. "I would like to travel in the... Gates of the Arctic National Park for the next few days."

"Yup," she said pleasantly, "We can arrange that right here. Papers or Passport?"

Remus carefully unfolded the topmost of the papers Whirling had given him almost two months before and handed it to her.

She looked over it quickly, brow furrowing as she read. "Hmm," she cleared her throat once or twice, and said, with a small quiver to her voice, "You'd better speak to Mrs. Tree. She's... um, she handles this sort of thing" She set Remus' paper on the desk between them, and pointed to the door behind her.

Remus smiled pleasantly, retrieved the papers, walked over to the door, and knocked. A brass plaque read 'Mrs. Tree, ACC, Director AAPMS'.

"Come in," called a deep female voice from the other side.

Remus entered. A large, older witch with dark skin and braided black hair sat behind the mahogany desk. Pictures of glaciers, native communities, Alaskan wildlife, and the Aurora Borealis lined the walls behind her. "What can I help you with?" she asked brusquely, indicating for him to sit down. She removed the pointed, white fur-lined wizard's hat from her head, and set it on the desk between them.

"I was wondering whether I might travel in the Gates if the Arctic for a night or two," Remus began slowly.

She smiled. "Sure. Papers please?" Accepting his documents, she continued, "I don't see why Myra couldn't have helped you with this. She gives really good directions, especially to attractive, young... oh." Her brow furrowed as she read the paper, and her eyes flicked to a calendar on the wall. "I see," she said slowly. "This is very unusual, Mr. Lupin. Unprecedented in the years I've been here, I'm sure."

"I was under the impression--"

"Locals, yes, folks we trust. Not strangers." Her voice had dropped an octave, and her lips were pursed.

"I have Testementary Letters from England," Remus said hopefully, removing the rest of Whirling's documents.

Mrs. Tree read through them quickly, face inscrutable. "Well," she finally said, "this is unusual, very unusual. I should refuse you, Mr. Lupin, but Mr. Whirling seems to have the highest regard for your integrity. I've met him at several conferences on Management and Control of Dark Creatures, you know, and he seems to be a responsible fellow. He says you can be trusted to use the, um, restraints... mentioned here." She lifted her eyebrows sceptically. "Raise your sleeves, please," she said tersely. It was not a request.

Remus reluctantly did as he was told, revealing the month-old burns over which tender pink skin was just beginning to grow.

Mrs. Tree regarded him shrewdly. "Very well," she finally said, "But I will notify the Wanderers of your presence there. Should anything happen, they are under orders to shoot first and ask questions later. Are we clear?"

Remus nodded.

"When and how do you plan to leave Alaska?"

"As soon as possible. Portkey. I was planning to visit the Office of Intercontinental Portkey Issuance this afternoon."

"Okay," she said brightly. "I think I can help you with that. Wouldn't want to waste any time."

The following afternoon, he returned to the office. Myra did not meet his eyes as she pulled an old sock with a small American flag at the cuff from her top drawer. "Mrs. Tree says it's all set to take you where you want to go and scheduled for transport any time tomorrow. Well. Nice to meet you," she added stiffly. "You'd better get going. The sun sets early nowadays, you know." Myra dropped the Portkey into his hands, careful not to touch him, and quickly ushered him to the door without another word.

In the glare and shadows of the afternoon sun, Remus looked again at the map from the Preservation Office. Closing his eyes and ignoring the itch under his skin, he Apparated to the most remote point in the Gates of the Arctic National Park.

***

The low sun cast shadows of orange and grey over the landscape, tiger stripes and snow. Remus looked around to get his bearings. He mustn't forget this place. When the moon set, he must be able to return here. Absently, he twirled the tag on its chain around his neck. Always against your Heart. It would bring him back.

He stashed his meagre belongings in a hollow formed by an icy overhang, removed his robes and folded them neatly. He looked down at the silver restraints in a heap at the bottom of his case and imagined Chester Whirling's face staring at him in stern disapproval, then quickly swallowed any guilt. He was safe here - or rather, every living thing within a traversable distance was safe from him. Whirling would never learn of tonight's adventures.

They are under orders to shoot first and ask questions later.

Remus shivered. He could feel the pull of the moon somewhere below the eastern horizon. Already he fancied he could hear leaves rustling in a nest the next valley over. Myriad scents tantalised and confused a nose that could not decipher their messages. Remus closed his eyes and pressed his hands against his ears. He tried to ignore the crawling of a host of snakes under his skin.

Focus. There were so many smells, travelling on eddies of air, blowing tens of miles to reach him.

Human. Human mind strained to interpret the smells wafting into its most primitive places. Something much deeper, older, and base rose to help.

Nothing, it whispered. Nothing here.

Remus opened his eyes, squinting in the sunset glow that lined the clouds with electric orange light. He held the charm around his neck and tapped it once with his wand. "Portus," he whispered.

Carefully placing his wand on top of the pile, naked in the last light of day, he looked out again at the barren landscape. Though it was early by the clock, the sun had sunk well below the western peaks, and its light on the clouds dimmed by the second. It was going to be a long winter's night. Remus shivered again, this time with anticipation. Half-feral eyes scanned the horizon. Remus began to give in, mind and body to the change, wondering if this is how it felt for the others, the 'rogues,' every time -- how it felt to not fight, to simply forget.

Remus drifted away as his lips smiled, sharp canines glowing in the last of the orange light. His back arched, and he fell to his knees, slipping into oblivion with the first familiar shatter of bones and tendons, darkly welcoming the change. The first pounding heartbeat sent pulsing sensation of life through his frame.

Moments later, a lone wolf trotted over the frozen ground, sable coat snug against the cold.

The wolf knew he was free.

He'd been watching.