Tramp Werewolf

The Tramp Werewolf

By Diana Hale

It was in the hollowed out remnants of an ancient abbey that Remus Lupin finally bedded down for the night. He had traveled a long way on foot to reach the abbey, which stood like a dignified sentinel on top of a great hill in Glastonbury, England, and a weariness that was more than travel fatigue had settled into his bones. It was the heavy tiredness of the homeless; the weariness of the wanderer with no hearth and no bed to look forward to at the end of the journey. Remus was a tramp with no ties. Some may have found that a liberating freedom. Remus just found it depressing.

The moon was a silver scythe in the sky when Remus tossed his only piece of luggage, a fraying gray briefcase, onto the stony floor. It made a hollow thud that resonated in the darkness and made Remus wince. He waited, tense, for a moment and when there was no shout from a meandering tourist or night watchman he began to rummage around in his briefcase. The infant moon gave off very little light to see by, and Remus glared up at it briefly, cursing it bitterly. The last time he had seen the moon it had been ripe and full. That had been back in Bristol. Frowning, Lupin paused in his search and remembered.

He had miscalculated the days until the full moon and had been forced to spend what he spitefully called 'the change' ravaging the storage space above the stage in a closed down play house. It was lucky, Remus had realized in retrospect, that the only way to reach the lower levels of the play house was by ladder. Had wolves been able to climb, or had he been inclined to jump down the 30 feet to the stage, the rest of the township may have been done a great injury.

Remus had lived in the storage attic for nearly a month. He had rather liked it, which may have attributed to the miscalculation of days. Though the place was abandoned, some of the local bohemians would occasionally bring their instruments to the play house to practice. The acoustics were still good in the old place, and Remus had spent many pleasant hours sitting in his attic silently, enjoying the strains of Bach or Chopin with the occasional spattering of Louis Armstrong and Led Zeppelin. The musicians had never received any hint that there was a werewolf in their midst, and for three weeks Remus had felt almost at home.

He had left the play house with more than a little sadness, but he knew that he must not remain in one place for more than a month. To linger would mean to get to love a place and its people. Love had a tendency to make men careless, and Remus could not afford to be careless.

So he had fled the morning after the change with nothing other than his natty briefcase and his wand. For a while he had walked along the main roads, toying with the idea of calling the Knight Bus. In the end he decided against it. The weather was fair and would likely not stay that way for long with the coming of September. Before he had walked half a day, however, Remus began to get the uncomfortable feeling that he was being followed. When the feeling had not abated, he had taken to following the narrow roads that crisscrossed the country side, deciding on a whim to head towards the giant rising hill he saw in the distance.

During the time it took to get from Bristol to Glastonbury, the feeling of being watched had receded and returned with alarming consistency. It had hounded Remus like a bad itch that he could not scratch, causing him to look over his shoulder and become frustrated when he found that all that trailed him was his own shadow.

Now, nestled in a corner of the broken down abbey, Remus realized that the feeling had vanished completely. Either his pursuer had given up chase, or he had imagined the entire thing. With a shrug and a yawn Remus found what he had been looking for, an old quilt and a very flat pillow, and spread them on the ground. He settled down on them and with a wave of his wand conjured up a cup of cold tea. The tramp wizard sipped at it, gazed up at the dim moon, and listened to the crickets chirp until sleep found him.

It was dawn when Remus jolted awake with a gasp. A veil of mist had descended on the hill, and the weak morning light made it glint. Remus shaded his eyes from the glare and sat up. His back protested the movement and the sharp pain made the wizard inhale sharply. Other than that quiet hiss, the area was utterly silent. There was no rumble of cars from the nearby road, no chattering of birds; no drone of passing aircraft. What, then, had awoken the wizard from his rest?

Yawning, Remus stood up and looked about. The mist covered most of the hill below; nothing at all could be seen of the surrounding town. There was a humming vibration in the ground; Remus glanced down at the ground his stood on curiously. He had no sense of unease, despite the unnatural quiet. In fact, he felt rather peaceful and dreamy. Aside from his cramped back and legs, all the ache and weariness had left his body.

He stood there for quite a while, although, he noted, the sun marked no passage of time. This did not bother him either. He simply accepted it; he felt he could simply accept anything at the moment.

Then, from a great distance there came the hooting of an owl. Remus started and shook his head like a swimmer coming up from air. The owl hooted again, this time slightly closer. Annoyed, Remus turned back to his makeshift bed. As he did so, there was a faint popping sound in his ears, similar to the pop that happened when an airplane descended suddenly. As the pop sounded, the vibration in the ground disappeared and Remus felt suddenly disoriented. Gradually he became aware that he could hear birds singing loudly. On the road below, a vehicle honked its horn. This mist was dissipating.

Remus shook his head again and tried to focus on the pillow and blanket before him. He had stared at them for a full minute before he realized there was a sandy colored piece of rolled parchment lying on the dirty pillow. It was held shut by a green ribbon and looked terribly important perched amongst Remus' tattered things. Two long brown owl feathers lay haphazardly beside the parchment. It seemed that the hooting annoyance had been far closer than previously thought.

Slightly unnerved by the whole experience, Remus bent and plucked the parchment roll up with the air of someone who is expecting very bad news. He had no idea who would send him a letter. His parents had been dead several years. His closest friends were either dead or incarcerated, and something told Remus that Sirius Black would not be mailing him from Azkaban.

He slipped off the ribbon and unrolled the parchment. There, written in a broad and tidy scrawl, was a message from Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts:

My dear Remus Lupin

~I must say that you are of a particularly elusive breed. I have been seeking an audience with you for some time now. There is something very important I wish to discuss with you. There are, in fact, *several* things I wish to discuss with you, and I am certain you will find all of them of great interest. Since you are already awake on this fine morning, perhaps you would do me the honor of joining me at the Chalice Well at the foot of the magnificent Tor you have set up residence on. I will be waiting there with my colleague.

~A. Dumbledore. ~

Remus reread the message twice and then rolled it back up . He had not heard from Dumbledore since Sirius had betrayed Lily and James Potter and murdered Peter Pettigrew. Memories of that horrid day suddenly assaulted Remus' mind. He shut his eyes tightly, willing the memories away, but he could not block out the image of Dumbledore standing before him with lines of grief on his face.

....was Sirius who betrayed them. I am very sorry, Remus; I know how you cared for them...

...will be sent to Azkaban immediately, of course. The Pettigrews may wish to speak with you, since you knew Peter well...

...Voldemort has vanished, apparently obliterated by his own spell. The boy, Harry, will be sent to live with relatives...

...a tremendous loss...

Remus had returned to the Shrieking Shack in Hogsmeade later that same week. He had stayed there until the full moon came and obliterated his grief in a sea of rage and hunger. He had injured himself greatly during that change, and spent another week in the Shack recovering. Afterwards, Remus had left London and began his life as a wanderer.

But all of that was in the past. Remus shook his head and took a deep breath. He had worked out his grief years ago...or so he had told himself.

He looked at the parchment he clutched in his hand. Dumbledore had summoned him. Over a decade ago, Remus had fought beside the wizard against on of the greatest evils the world had ever known. The tramp werewolf would answer the mighty wizard's call once more. Perhaps this time, Remus thought, Dumbledore would be the bearer of good news.

The Chalice Well wasn't really a well at all. Rather, it was a spring that bubbled forth cold from the ground and fed a series of pools that had formed in the bedrock. A sign posted near the ticket booth proclaimed that the Well had never dried up in over 2,000 years of existence. Remus supposed that the pilgrims of 2,000 years ago had not had to pay to see the natural phenomenon. The ticket charge was 15 pounds, and Remus was keenly aware of his empty pockets.

The girl in the ticket window was reading a magazine. Remus shuffled his feet, unsure of what to do, and the girl looked up at him. She looked him up and down for a moment, and then said uncertainly, "Are you Mr. Lupin, then?"

Remus started, cleared his throat, and replied, "Er, yes. Yes, I am. I'm supposed to..."

"Your party is waiting for you in the garden area," the girl interrupted. "Go on through; no charge for you lot."

Remus raised an eyebrow at the ticket girl. She winked and gave him a knowing smile.

"Have a nice day, sir!" she said cheerfully. Then, lowering her voice to a whisper: "I'll keep the Muggles out until you've finished your business."

"Yes, of course," replied Remus, somewhat flustered. "Thank you."

The girl nodded and went back to reading her magazine as if the conversation had not taken place. Remus stood where he was a moment longer, then shifted his briefcase to the opposite hand and walked through the wooden archway.

The air was pleasantly cool and smelled of flowers. The sound of trickling water dancing over the stones was a melodic treat to Remus' ears. He paused for a moment, halfway down the path, and just listened. Then, feeling refreshed and more confident, he continued on to the garden where Dumbledore was waiting with an unexpected guest.

"Severus!" Remus exclaimed, surprised as he laid eyes on the dark figure of Severus Snape, potions master at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

Snape was sitting on a wooden bench next to one of the shallow pools looking comically uncomfortable amongst the colorful flowers. Dumbledore was standing nearby, examining a curious water spout in the shape of a lion. Both were dressed in Muggle clothes: Snape in a regular t-shirt and jeans (both imaginatively done in black), and Dumbledore in a cheerful blue track suit topped off by a pair of large black sunglasses.

Remus laughed out loud before he could stop himself. Snape gave him an evil look. Dumbledore, however, turned with a smile.

"Ah, Remus! You've joined us," said the headmaster. "Forgive me for not coming to see you directly. I'm afraid I am not entirely welcome up on the Tor."

"Oh?" Remus queried as he stepped forward to clasp the hand Dumbledore had extended.

"Yes, well, the Sidhe queen in charge of that hill and I rather disagree on what is appropriate."

The headmaster sat down on a shaded bench and motioned for Remus to do the same.

"Sidhe queen?" Remus asked as he sat. "There's a faery mound here, then?"

"The entire Tor is a faerie mound," Dumbledore said, waving a hand dismissively. "I thought it terrible rude that the queen allowed mortals to wander into her domain and then couldn't be bothered to let them out again. No regulation whatsoever. I'm afraid Her Majesty did not appreciate me telling her so. The sidhe are very sensitive to criticism."

" I had no idea it was a faery mound," Lupin said, perplexed.

"That is somewhat surprising. You'll want to read up on the local folklore before going up there again." Dumbledore removed his sunglasses and peered at Remus keenly. "I suggest that caution is used if you decide to camp on the Tor at dusk or dawn. The magic of that hill is ancient and will not yield to the spells of a mortal wizard."

"Good to know," Remus mumbled, remembering the mist and the unearthly quiet of that morning's dawn.

"I hate to disrupt this lesson," Snape drawled suddenly, "but I must remind you, headmaster, that I have much to do before the start of the term. It would be prudent for us to finish this little meeting as quickly as possible."

"Yes, and indeed there is much to talk about." Dumbledore sighed. "I suppose I should first ask...Remus, how often do you read the papers? Muggle or wizard?"

"Well," said Remus slowly, "I pick them up occasionally. I know that there was an incident at the school last term."

Snape snorted. "Yes. There was most certainly an...incident."

"You have been a wanderer for far too long, Remus," Dumbledore said. "There is much to tell you. It began the year James and Lily's son Harry began attending Hogwarts, though truthfully I suspect it had been inevitable for some time..."

Remus sat silently as Dumbledore explained in detail what had happened over the previous two years. The return of a parasitic Voldemort through the body of Professor Quirrell, the defeat of this returned Voldemort by young Harry, the finding of Tom Riddle's diary and the release of the basilisk...Remus listened to it all, his stomach churning apprehensively.

"Are you reestablishing the Order, then?" Remus asked once Dumbledore had seemingly finished.

The old wizard chuckled quietly. "Not yet, Remus. No, that isn't why I've summoned you. I am afraid there is a bit more still to be told."

Dumbledore paused. Remus glanced at Snape. The potion master's face was a disinterested mask. His eyes gave away nothing, no hints as to whether the 'bit more' was good...or terribly bad.

Dumbledore sighed, drawing attention back to himself. "Sirius Black has escaped from Azkaban," he said simply.

Remus felt his eyes widen, but otherwise nothing of his outward appearance betrayed the cold feeling of shock that had hit him.

"H-how?" he stammered.

"That is uncertain," Dumbledore replied, his voice grave.

"When?"

"No more than a week ago. The Ministry is doing all they can to locate him. They've alerted everyone, including the Muggle authorities."

"Yes," mumbled Remus. His voice sounded faint and far away, even to his own ears. "Yes, that's...that's good then."

Remus felt fairly dizzy. Sirius had somehow done the impossible and escaped from Azkaban. Sirius was on the loose and nobody knew he was an animagus except for Remus himself.

Nobody knew...and Remus could not tell them. Even though Sirius had done horrid things, had done terrible things...Remus could not give up that secret. To do so would mean fully accepting that the man who had once been such a dear friend had turned traitor, had turned murderer. Though reason told Remus that he should give this potentially crucial bit of information to the proper authorities, the part of him that would always remain an eleven year old boy playing wizard chess by the lake with his loud-mouthed but compassionate friend refused to let him.

"Are you well, Lupin?" Snape's voice shocked Remus out of his reverie. The werewolf licked his lips and tried to speak. No words came out. He cleared his throat and finally managed a hoarse sentence.

"Yes, fine. I was just...remembering."

"I can assume, then, by your shocked response that Sirius has not attempted to contact you?" Dumbledore asked, catching the eye of the shell shocked wizard and holding it.

"No, certainly not," said Remus. He was slightly taken aback. "Why would he?"

"With Voldemort gone and the Death Eater's scattered, Sirius has no real contacts outside of Azkaban. If he was going to trust anyone to hide him, it would be you," Dumbledore said reasonably. "For give me; I had to ask. Personally I think it is more likely that Sirius will not think anyone trustworthy. Betrayers are quite certain that everyone will betray them."

Remus said nothing. A headache was beginning to form behind his eyes. He was beginning to wish he was still on the hilltop surrounded by mist and feeling eternally peaceful and warm.

"The headmaster suspects that Black will attempt to go after the Potter boy," said Snape. He said it almost carelessly, but his eyes watched Remus keenly, gauging his reaction. "Should the Dark Lord return, what better way to curry his favor than by destroying the great Harry Potter?"

Remus studied Snape suspiciously. The potions master seemed to be trying to goad Remus into some sort of action. Did Snape think that Remus would leap up and rush to Harry's side to protect the boy? Or did Snape believe that Remus would instead defend Sirius, exclaiming, perhaps, that Sirus would never harm a child?

Remus did neither. Instead he turned to Dumbledore, who was watching passively.

"Is that true?" Remus asked the headmaster. "Is Harry in danger?"

"Possibly," Dumbledore replied, "but I can assure you that he will be quite safe at Hogwarts."

"Providing, of course, that he does not go on one of his midnight excursions into forbidden areas," interjected Snape.

Dumbledore smiled. "Yes. Providing, of course. Perhaps, Remus, you could keep an eye on him. I daresay Harry would be more apt to listen to an old friend of his father's."

Remus frowned. "I don't understand."

"I have a vacancy," Dumbledore said cheerily, "in the Defense Against the Dark Arts position. You were a terribly bright student; I am sure you could do an admirable job."

Remus flinched as if he had been physically struck. "Surely you can't mean...Dumbledore, I'm honored, but I couldn't possibly teach at the school. It's is far too dangerous. Suppose I attacked one of the children? No, no, I-"

"-am entirely too predictable when it comes to protestations," finished Dumbledore. "This is precisely why I brought Severus along with me this morning." With that, the headmaster turned to Snape with a smile. Snape sighed slightly.

"You have heard of the Wolf's Bane potion, have you not, Lupin?" Snape said.

"Yes, of course," Remus replied warily.

"The headmaster has asked that I prepare it for you monthly, should you join us. I have agreed although..." he gave Remus a slightly hostile look, "somewhat grudgingly."

"Thank you, Severus," Remus said sincerely. "That is...very good of you."

"Consider it a favor," Snape murmured.

"So you see that the danger is remote," put in Dumbledore. "The time to wander has ended, Remus. You are needed."

Remus was silent for a moment. Then: "What will the parent's think?"

"They will think that their children are lucky to have a competent Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher after two years of disasters," said Dumbledore. "They need know nothing else."

Remus was silent once more. He did not understand why Dumbledore had chosen a tramp werewolf, of all people, to teach future wizards and witches. However, the fact remained that Dumbledore *had* chosen him. Could he, Remus Lupin, return to the one place he had felt truly welcome after so many years of heartache and toil? Could he risk falling back in love with the stone walls, the lush green grounds, the tepid lake, the tall towers, and the forbidding forest? Was it time to cast off the journeyer's cloak and return to a society that in all probability would shut and hate him if they discovered the beast that dwelled behind the human exterior?

"Very well," Remus said quietly, his voice hoarse. "I still worry about the risk, but I will do it." He smiled wanly. "It will be good to have a home again."

"Brilliant," Snape muttered, then stood up. He made as if he was going to smooth his robes, realized he was not wearing any, and balled his hands into fists. "If you don't mind, headmaster, I'll be taking the portkey back."

"Very well," said Dumbledore. He stood up and handed the large sunglasses to Snape. "Thank you for accompanying an old man, Severus."

Snape bowed shortly, pulled his wand out of his back pocket, tapped the sunglasses once and was gone. Dumbledore stretched his arms over his head and ran in place a bit.

"Very comfortable, these Muggle clothes," he commented. "I'm afraid Severus didn't much care for his, but we can't be too careful with all these Muggle tourists about." He paused and smiled. "I am glad that you accepted, Remus. I know you have fears and worries, but do not let them own you. Without pain and fear, we cannot know true joy and happiness."

He turned and gazed up at the hill standing proudly beneath the sun. "Our experiences shape us, Remus."

The wizened wizard continued to gaze at the hill for a moment, then turned and said cheerfully, "The term starts a week from today. You can catch the train at Somerset, I believe; it will get you where you need to go."

Remus nodded and stood up. "Thank you, Albus."

"Consider it a favor," Dumbledore said with a wry smile. Remus smiled back. The two said their goodbyes and then with a wink Dumbledore apparated away.

Remus stood in the quiet garden for a while longer. Then he picked up his tattered briefcase, stole a quick drink of the cool, sweet spring water and waked back up the stone path to where the ticket girl was drowsing. He passed her quietly, and continued to the road that would eventually lead to Somerset.

One more week of wandering

, he thought, and I'll be the tramp werewolf no longer.

The End