There'll Be Bluebirds

Teddy carefully set the book down on his bag, making an effort to keep the stained leather binding from touching the grass. If he returned the book with so much as a smudge on the cover, Madam Pence was certain to take it out of his hide. He settled with his back against a tree and closed his eyes, breathing deeply.

The instructions for Occlumency weren't quite what he needed, but Teddy thought the initial steps might be something he could use. He was meant to clear his mind, but rather than attempt to block someone from trying to gain access to his mind, he wanted to see if he could push past what he knew as his earliest memories, and go further.

He hadn't been very successful at it. So far. But he was determined to do it.

Sometimes, he wondered if he would manage to merely create a memory out of whole cloth, because he wanted it so badly.

The book had warned about the dangers of manipulating memories, even to the point of convincing someone that events had occurred, even if in reality, it never had. Memories, even those removed to be viewed in a Pensieve, could be tampered with, and even skillfully twisted in ways that wouldn't be noticeable, except to one with a great deal of expertise.

He had vague memories of staring at a photograph of his father for so long, that his appearance gradually changed, until his round childish face bore the marks and scars of his father's. Sometimes, guilt burned in Teddy's stomach that he didn't feel the same yearning for his mother, but he justified it by telling himself he lived with his mother's mother, and he grew up in the same house she had. The house was full of memories of his mother. At times, all he had to do was look at his grandmother in certain lights, and he could see his mother in her face. He knew he ought to have been grateful for what he did have in Andromeda, Harry, and Ginny, and somehow the feeling that he wanted more felt slightly wrong.

He wanted his father.

*****

Remus felt a sharp nudge in his ribs. 'Get up,' someone said rudely. He blinked in the bright light from someone's wand, utterly confused. 'Get up,' the harsh voice repeated. 'Before I drag your scrawny arse out myself.' The person turned abruptly and stomped from the room. Remus ran a hand through the thick hair flopping into his eyes and groggily sat up. He reached for the clothes neatly folded on the floor next to the rickety camp bed and pulled the jumper over the ragged t-shirt he wore, then slipped the trousers over his legs.

'What's going on?' Matthew whispered from the doorway, tugging his trainers on his feet.

Remus glanced up from tying the laces of his shoes. 'Don't know,' he grunted shortly. Their heads turned toward an impatient growl from the top of the stairs. 'Whatever it is, we'd better go...' He stood and grabbed his cloak from the foot of the camp bed. 'Come on...' He walked through the door, placing a hand lightly between Matthew's shoulder blades and propelled him down the narrow corridor. 'The one that woke me is one of Greyback's lieutenants. It won't do to keep him waiting,' he cautioned. They quickly darted down the steep staircase and joined the handful of other bewildered werewolves standing in a clump at the base of the stairs.

'Out!' barked the werewolf who seemed to be in charge. Remus felt a hand close around his arm and looked down. Matthew clutched at him, vibrating with fear and unease. Remus' other hand rose and gently landed on Matthew's, squeezing it briefly, before they were jostled into an isolated clearing containing a rusted wing from some ancient car. 'Touch it,' the werewolf ordered.

'Why?' one of the group said, trying to repress the quaver in his voice.

'Just do it!'

'That's an illegal Portkey,' mumbled an older man behind Remus.

Another man chuckled ironically. 'You think they care?' He reached down and put a finger on the edge of the wing. The others soon followed with Remus thoughtfully examining the werewolf in charge of the ordeal as he slowly complied.

He felt the familiar, sickening jerk behind his navel as the Portkey turned blue and he was lifted off the ground, bumping into the people around him. They landed in an unfamiliar wood and Remus caught one of the others to prevent him from falling to the wet ground and disgracing himself in front of the assembled werewolves in Greyback's camp. The musky stench emanating from them in waves was overpowering. Remus boldly searched for Greyback, but he was not there.

'Take your kit off,' one of them ordered.

'Whatever for?'

One of the werewolves strode to the unfortunate person who'd dared to ask. He wound his dirty fingers into the person's hair and twisted savagely. 'No questions, jus' do wha' ye're tol'.' He released the whimpering man and whirled around to face the others. 'Per'aps the rest o' ye need a bit o' persuasion-like...' he growled silkily. Remus felt his gut clench as a wand appeared and pointed at a random person. He almost felt, rather than heard the hissed, 'Imperio.'

As if on cue, the others of Greyback's group removed their wands and began to point them at the assembled neutral werewolves.

Remus felt the fingers of the curse tickle the edge of his mind. It ordered him to remove his clothing, but Remus had never been one to do things strictly because someone else said he should. He and a few others were able to resist the Imperius curse, though not without a struggle, while the others doffed their clothes in various stages of jerkiness that belied how hard they fought it.

'I see we've got a few stubborn ones.' Remus' head lifted and he came face-to-face with the ghastly visage of one Fenrir Greyback. 'Think you can resist it, eh?' His hand floated up and he trailed one filthy fingertip down Remus' cheek. Remus suppressed a shudder of distaste. He sincerely hoped what Greyback had in store for them didn't involve getting buggered. There were a lot of things he could handle, but he didn't think rape would be one of them. He knew he would be reserved for Greyback, as a special treat. Greyback's hand closed around Remus' throat and he squeezed.

Remus began to choke, face slowly turning red, coughing and gagging, while Greyback's hand slowly tightened - grubby, dirt-encrusted nails digging into his flesh. Greyback thrust his face close to Remus. 'Take them off,' he commanded, spittle flying into Remus' face.

Arms flailing, Remus managed to toe off his shoes and push his pants and trousers down. Satisfied, Greyback released him, throwing him to the ground. Remus lay on the cold, wet ground, coughing and retching, utterly humiliated. He wondered, as he slowly sat up, and pulled the jumper over his head, if it could possibly get any worse.

It could.

Thin, whip-like lightening bolts flew from wands to lash at their bare skins. Crying out in pain was not an option. Not after they saw what happened to the first one that did. The werewolf that had been tormenting him smiled with a feral grimace, and instead of releasing the stinging lash, held it, wrapped around the man's midsection until the clearing was filled with the scent of singed hair and flesh. Remus, no stranger to pain, set his teeth into his lower lip, but was unable to prevent grunts of discomfort from rising to the surface. He felt as if every inch of his skin had been flayed when they finally stopped. He heard a muffled, 'Oh, thank God...' from somewhere on his left.

That can't be all they're going to do, Remus thought. He wasn't expecting what they were going to do next, but later in hindsight, he knew perhaps he should have. At any rate, he wasn't surprised by what came next.

'CRUCIO!' one of them roared, followed by a chorus of them.

Remus gave up trying not to howl with pain.

*****

Dawn broke with a chorus of birdsong that seemed out of place with the events of the previous night. Greyback's group disappeared with an admonishment for them not to leave or the consequences would be severe. They lay in limp, exhausted heaps, or slumped against trees, pale and shaken from last night's ordeals. Remus leaned against a tree next to one of the older members of the neutral group. 'Held yourself together well in the face of that nastiness,' he commented hoarsely to Remus.

'I'll take that as a compliment,' Remus replied tiredly. He glanced up through heavy-lidded eyes at the man. What was his name? Remus hadn't been very sociable with the others, merely trying to integrate himself into the structure of the neutral group, without arousing suspicions. Ah... The name rose from the mists of his memory. Archie... Archie Campbell... Something shiny glinted in the rising sun. Archie wore a plain, wide band on his ring finger. 'You're married,' Remus blurted.

Archie nodded. 'Yeah. Or I was.' He lightly caressed the ring. 'Once I was released from St. Mungo's, I left...' He dug a much-creased photograph from his pocket, the edges beginning to fray. 'My wife, Melinda, and our son, Finn.' He held the photograph out to Remus. 'I never even told her goodbye. I waited until she and Finn were out of the house, snuck in, grabbed some clothes, and left her a note...' He looked down at the photograph. 'They're better off without me,' he said sadly.

'When did you...?'

'Full moon in July.'

'Which one? There were two,' Remus reminded him.

'July first,' Archie sighed. He shyly glanced at Remus through his eyelashes. 'Might I presume to ask you something?'

'You can ask,' Remus grunted. 'I don't have to answer.'

'Fair enough.' Archie shifted slightly grimacing at the residual aches in his muscles. 'Does it get easier? Transforming?'

Remus shrugged. 'A bit. If you're with others... I had friends who were Animagi when I was younger who stayed with me during the full moon. I really haven't been in the company of others of my - I mean, our - kind. Never transformed with other werewolves.'

Archie let his head fall back against the rough bark and the merest hint of a laugh rose on his exhalation. 'Tonight, then.'

'I suppose.'

Archie sighed. 'What do you suppose they've got in store for us tonight?' he murmured, staring at the photograph cradled in his palm.

'No idea...' Remus rolled his head on his neck, which emitted several loud pops. He glanced at Archie. 'Best put that away,' he admonished. 'You don't want to let them see it, yeah? Whatever life you had before doesn't exist anymore.' He felt a twinge of guilt, thinking of the moleskin pouch pinned inside the pocket of his trousers that contained the flyleaf of Paradise Lost with Dora's inscription and signature that he had refused to leave behind. Remus closed his eyes, as if he could block his own transgressions against his admonishments.

*****

Remus stood with his cloak wrapped tightly around his body, eyeing Greyback, pacing the clearing, waiting impatiently for the sun to set. As the sky blazed with shades of orange and purple, Greyback stilled and glared over the huddled group. 'One of us will Side-Along you,' he said in his gravelly tones, insinuating they were mere children. 'You stay with us the entire night, we'll allow you in my group, no questions asked. Run, and the effort you'll have to exert to earn my trust will be... Considerable.'

There was a quickly smothered cry of dismay behind Remus. He knew it came from Matthew, who'd had a difficult time last night, and been singled out and used badly, with lines permanently etched between his brows. Remus dared to steal a look over his shoulder at Matthew and shook his head slightly. Archie wrapped an arm around Matthew's waist and held him up with a short nod toward Remus. Remus turned his attention back to Greyback.

Greyback dismissed his group with a wave of his wand. Remus' eyes followed them with sickening dread, as none of them approached him. He knew without looking that is was Greyback's foul paw that roughly encircled his bicep. Greyback's pungent odor wreathed around him, and Remus fought back nausea, mouth filling with saliva. 'I've been waiting for this,' Greyback rumbled in his ear. 'I was very upset when your parents chose to raise you among... humans,' he sneered. 'I had hoped to train you in my own image. Never bit one as young as you were. I was very happy when you survived...'

Remus swallowed heavily. 'I'm ever so pleased I could accommodate you,' he drawled, with a level of insolence that would have made Sirius proud.

'Tonight's the night you leave all that behind,' Greyback murmured, almost seductively.

Remus said nothing, but kept his gaze firmly glued to the ground in front of him. Greyback chuckled and turned, Apparating to a small village. Remus glanced around, studying the unfamiliar locale. It was lonely and windswept, with doors and windows shut tightly against the rising fog. 'Oh, God, no...' Archie moaned. Heads swiveled toward him in curiosity. 'No...' he breathed as Greyback struck off for a small cottage huddled on the edge of the village. 'Please, let them not be home,' he prayed, voice cracking under the strain.

The door burst open magically, and Greyback strode into the house, smirking, dropping his cloak behind him. He disappeared into the cottage, and frightened screams soon echoed from inside. The screams were soon replaced by cries of distress and pain. Greyback dragged a woman from the house by her hair, while she stumbled next to him, her clothing torn and livid marks across her face, indicating she'd been slapped. 'Melinda...' whispered Archie.

The woman, Melinda Campbell, tore her eyes from Greyback and searched for the source of the tortured whisper. 'Archie? What's going on?'

'You're about to find out,' Greyback growled, his lips close to her ear, then threw her to the ground.

Remus squeezed his eyes shut, unable to block the screams. Not Melinda's, nor Archie's.

The moon rose over them, full and heavy, bathing the scene with silvery light, lending the horror that occurred a slightly unreal aura. Remus felt something tickle his hand, and he looked down, his skin thickening, nails lengthening, coarse hair sprouting on the backs of his hands. For once, he welcomed the near mental oblivion that came with the transformation.

*****

The wolf shook the scratchy material from his paws and prowled in a tight circle, his nose lifted, scenting the breeze the washed over him. A soft howl escaped from his muzzle. At last... Other wolves... A pack. He could run with them. Hunt. Perhaps even kill... The howl grew louder, receiving answering howls from the pack.

The wolf stilled, then loped toward something that pulled him like a lodestone. He came to a small group of other wolves, gathered around something soft and feminine. He snuffled at the hand that lay, palm open, as if in supplication to the moon, just beyond the welter of paws. The hand twitched, and a keening moan made the wolf pause, but only for a moment. He nosed his way into the throng, exhilarated at new experience of belonging to pack.

The other wolves bit and slashed at the woman, her fair hair streaming against the grass, darkened and sticky with blood. The wolf raised a paw to strike at the expanse of quivering flesh, then halted, hovering a hairsbreadth away.

In spite of the raw wounds on her face, something stirred inside the wolf. The echo of a name. A photograph floating in someone's hand. She belonged to someone. Someone the wolf knew. He backed off, tail lowering, not quite tucked between his hind legs, then fled

*****

False dawn turned everything to ash. Remus limped back to the clump of trees where he'd transformed the previous night, sickened by what he'd almost done. He sorted through a pile of clothing, until he found his trousers and pants. He plunged a hand into one of the trouser pockets, sagging in relief when his fingertips brushed over the moleskin pouch, the outlines of the paper inside standing out in relief against the soft moleskin. He slipped the worn pants up to his hips and held up the trousers, looking for any rips or tears he'd have to repair when his hands stopped shaking. Satisfied they were relatively unharmed, he pulled them on and was in the process of donning the jumper, when he heard muffled sobs.

Remus peered around a tree, and his mouth fell open at the sight.

Archie held his wife's body in his arms, face buried in her ruined neck. The clothes had been ripped from her body, and she was naked. Long gouges marred her thighs and breasts, and her throat had been ripped out.

Remus stumbled toward Archie, barely able to breathe. 'Archie... You have to go home... Your son...'

'No,' Archie rasped, lifting his head. 'Do you think I want something like this to happen to him?'

'It wasn't you,' Remus argued.

'It could have been.' Archie shook his head slowly from side to side. 'No... I've got a sister in America. He'll go live with her. The Ministry won't allow me to care for him anyway.' He gently laid Melinda in the grass and rose unsteadily to his feet. 'We're no better than beasts, Remus,' he choked. 'Even if I didn't rip her throat out, I as good as handed her over to them.' He tripped away in the low fog, his breathing harsh in the quiet morning.

*****

10 October 1996

It's been more than a week since the last full moon, and I've only now been able to put quill to paper...

The normally neatly rendered copperplate script became an angular scrawl.

This is why I really shouldn't say anything personal. Not about me, nor anyone...

We lost two out of our... pack. The pack of neutral werewolves who haven't yet embraced Voldemort's side or the Order's. Maybe I oughtn't to be concerned about convincing them to join the Order, and focus on keeping them out of Voldemort's hands.

But we lost two... Lewis stayed with Greyback. He'd been treated so badly by his family after he was bitten, that he was convinced the only way to live was the way Greyback offered.

And we lost Archie. Matthew found him. He'd slashed his throat with a silver knife. The same kind of knife that's in Potions kits. He had been inconsolable since the death of his wife, and understandably so.

Matthew is only a few years older than Nymphadora... He has not accepted his lot in life with any sort of equanimity. And finding Archie has shaken him very badly. The first few nights afterward, he had such intense nightmares, that none of us slept. We've been resorting to dosing him with Calming draughts or Sleeping draughts before he goes to bed. Although, I cannot speak for the others, I'm not sleeping very much regardless, even without Matthew's nightmares. I fear we might be in danger of losing him, too - whether to suicide or Greyback, I cannot be certain.

Someone must have been watching us to have known about Melinda. To know that he still carried a photograph of Melinda and Finn and that he still wore his wedding ring. So from now on, I will no longer speak names aloud of those whom I care for, but most especially not hers. Nor will I write them down in here.

*****

Teddy stared at the castle until its outlines blurred.

Disjointed pictures floated through his head.

Frantically trying to locate Andromeda when he was very, very small... younger than Lily... Sobbing for her in earnest as he wandered between the sitting room and the kitchen, clutching his ragged stuffed wolf... Patting Harry on the face and calling him "Da", because all his picture books called the man with a small child so, and Harry's harsh voice telling him to not call him that...

Teddy recalled Victoire's memory of losing her parents and wondered if all early memories were as horrible as that, or even the ones he struggled to retrieve from the mists of his early life. Was it because the emotions associated with it were so strong as to make them indelible?

'Teddy?' Victoire loomed over him. 'You've missed dinner...'

Teddy swiped his hands across his cheeks at the surprising wetness that streaked over them. 'I'm not hungry,' he muttered, heaving himself to his feet, and fleeing into the recesses of the castle.