Chapter Text
Remus had almost spent a full month in Greyback’s pack before he was truly given a reason to leave. He woke late one morning to find himself almost alone. Confused, he sat up, staring around - he’d grown used to having Castor and Jeremy nearby, he felt horribly exposed without their body heat.
“Father summoned them.” A voice came out of the gloom.
Remus raised his palm to create a heat-free flame for light, as Castor had taught him. It was easier than lumos , though not as bright. Gaius stepped out from the shadows of one of the chambers. He stared down at Remus. “Father came this morning. Summoned Castor and Livia. Only them. I suppose Castor is forgiven, now.”
“Will they be back soon?” Remus asked warily, drawing his cloak around his shoulders protectively.
“I don’t expect so.” Gaius mused. He was fiddling with something shiny, kept glancing down at it, “They’ve gone to meet the Dark Lord.”
“What?!”
“It’s almost the moon. He’ll have plans for the pack.”
“...plans?” Reality came clanging down on Remus’s head, like glass shattering; like a car crash.
“You know,” Gaius said, apparently uninterested in Remus’s crisis of conscience, “I always wondered why father turned three males. I thought perhaps he wished us to learn to lead together; to share the burden of responsibility. But now I realise. He means us to compete.”
“What do you want, Gaius?” Remus stood up, squaring his shoulders to remind Gaius that he was bigger, and stronger, when he wanted to be. “Want me to sing you another song?”
Gaius sneered at him, cheeks red. He backed away.
“You will not triumph.” He said. He threw the shiny object down at Remus’s feet before turning to leave, and it made a hard, metal sound. It was Remus’s pocket watch.
“Oi!” Remus yelled, stooping to grab it up. But Gaius was gone.
Remus slumped against the wall, running his fingers through his grimy hair. His heart raced, his breathing quickened, and he began to panic. Shit . Shit shit shit .
Of course they were still working with Voldemort - the war hadn’t stopped simply because Remus was there. He felt stupid and naïve - and worst of all, he felt guilty. He was supposed to be on a bloody mission! But he hadn’t been thinking of the Order, not really - he’d been more concerned about protecting the pack than getting back to his friends; his true family. All this time, Remus had thought of himself as a victim - when really he was the worst kind of traitor.
He shrugged off his fur cloak. He didn’t want to look like them.
He badly wanted to see Sirius - after weeks of suppressing it, his longing burst up like a geyser, so that he couldn’t get a grip on it and squash it back down again. Sirius would know what to do - or he’d at least make Remus feel better about everything.
Remus looked down at his watch, the only connection he still has to his friends. The gold had lost its lustre, and he rubbed it on his filthy trouser leg to see if that helped. Then he opened and closed it a few times, running the pads of his thumbs along the smooth vine leaf engraving. It had stopped working the day he used it to escape his cell; he’d squeezed all the magic out of it like a sponge. Another betrayal.
Once he had at least calmed his breathing down ( jesus christ what I wouldn’t do for a fag ), Remus tried to think rationally. His first instinct was to get out immediately; just walk into the woods and disapparate.
But then what? Explain to Moody and Ferox that while he’d had a lovely few weeks away, things had got a bit too scary so he’d turned tailed at the first opportunity? No. If Greyback was meeting with Voldemort then that had to mean an attack was coming. Remus couldn’t let that happen.
He would wait, at least to find out if Castor would tell him anything. In the meantime, Remus did his very best to conjure up a happy memory. He would need to send a patronus as soon as possible.
* * *
Brothers! Sisters! Gather near.
Livia’s voice inside his head had to be one of the least pleasant experiences Remus had had since joining the pack. It worked, though, he scrambled up the stairs of the crypt into the ruined church, where the others were congregating. Greyback stood by the pulpit, Castor and Livia either side of him, backs straight and heads high.
“My children,” Greyback addressed them all, raising his arms like an evangelist preacher, “The moon approaches, our time is near.”
There was a murmur of excitement at this. For many, the full moons represented a chance to be free; to be one’s true self.
Greyback raised a finger to silence them. He smiled paternally, “I have spoken with our benefactor. This moon, we shall feast on our enemies. We have been given the gift of prey.”
Some of the pack members cheered and whooped, chattering with even more excitement.
Oh no, Remus’s stomach lurched, oh no, oh no…
“Livia and Castor will lead you.” Greyback said, “You will bring the girl-child to me - the parents you may keep for yourselves.”
More cheering. Not everyone - Remus saw a few of the younger ones glancing at each other shiftily, and Jeremy’s wide eyes were practically burning a hole in Castor’s back. Not all of them , Remus thought, they can be saved, they can, they can…
Remus Lupin. A voice popped into his head. He blinked, stunned - it was Castor. It is not safe to speak of this here. You will join me in the forests.
Remus looked over at Castor, who was staring blankly ahead, as always, inscrutable. He hadn’t tried communicating like that before, but the pack was close enough, and the magic of the forest pressing in, so he concentrated hard.
Yes. I understand.
Castor made no sign that he had heard, so Remus just had to hope. Greyback left shortly after that, giving Remus a cruel wink as he passed,
“Your time to shine, cub.” He said. Remus knew he ought to nod, or something, but he was too tense, and just stared stiffly back.
Castor announced that he was going hunting, and Remus quickly agreed to join him. Livia gave them both an appraising look.
“Do not tire yourselves, brothers. We have such games ahead of us.”
They walked through the woods in silence. It was late afternoon, and quite mild for April; the sun lowering but still bright. They’d had very little rain so far this year, but that hadn’t stopped the trees and plants around them from exploding into life. Everything was lush and green and bountiful, and as they approached a small clearing Remus saw that the bluebells had begun to spring up, and the woodland floor ahead of them was carpeted in a glorious haze of soft mauve.
“Won’t you miss this?” Castor asked, quietly. He obviously judged them far enough away from Greyback.
“Yes.” Remus replied. He meant it. He had hated nature all his life - even the forbidden forest. He loved London; the concrete and pollution and the noise. But the past month had changed him, and he knew how much he would miss the peace and quiet, and feeling so close to the earth.
“But your time with us grows short.” Castor said. “I think perhaps all our time is short, now.” He sighed heavily, and looked at Remus with completely human eyes; grey and penitent, “ I am ready to defy my father.”
“Do you mean -- will you help me?”
“We shall help each other. For the good of the pack. I have a plan, but Remus Lupin, you must listen to me, and you must obey me. I need to know that you will do what needs to be done.”
“I will never kill for him.” Remus said, fiercely.
“But you might kill.” Castor responded, raising an eyebrow.
It wasn’t a question; it was a statement. And Remus did not deny it.
* * *
Thursday 12th April 1979
There were no goodbyes, of course. Remus did not even know who was on their side - his and Castor’s. No names were spoken, he just had to have faith.
On the morning of the full moon Remus crept as far away from the pack as he could to cast his patronus. He hoped that the others wouldn’t pick up on the spell, which was powerful and sure to attract attention.
He’d never sent a message via patronus before, and once again regretted the creature’s fearsome size and aspect. Hopefully it wouldn’t be too terrifying for Sirius to hear Remus’s voice coming from the giant silver wolf’s jaws. He could only manage three words. Castle. Tomorrow. Dawn.
And that was his escape route taken care of - if he survived the night. Castor promised - Remus made him swear on their very blood - that if Remus did not live, then he would get a message to Sirius and the Potters. There was no other way, Remus decided. He had to be there for the attack; the last time he’d warned the Order about werewolves nothing had been done. So he would have to do it himself, and damn the consequences.
Obviously, he’d prefer not to die, though.
An hour or so before moonrise, the pack apparated together. It was just as well that Remus hadn’t run away to tell Moody at his first opportunity - because he had absolutely no idea where they were going. He was forced to side-along with Livia, and they landed together on a soft mossy patch of grass.
Remus wrenched his arm away from her and stared around at his new surroundings. It was such a weird place - just a flat plain of grass, a few trees, a fence - ah. He realised stupidly that they were in a park. Man-made nature. The whole place smelled human and muggle-ish. The rest of the pack were arriving around them, one by one with a *crack* and a thud.
“That’s the place,” Castor said, addressing everyone. He pointed over the fence to a row of houses across the road. The park was in a quiet muggle cul-de-sac. “With the green door.”
Remus crept as close to the fence as he dared, and peered over at the building. Had his parents lived in a similar house, once? It looked like the sort of place Hope belonged.
It was a small, detached house. The front door was a cheerful shade of green, and the porch light glowed soft amber in the twilight. Remus could make out the silhouette of someone moving in one of the upstairs windows - the pale pink blind was drawn down, so he could only see shadows. That must be the child’s room, he thought with a terrible wave of nausea.
He couldn’t let this happen. He wouldn’t. If he had to kill Livia. If he had to die himself, he wouldn’t let-- wait a minute .
A gust of wind blew a scent in his direction. One he recognised. He sniffed the air again. What was that? Someone he knew? It smelled almost like Sirius, almost , but not quite. Old blood; old magic. A relative? Not Regulus, he wouldn’t be caught dead on a street this muggle-ish. Nor either of their parents. It was feminine too, it was more like Narcissa, or… surely not Andromeda??
He couldn’t be sure, he’d only met her once, when he was thirteen. But she had a daughter. A daughter who would be about five or six, now. Heart pounding, Remus desperately wanted to get closer, to find out more.
Then, in an amazing stroke of luck, the green door opened, letting light out into the street. A man stepped out, carrying a shiny black bin bag. He walked to the end of the garden path, opened the dustbin lid, dropped the bag inside, then returned to the house.
It was Ted Tonks.
No, no no , Remus thought to himself - if something happened to Andromeda, to her little girl… Sirius would never forgive him. Remus didn’t know if he would forgive himself.
“Remus!” Castor whispered from the bushes behind him, “It is almost time.”
Remus turned and nodded. He hoped this would work. He’d never been so close to praying in his life. A stab of pain shot through his back. The moon was rising.
He backed into the park, where a few of the others had curled up on the ground, preparing for the agonies of transformation.
Remus looked at Castor, standing beside him. It was a peculiar sensation - he had transformed in front of the marauders before, but never with others who were experiencing the same thing. Castor caught his eye, and seeming to understand at once, reached out his hand.
Remus took it, gratefully, and gripped it hard, clenching his teeth as the pain swept through him. Castor gripped back, sharing his suffering, but also lending strength. They both fell to their knees at the same time, and Remus remembered no more.
The wolf stretched its limbs and sniffed at the night air. Pack. Prey. Magic.
He rolled over in the grass, pleased to be free, unencumbered by human worries.
His pack mate nudged him, huffing softly, and he remembered - he had something to do. This was not a night for playing, or for hunting.
The she-wolf, and the one that hated him both snapped at the others, and the young ones ducked their heads, lowered their haunches.
But he would not - he was not a cub; he was full grown. He was strong as them.
The pack-mate with the scarred nose smelled good, he was strong too. He growled at the others, so the wolf did too; puffing up his body and showing all his teeth so that they knew.
The scarred one gave out a bark, then, and turned away, running for the trees. Some of the others followed, confused.
The dark wolf, the wolf who hated him, snarled and leapt at the scarred one, onto his back. They grappled, turning over in the grass growling and snapping.
The she-wolf watched. She sat, and yawned. She need not involve herself.
The rest of the pack watched avidly, panting and yapping as blood was drawn.
He wanted to help, to jump in and start biting - but the scarred one needed to win it himself. It was his fight.
The scent in the air changed, and the she-wolf stood, ears up, tail swishing.
A human.
They had been heard. She began to stalk towards the fence, hunting, as the stupid human shouted in its stupid human language.
Not quite knowing why, he howled, long and as loud as he could.
The she-wolf whipped around, growling fiercely at him, pulling rank, but he howled again.
The human retreated, fast. They knew now. They would bring back others. He had endangered the pack.
The she-wolf barked at the dark one, but he was already pinned to the ground by the scarred one. Victory. The young wolves looked up to the scarred one now, sniffing at him and lowering their heads.
The scarred one barked, then climbed off the dark one. He turned and began to walk away. Some followed. The pack divided.
The she-wolf ran after the scarred one, to bring him back, to restore order. But she would not catch them. They were a new pack now; unless she killed the scarred one they would not follow anyone else.
He wanted to go too. He wanted to run with them forever, and be their leader, and chase deer through the dark nights…
But no. He had to do this first. He had to protect… to protect… what was it? It was so hard to think, when the delicious scent of human meat was so close; coming in on all sides.
The dark one limped to its feet. Remus growled. It snarled back at him, jaws frothing, eyes baleful.
He remembered, now. Protect the pack. He pounced, jaws wide and claws bared.
* * *
All he knew was pain, pain and blood, as Remus’s body pulled itself back into it's human shape. He screamed, and Gaius’s blood ran down his gullet, rich and warm. It was in his teeth, under his tongue, it was everywhere, and Gaius’s body lay there, limp and pale, throat dark and glistening.
There was no time for shock. The moon was setting, and people were coming, and Remus wasn’t even fully human yet, but there was no time! He squeezed his eyes shut, gritted his teeth, and apparated.
*CRACK*
He landed flat on his face with a hard grunt. His ankle cracked sickeningly against a rock. He gasped, rolling into a ball, tears springing in his eyes as he vowed never to apparate right after a transformation ever again.
His whole foot throbbed, shooting all the way up his shin, making him feel giddy. He was still sticky with blood and without any clothes all he could do was curl up in pain on the grass. Was he even in Cornwall?! He couldn’t tell; where was the castle?!
“Fuck!” He sobbed, exhausted and defeated.
“Moony?!” A shout came up from over the side of the hill.
Remus rolled onto his back and closed his eyes, so relieved he thought he’d faint.
“Sirius!” He called back, as the heavy footsteps pounded closer.
And then he was there, and oh god Remus just about fell apart. Sirius threw his cloak over him and pulled him close and wrapped his arms around him. Remus clutched him back, trembling, the pain in his leg now threatening to overwhelm him.
“You came back!” Sirius gasped, voice shrill, “You came back!”
“Of course I did...” Remus said, woozily.
“Are you bleeding?!”
“Not my blood…” and then everything was going dark around the edges, and he was so exhausted he closed his eyes. And nothing more.