Ashes and Dust

Chapter one - The Season of Giving and Receiving

T'was the night before Christmas and the mice in the Lupin residence were still stirring. Their noses in the air, they were trying to locate the source of the delicious smells that were wafting through the house. To everyone who wasn't a mouse, it was obvious where the odours were coming from.

Mrs. Lupin was hard at work in the kitchen, baking up a storm before the family started arriving the next day, Christmas day. She had reckoned that there wouldn't be enough time the next day, what with family and friends and Christmas dinner to cook, to start and finish all the holiday baking she had planned. So she waved her wand this way and that, making the bread dough knead itself and making the cookie dough roll and cut itself into Christmas shapes. Another wave of the wand and sprinkles and icing flew this way and that. Cakes soared magically through the air and into the waiting oven, whose door opened and shut of its own volition, while ingredients measured and mixed themselves in large bowls. All in all, Mrs. Lupin had made much progress in her opinion, all with the help of her five-year-old son, Remus.

Little Remus Lupin was going much slower than his mother. He was mixing flour and sugar and salt and baking powder by hand in a large wooden bowl. This was made hard by the fact that he was so short, he had to stand on a stool to see over the counter top. Add this to the size of the bowl and you had a perfectly frustrated, but determined, five-year-old. Or as his mother liked to say, an accident waiting to happen. Which, of course, it did.

Being too short to see the inside of the bowl, Remus decided that it would be a good idea to tilt the bowl just a little bit so he could at least catch a glimpse of what he was doing, which in the end turned out not to be such a good idea. However, Remus quickly learned that, when tipped, flour doesn't stay in the bowl.

Remus tilted the bowl ever so slightly, just enough to see its inside and contents, but a sprinkle of flour rained down, catching him full in the nose, and as most people are bound to do in this situation, Remus sneezed. Hard.

The bowl fell and landed square on Remus's head, spilling its entire contents onto the five-year-old. Hearing the clatter, Amy Lupin turned around to see a mound of freshly fallen snow, and a snowman with a large wooden hat that covered its face, making it resemble a mushroom, where her son had been just moments before. Suppressing a grin, Mrs. Lupin pointed her wand at the offending snowman/mushroom and muttered, "Scourgiffy!" The snowman/mushroom vanished instantly to be replaced by little Remus, grinning broadly at his mother. There wasn't a trace of flour to be seen on the boy or the floor surrounding him.

"Remus!" Mrs. Lupin cried exasperatedly, hands on hips, trying her hardest not to burst out laughing. "What have I told you about tilting bowls with ingredients in them?"

"Nottodoitbutitwasn'tmyfaultit-" Remus gushed.

"Hush! Stop talking so fast; you sound too much like your father and I can't understand a thing your saying," Amy interrupted, the corner of her lips twitching.

"Sorry, mama, but it really wasn't my fault! The flour made me sneeze and-"

"And why did the flour fall out of the bowl?"

"Because it wanted to?"

Mrs. Lupin snorted with laughter.

"Remus, oh Remus, what am I going to do with you?"

Remus had heard this exact sentence many times and he had long since developed a response.

"Give me something easier to do?" he asked hopefully. He loved helping his mother with the baking.

Amy shook her head and sighed.

"Very well, but at this rate there won't be any baked goods for tomorrow!" she exclaimed teasingly.

Remus gave her a funny look. She smiled.

"Go on over to the table and start cutting out the gingerbread people. And don't mess this up, Remus, or I'm going to have to reconsider letting you help me!" She winked at him and he giggled. It was funny when his mother was mock stern with him.

Over to the scrubbed table he went and picked up a cookie cutter. It was in the shape of a gingerbread man, with an abnormally round head.

"Mama?" Remus asked, perplexed.

"Yes, Remmy?"

"Why don't gingerbread men have ears?"

Amy Lupin snorted with laughter.

"The questions you ask Remus!" she exclaimed. "Where do you come up with them?"

Remus shrugged.

"I dunno... why, though?"

The question hung in the air while Mrs. Lupin pretended to ponder the question, but Remus knew she wasn't really giving it much thought.

"I honestly don't know, Remmy. Maybe because they would be too small?"

He gave another small shrug and returned to his work. The smell of ginger and other spices was almost overpowering and the heat at his back was comforting compared to the minus thirty or so it was outside. Remus shivered as he glanced out the frosty window. It was a perfect night; the full moon made the snow sparkle and the stars shone cold and bright in the black sky, illuminating the forest to the rear of the house. It was completely untouched, by man or beast alike; perfect.

Suddenly a thought crossed his mind.

"When is daddy coming home?" he asked his mother, pushing the shape of a gingerbread child into the dough rolled in front of him on the scrubbed table.

Mrs. Lupin frowned and cast a worried look out the window.

"I don't know, Remmy. I just don't know."

Remus frowned, too, and looked back out the window. Johnathan Lupin had left the house in a hurry that morning. He had mumbled something about werewolves while kissing his wife goodbye, then had turned to his son with a forced smile on his face.

"Keep your mama company while I'm gone today, Remmy, and help her with the baking."

"I will," Remus had assured him.

"Good man, Remus," Johnathan had said, clapping his son on the shoulder with fake heartiness, and with that he had turned on his heels and disappeared.

Remus hadn't thought much about the exchange earlier, but now it disturbed him. Had something happened to his father? Had he been attacked by werewolves? Or was it something trivial, like a long, tiresome report, or falling asleep at his desk. Remus hoped it was the later.

As if in answer to his thoughts, there was a popping sound and Mr. Lupin appeared in the middle of the kitchen. His face was grey with fatigue and lined with worry. Seeing the state her husband was in, Mrs. Lupin wiped her flour-dusted hands on her apron, stuck her wand in a pocket, and rushed to her lover's side.

"Hard day?" she asked sympathetically, steering him toward a chair.

"Ah, Amy, love, 'hard day' doesn't sum it up a'tall."

Another frown crossed Mrs. Lupin's young face.

"Something happened at work?" It didin't sound much like a question to Remus.

"Yeah, ye could say that. Listen, love, we need to talk." He glanced at Remus meaningfully, a meaning that wasn't totally lost on the five-year-old. "Now."

"Remmy," she said without taking her eyes off her husband. "It's getting late, now, go on upstairs and get ready for bed, won't you?"

"Yes, mama."

Remus left the kitchen and started up the stairs. He was half way to the second story when he heard his father speak.

"That bastard!"

Remus was so shocked he stopped in his tracks. He had never head his father swear before. Johnathan Lupin wasn't the type to swear. He was a very calm and controlled person, hardly ever got angry, and was extremely difficult to provoke. If he swore, one knew he meant it. Remus sat down on a stair and wrapped an arm around one of the spindles of the railing. He wanted to hear what had bothered his father so.

"Who?" Remus heard his mother ask anxiously.

"Fenrir Greyback."

"Who?"

"'E's a werewolf, and a savage one at that. Gotten to like the taste o' flesh far too much, tha' one. 'E's attacked more people than most other werewolves put t'gether."

Amy Lupin gasped. Remus stopped breathing so he wouldn't miss anything.

"'E was making trouble at the Minsitry t'day. Tryin' t' get the Wizengamot to allow 'im t' 'ave a young 'un of 'is own. O'couse, they called on me t' bring 'is file, an' I nearly put me back out tryin' t' carry it down t' the courtroom."

"He wanted a child of his own?" Remus's mother sounded disgusted.

"Yup. But o'course the Wizengamot never gave 'im permission. S'no surprise, really, when ya look at all the things 'e's done. An' even if the Wizengamot told 'im 'e could, I doubt there's a woman out there who'd want to mate with the son of a bitch. Don' think 'e's 'ad a bath in a dog's age, the filthy animal."

"How did he react?"

"Badly." Johnathan sighed. "Don' think 'e thought it fair. Think 'e blames me partly, too. Glarin' at me all the while the guards were escortin' 'im t' the door."

"Why didn't they just arrest him and throw him in Azkaban, so he can't attack any more people?" Amy sounded scared. Remus wondered why.

"Because they don' 'ave proof. Of anything. But I know better. I know 'e's done it; we all do. I can see it in 'is eyes when 'e's denyin' it. But we can't do anything. Oh sure, they can in'ibit him from reproducin', but they can't lock 'im away. S'too bad, really; could've saved a few innocent people from hell."

Remus shivered. He didn't like the sound of this Greyback werewolf. He sounded scary.

There was a sudden movement in the kitchen and with a pang of guilt Remus remembered that he was supposed to be getting ready for bed. He rushed up the rest of the stairs to the bathroom and started brushing his teeth. He scrutinized his reflection for the longest time. His light brown hair was in need of a cutting, or so his mother said, but Remus thought it made him look older and cool. He was rather pale, and he felt himself wishing he had his father's tanned skin. He peered into his hazel eyes and wondered what he'd look like when he was older. Remus sighed; older seemed a long ways away.

Downstairs, there was the sound of a kettle boiling, the shrill whistle audible even through the bathroom door. As Remus was splashing water on his face, he heard the soft rumbling of voices below. They think I'm in bed, Remus thought with another pang of guilt. He started to feel ashamed that he had eavesdropped on his parents' conversation.

It was only after Remus had gotten into his pyjamas and crawled into bed, that his mother came up to kiss him goodnight.

"No story tonight, Remmy, sorry," she informed him. "Your father and I have a lot to do before bed."

"It's okay, mama." But Remus couldn't help feel disappointed; it was these nightly bedtime stories that really got him in the mood of sleeping.

Amy smiled lovingly down at her only son, then bent down and gave him a kiss on the forehead. "Goodnight, Remmy."

"Goodnight, mama. I love you," Remus whispered as his mother blew out the candle and crossed to the door.

"I love you too, Remmy. Sleep well." The door closed gently behind her.

Remus listened to her footsteps retreating down the stairs and back to the kitchen to join his father. He wondered, as most children his age are bound to do, what was so important for his parents to do that his mother couldn't find the time to read him a bedtime story.

He lay there for the longest time, wide awake and staring at the full moon through his window, listening to his parents moving around the kitchen. He turned over and the darkness pressed against his eyes. Remus opened them to their full extent and slowly they adjusted to the gloom, and as they did, Remus noticed the tiny sliver of black in his grey wall. He had left the closet door open. He closed his eyes in an attempt to forget about it and go to sleep, but this minor distraction was making rest impossible. With a sigh and trying not to make much noise, Remus threw back the covers, tiptoed to the closet, and shut the door with a quiet click. Satisfied and ready to sleep, Remus turned back to his bed. But he never got there. The full moon caught his eye and the window beckoned to him. As if in a trance, Remus padded to the sill.

The snow was crisp and silver under the moon's light. The birch, maple, spruce, cedar, and pine trees all swayed in the wind, all bare of leaves and covered in snow and frost. The fresh snow was silver, except in a flickering, orange square of light coming from the small window in the kitchen.

He stood for a while, watching the forest ripple, an ocean with waves of branches. He soon grew tired of this, however, and, thinking of his nice warm bed, went to turn away from the window. But something out on the lawn snagged his attention. Back to the panes of glace he faced and as he watched, the light coming from the kitchen window below went out and the sounds of his parents climbing the stairs reached his ears.

"Do you think he's asleep?"

Remus froze.

"I don' know... Should we check on 'im?"

Remus stopped breathing. He didn't want his parents to catch him out of bed.

There was a pause, then...

"No. We might wake him up. Better not risk it."

Remus breathed again as he heard his parents' footfalls pass his bedroom door and continue on down the hall. Only when he heard his parents' bedroom door close did Remus look back to the undisturbed scene below... no, not totally undisturbed. There was a set of tracks just visible in the rays of moonlight coming from the night sky. Following the tracks with his eyes, Remus saw an animal, it looked like a dog, emerge from the forest behind his house. It sniffed around a tree trunk, then lifted its head and Remus got the distinct impression that it was looking up at his window. Animals, any kind of creature at all, fascinated him, and he wanted to know why the poor dog was out on such a cold night as this.

Remus's mind was made up in an instant. He pulled on some socks and his dressing gown and proceeded to the door. He opened it slowly, hoping it wouldn't creek and alert his parents to his movements. The hallway, not having any windows, was pitch black. The only light was coming up the stairs and Remus headed towards them. At the end of the corridor he descended each step slowly and carefully, jumping the last one, which squeaked, and stepped into the entrance way and into semi-darkness. He grabbed his boots, which were waiting by the door, shoved them on his feet, and was out into the night without even making a sound.

The bitter, wintry air made him shiver as he made his way, feeling like he was wading through molasses. The snow was far above the small five-year-old's boots and he could feel his socks soaking through. He pulled his dressing gown tighter around him as he reached the back corner of the house. The trees stretched before him like an army of giant soldiers, their many bare arms reaching for the heavens, lit by a myriad stars.

It wasn't hard to find the dog tracks again. Remus followed them into the trees to where he had seen the dog emerge form it's place of hiding earlier, but the animal was nowhere in sight. He started to shiver violently as the frigid wind whipped around him, making the trees dance, and it suddenly occurred to him, looking up at the full moon and remembering his parents' conversation, that tonight wasn't the best night to be roaming around outside, looking for a large animal that could easily be wild and vicious.

It was only then that Remus noticed that the tracks he had been following circled back around so that they were behind him. Terror struck him as he heard the crunching of snow behind him, the heavy tread of an enormous beast.

Remus's turned slowly around at the sound of growling and came face to face with yellow eyes and inch long fangs. His heart stopped. His mouth dropped open and his eyes grew wide as he realized that what he had seen was no dog.

The werewolf lunged and Remus turned to flee for his life, panic threatening to engulf him, but the werewolf was too fast for the five-year-old. He felt the giant paws hit him square in the back and felt the fangs pierce his side and he screamed for all he was worth as the pain cut him like a hundred angry knives. The jaws released and Remus managed to roll over. He looked up at his inhuman attacker and saw its fangs were dripping in blood - his blood. His stomach churned and he screamed again, this time hearing the back door bang open. Someone was yelling and running towards the attack.

At this, the werewolf ceased its onslaught, and, its paws still pinning the screaming child to the snow covered earth, howled at the full moon. Then it leaped away, dodging a curse thrown at it by Johnathan Lupin as it went, and disappeared into the December night.

Remus couldn't scream anymore, he just wanted to die so the pain would go away. He turned over and vomited onto the snow beside him. Someone (he only had a vague sense who) knelt down by his side and he felt his mother's hand on his face, felt her warm tears, heard her sobs.

"Remmy?!" she moaned.

A single tear rolled down Remus's face.

"Mama..."

Then all went black as he fell unconscious in snow that was slowly being stained the colour of his own blood.