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Oblivious by Pallas

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16: By Moonlight

This couldn’t be happening.

It couldn’t.

Please let this not be happening.

But it was.

Diana’s sudden gasping sob rent his soul, his wife’s bright spirit suddenly shattered by the abduction of her darling son. Rey himself was frozen with desperate, disbelieving shock, staring blankly, mindlessly at the patch of tree-shrouded darkness that had enveloped the fleeing figures of Kane and his son as though at any moment they would reappear and declare the entire thing a joke.

But they didn’t.

They didn’t.

Abraham Kane was Abel Isaacs. He had accused his father of causing his sister’s death. He had killed Orestes Bevan and his family. And he had taken Remus.

Taken him to bite. Taken him to make a werewolf. Taken him to turn feral.

He was going to make his son a monster. And then use him to kill them.

No.

Something flared in Reynard Lupin, a sudden surge of fury, fear, rage and bloody-minded determination. This was not going to happen. He was not going to take their son. He was not going to ruin their family. There was no way in seven kinds of Hell that Abraham Kane was going to hurt his boy whilst he still had half a breath left in his body. How dare he drag an innocent child into this ridiculous feud? Whatever it took, that bastard would not destroy Remus, would not steal away his mind and ruin his life before it had even started. He was not going to let that feral turn the most important thing in his life into something repulsive. He was not going to win.

Whatever happened, bitten or not, Remus, his Remus, the sweet little boy who had been the centre of their lives for three years was going to come home. And he was going to be himself.

He would make sure of it.

He had not even realised he was moving until he noticed that his wand had been snatched from the kitchen table and slipped into his belt, that the cudgel that was occasionally necessary in his line of work had been lifted from the umbrella stand in the hallway and experimentally hefted in his hand. Moonrise was alarmingly close “ if he were to encounter Kane transformed, his wand would be no more use than a knitting needle. The cudgel was needed.

Kane would kill him. Of that much he was certain. To face the werewolf alone in those woods tonight would be suicidal. But he had meant what he had said to Kane in the lounge as he had stared into the terrified eyes of his hostage child; if he could save his son’s life by giving his own, he would do exactly that. All he had to do was buy time and keep Remus safe until reinforcements arrived.

Speaking of which…

His work cloak hung where he had left it that morning. Moving forward rapidly, Rey dragged it from the hook and rummaged in the inside pocket.

“You’re going after him.”

There was a kind of resigned emptiness to Diana’s voice, her words a statement rather than a question. There was no accusation, nor any encouragement, no trade off between husband and son. She understood the fate that was lurking in those dark trees at the slightest misstep, but at the same time it was her child that had been stolen. She stood, pale, bleeding slightly from the temple, a ragged stream of blood staining her cheek darkly against the flow of tears, staring at her husband with torn and distraught eyes.

“You’re not coming.” Rey bluntly rebutted the unspoken question. The blue disk that Moody had presented him with at dawn that very day fell into his hands from the folds of cloth “ pressing the disk from both sides, he tossed it to his wife. The pale blue pulse of its flashing glow lit her face a sickly shade of misery as she caught it deftly. Rey answered the query in her gaze.

“It’s a beacon Alastor Moody gave me in case of emergencies. If Kane hasn’t killed him too, he’ll be on his way.” Rey met his wife’s shell-shocked gaze. “I need you to stay and send him after me. I’ll need all the help I can get.”

Diana nodded slowly. “All right.”

She was in shock, that much was obvious. The son who was her world, her life and soul, was gone, her furious energy sapped by the futility of her efforts to protect him. Her husband was walking into probable death in a most likely equally futile attempt to bring him back. Her mind, unable to balance the love for her child and need for his rescue against the love for her husband and need to keep him safe, had given up trying and shut down her emotions in defeat.

Under any other circumstances, Rey would not have dreamed of leaving her alone. But this was an unavoidable exception.

He slung his cloak over his shoulders, wincing slightly as the material brushed across the still bleeding slash of Kane’s claws, brandished his cudgel and reached for the front door.

“Rey.”

He paused. He turned. Her eyes were bright with terror.

“Don’t die.” The words were a whisper. “I couldn’t… Not both of you. Don’t die.”

Rey forced back a surge of terror of his own. Was this the last time he would see his beloved wife?

“I’ll do my best,” he softly replied.

And then he turned and swept into the gathering darkness.

He thought he heard the distinctive crack of apparation on the lawn behind him as he plunged into the trees but he did not pause to turn and see. Even beneath the shadowed weight of the skeletal woodland canopy, the feral’s trail was easily spotted to an experienced tracker such as himself, broken twigs, scuffed leaves and twisted undergrowth pushed aside in his hasty passage a marker to his direction. Kane was not taking any care to hide his tracks. Either he did not expect pursuit or he simply had no fear of it.

The first would make him a fool. The second would make him a danger.

Rey suspected the latter. But he no longer cared.

Darkness was gathering, dusk pushed aside as the last gleam of sunset vanished behind the mountains. The trees were a looming presence all around him, dark, twisted limbs clinging to the tattered vestiges of their foliage, flexing against the whispered breeze that stirred the fallen leaves that clothed their roots. Ivy curled and crept its way up the bark of those trees taller, older, a sheath of green against the cold dark night and the waiting shadow of winter. Damp leaves, the bright and lively oranges and yellows of autumn leeched from their hue by the sinking of the sun, clung to his boots and crunched and slithered as he ran. A hint of silver light played across the branches.

He paid no heed to bramble or thicket; abandoning all pretence at stealth, he simply blasted them from his path. He could feel his breath screaming against his throat, the cold air scraping the soft skin before bursting back to freedom in mist; he ignored his breathlessness determinedly. His bruised ribs ached, his torn shoulder throbbed and his arm and back tickled with spots of pain that he suspected were caused by his fall into the glass. Steeling himself, he forced back the petty distraction of his injuries and plunged on, straining his ears for any hint that he might be closing upon his quarry.

And then, he heard the scream

A child’s scream.

Ice clamped his spine as his stomach plummeted.

Remus.

It had not been a scream of pain. That, at least was something. But it had been a scream of absolute fear. His little boy was terrified.

Silver seemed to flood the woods about him. The full moon gleamed as it slipped into the sky.

A wolf’s howl split the cold night air asunder.

The hair on the back of his neck stood on end with primeval terror. Oh Merlin.

Hesitating a moment, Rey sheathed his wand. It would be little help to him now.

The howl had been ahead, a few hundred yards perhaps up the slow rise of the wooded hill towards the hulking silhouette of the mountain above. Was it worth the risk?

Yes.

With a crack, Rey apparated.

Disorientation caused his head to swim “ he swivelled in a rapid circle in spite of his dizziness, cudgel braced and ready for attack, but there was no snap of jaws, no cry of daddy. He froze, listening desperately but heard nothing. Despair plunged his heart “ had he sacrificed a clear trail for nothing? But then, a torn thicket caught his eyes, a broken branch; scrambling forwards Rey stumbled into a tiny clearing. The leaf litter was scattered with scraps of bloodied cloth, recently ripped to shreds and flung from end to end by terrible force. This was where Kane had transformed.

There was no sign of Remus. Alive or dead.

He started to turn in search of an exit trail. The undergrowth behind him erupted.

Rey swivelled on his heel, cudgel raised, a cry of fury on his lips. He stifled the blow just in time.

A wand thrust into his nose. The scarred face of Alastor Moody stared at him wide eyed.

“Bloody Hell, Rey!” he swore violently, pulling his wand back.

Other faces appeared, Aurors, perhaps five or six that Rey knew by sight at least, if not by name. All looked, to various degrees, sickened, shocked and infuriated. How Moody had gathered so many so quickly was anybody’s guess but Rey was glad to see them nonetheless.

He had his reinforcements. There was no time to waste.

“This way!” he ordered sharply, ignoring Moody’s frown that exclaimed quite eloquently that he was on the verge of sending the exterminator back to his wife. But not this time, not when his son was involved; Rey would not allow himself to be expelled from the field of danger like a naughty schoolboy again. “The trail goes down here!”

Moody was at his side instantly as he hurtled once more into the silver-streaked woods. “Diana filled me in best she could,” he gasped breathlessly, his superior fitness no match for an adrenalin-pumped father in search of his boy. “Kane said he wasn’t planning to kill your lad, right?”

“What he wants to do is worse,” Rey snapped back. He was in no mood for looking at the limited positives of this awful situation.

Moody grimaced as he stumbled slightly on a patch of loose leaves before glancing at his companion with dark eyes of steel. “If it comes to a battle, you hang back. I won’t…”

“If you tell me to stay out of the fighting, I’m taking your head off Alastor! This is my son!

“Then you concentrate on your son!” The Auror barked back sharply. “Get the boy and get out! I will not see another family massacred today!”

Rey felt a hollow shiver. “Bevan…”

Moody shot him a surprised glance. “You know?”

“I know.” Rey’s jaw solidified grimly. “He took great pleasure in telling me.”

“I was on the scene.” Moody had finally settled into a solid rhythm of running, his voice shaking with both exertion and emotion. “When the beacon went off.” He gestured over his shoulder at the gaggle of Aurors on their tail. “I grabbed every man there and sent them down the floo whilst I apparated. I thought for a minute… Two friends in one night…Two young families…” He gulped down a breath and continued. “We saw what he did at Bevan’s, all of us. Every man here wants him dead. No more kids. We won’t let him.”

Rey nodded grimly. No more kids, he echoed silently. Especially not mine.

But a moment later, he knew that he was already too late.

Another scream ripped through the peace of the night, barely eighty yards ahead.

This time the scream was of agony.

No! Remus!

Outstripping Moody in seconds, ignoring his restraining cry, Rey thrust ahead and burst onto a scene taken straight out of his greatest nightmares.

An enormous bristling silver wolf stood braced in a moon-washed centre of a small glade. A limp little figure dangled face down, blood-soaked and motionless in its jaws.

Golden eyes snapped up. With a flex of its mouth, the clamp of teeth released, dropping its minute burden into a bloodied heap at its feet. There was no sign of movement.

A low growl vibrated in the air.

Rey did not hear it. He did not care.

The world had ceased to exist, banished into insignificance by the enormity of emotions rampaging through his mind as he stared, unable to look away from the bloodstained little body slumped pale and deathly still on the cold, hard earth. Shock, anger, horror, misery, fury, disbelief and rage mingled together around the edges of the overwhelming void that had hollowed out in an empty space in his soul where his son should have been.

Kane had lied. He had killed Remus after all.

He had killed Remus.

Remus was dead.

That couldn’t be right. It couldn’t. The world could not keep turning if those words were true.

A second growl spun upon the breeze. With narrowed eyes, the werewolf had dropped to a crouch, poised to spring upon the stunned and grieving father standing statuesque and motionless before him.

The growl shuddered in Rey’s ears. It shivered down his spine, shaking his body and igniting a sudden flame in the turbulent hollow of his grief. Fire exploded in the volatile cocktail of emotions, burning his body from top to toe as red mist flared in his eyes.

Kane had killed Remus.

Kane had killed Remus.

Kane had killed Remus.

He had to suffer. He had to die.

Oblivious to anything and everything but the growling silver werewolf and the body of his son, Rey screamed in desperate rage and charged like a berserker.

He did not hear Moody’s frantic cry. He did not see the flicker of surprise in the over-intelligent eyes of the feral werewolf. He was aware only of one thing; his overwhelming need to cause the werewolf pain.

The strength of bereaved fury surged through his body with almost superhuman results. The first blow struck square between the gleaming eyes, half-knocking the wolf from its feet as it stumbled back to dodge this fearless, mindless, cudgel-wielding apparition of absolute and breath-taking rage. The second swept with crushing force into the side of its head, staggering it sideways before it could recover. The third smashed against a forelimb, drawing blood from a half-crushed paw as it tried to turn away. The fourth battered its exposed side and knocked it finally to the ground. And then, grasping the cudgel powerfully in both hands, he raised over his head to deliver the fifth and final skull-crushing blow to his sudden stricken foe.

It never landed.

For then Remus screamed.

The sound echoed through the trees with horrifying clarity, the moments before motionless figure of his little boy suddenly twisting and writhing on the floor, his tiny fingers scraping at the earth as he buried his face against the leaf litter, shrieking and screaming and sobbing in the unmistakable throes of extreme agony. Blood stained the ground where he lay in alarming quantities.

Rey stared for an instant, his world righting itself with an abruptness that made him sway with a mixture of dizzy relief and desperate horror.

Kane had not killed Remus.

Remus was alive.

Remus was in pain.

Remus had been bitten.

Remus was a werewolf.

And he was too young. Kane’s plan had worked. Oh dear Gods, no….

The cudgel froze and wavered. Kane did not.

A moment later Rey had an agony of his own worry about. The werewolf’s claws sunk into his left thigh to depth of bone and dragged downwards the length of his leg.

Unbelievable pain pierced him “ the cudgel slipped from his fingers in numb shock as he tumbled to the floor with a thump and a cry. For a terrible instant, his eyes met gold as Kane lunged viciously towards his exposed throat.

They had forgotten Moody and his Aurors. The fallen cudgel leapt to life as a spell caught it, swinging it untouched to wallop into the werewolf’s charging jaws. A Reductor curse blasted a hole in the earth mere inches from the werewolf’s side “ all at once, the loose rocks freed by the explosion were lifted and flung in a hail of stones at the still reeling Kane. For a moment it seemed his full moon rage would overcome the remnants of his human intelligence, for he bared his teeth and half started back at his assailants. But another flurry of debris convinced him otherwise “ for a moment longer he lingered, his golden eyes fixing upon the writhing little boy with a vague hint of satisfaction. But then with a final defiant snap of his jaws, he turned tail and fled into the darkness.

“That’s RIGHT!” The furious roar belonged to Alastor Moody. “Run, you bastard! But don’t think you’ll get away! Every Auror in this country will want you dead! You won’t live the week, Kane! And when we’re done, death will be a MERCY!!!!”

Rey was not listening. His entire consciousness was focus on the thrashing little form a few yards to his right. Ignoring the searing, agonising pain in his left leg, he dragged his screeching body half upright and crawled across the battered earth to his son.

Even in the darkness, he could see that Remus was unnaturally pale. His hands were filthy and bleeding as he scratched at the earth in desperate pain, his clothing torn to shreds, the skin beneath a tattered mess. His small face was screwed up in unbearable agony, cheeks wet with what tears he had not already cried that dreadful night, his voice already hoarse from his pain’s vocalisation. His eyes were tightly closed.

Ignoring the shouting forms of the Aurors as they gathered themselves and then rushed in pursuit of the fleeing werewolf, Rey stretched out as he dragged himself across the final yard to clutch his son’s shoulder. Anxiously, frantically, he called out Remus’ name, hauling himself finally to his side as he grasped the shaking little form and tried to still his convulsions. He was still bleeding far too strongly, shivering with shock and cold “ Rey quickly pulled his own cloak from his shoulders and tucked it warmly around the little boy, pulling himself painfully into a sitting position as he lifted his child from the earth and wrapped him in his embrace, pressing the shuddering little head against his cheek as he cradled him. For a moment, Remus’ eyes flickered open, but his gaze was absent, blank, and filled with pain “ Rey had no way of knowing if his son had even realised in whose arms he was being held. He prayed that the slight tint of gold around the edges of his eyes was only in his nightmarish imagination.

“It’s all right,” he whispered the words in spite of the fact that they had never been less true. “It’s going to be all right, son. I love you, your mother loves you and nothing or no one is going to change that. I’m so sorry I failed you, I’m so sorry I couldn’t keep you safe. If I could change places with you now, I would, without a hesitation. But I can’t change places and I can’t turn back time and untangle this stupid mess and make it better. But we’ll look after you. We’ll do anything and everything we can for you. Just stay with us. I love you.” He pressed a soft kiss to the tousled head. “You’re a good lad, a strong lad. Please, for God’s sake, don’t let it win.”

But something was wrong. The nature of his son’s contortions had shifted “ suddenly they were not convulsions of pain but the thrashings of anger. Remus twisted and writhed in his grasp, his little fists flailing and battering his father’s chest with a great deal more force than Rey knew his son could have usually mustered, his fingernail scratches even drawing blood from his neck. This time when his son’s eyes flashed open, he knew the golden highlights had not been imaginary.

Oh no. Oh God, no! Not my son

There would be, could be no transformation this night “ the body needed time to adapt, for the infection was too new, too unsettled, to drive the newly bitten werewolf into the dreaded change yet. But the full moon was rising in the sky above, flooding the glade with silver moonlight, and the wolfish mind at least could feel its call; it would see no need to wait for his body to catch up. And once it was entrenched in a mind so young, so vulnerable…

There had to be something he could do to stop it. There had to be.

Footsteps intruded on his train of thought “ a hand upon his shoulder made him start. He glanced up sharply into the dark, sympathetic eyes of Alastor Moody.

He was not alone. Another Auror, who Rey had a feeling was called Castleton, was supporting him heavily, whilst trying to ignore the wash of blood trickling down his forehead. A wad of rag was pressed to a gash in Alastor’s side.

“Caught us both a wallop as well,” Moody commented wryly, although his eyes were drifting to the now aggressive little form clamped in the exterminator’s arms. “The others are still chasing and I’ve called for backup. Hopefully we’ll get him when he has to stop at moonset.”

Rey nodded blankly. Dizziness was threatening to wash over him as his leg throbbed piercingly but adrenalin forced it back. His son needed him.

The stares of both Aurors had fixed upon Remus.

“He’s turned, hasn’t he?” It was Castleton who spoke, bluntly and with a hint of distaste. He was fingering his wand. “Look Lupin, I know it wouldn’t be fair to expect you do it. Just lay the lad down and I’ll make it quick…”

His voice tailed off under the ice filled glare that pierced him, freezing the remains of the sentence on his lips.

What?

Castleton almost visibly squirmed. He glanced at Moody almost appealingly. “The boy’s gone feral. Surely a quick, humane dispatch now would be better for everyone…”

“Castleton, shut up.” Moody could see the dangerous look on Reynard’s face, the look of a man who had not only reached the end of his tether, but lost the tether entirely some time ago. He knew without a doubt that if the exterminator had not had his hands full with his precious burden, he would have already throttled the younger Auror to death a good ten seconds before. Privately, Moody could not avoid a lingering sense that Castleton was right “ but he knew as well just how much Remus meant to Rey and Diana. There was no way on earth that Reynard Lupin would be let his son die or be lost without a fight.

Uncomfortably, he pulled himself free of Castleton’s support.

“Apparate back to Winter Hollow,” he ordered the younger man sharply. “Get Mrs Lupin and escort her down the floo to St Mungo’s. We’ll meet you there.”

Castleton gaped. “You’re taking it to St Mungo’s? But…”

Now.” Moody cut the man off before he engraved his name any deeper on Rey Lupin’s hit list. For a moment it seemed that Castleton intended to argue the point further but twin stares of deathly threat convinced him that departure would not be a bad idea. With a crack, he disapparated.

Rey tightened his grip on his still writhing son defensively as he met Alastor’s gaze. With a wince of pain, the Auror bent and retrieved the battered cudgel.

“Here,” he said softly, extending the weapon before him as he dropped uncomfortably to his knees beside father and son. “Grab onto this and make sure the boy does to. We’ll have twenty seconds.”

With his free hand, he tapped his wand against the wood. “Portus.”

Grasping one of Remus’ tiny hands in his own, Rey pressed it firmly against the newly made Portkey, clasping his still screaming son as tightly as he could.

Castleton’s harsh words still rang painfully, infuriatingly in his ears. How dare he, how dare he stand there all self-righteous and talk about putting his son down like an animal! Fiery determination flooded his body from head to toe. He was not going to give them the satisfaction. He was not going to give Kane such a victory. He was not going to lose the son he loved so much.

“I won’t let it happen, Remus.” The words were a whisper against his son’s ear, born of a pain far stronger than the one that seared his leg. “I won’t let that wolf take you away, either of them. You’re going to come back to me and I’m going to raise you to be the person that you should be, that you will be. You’re going to be happy, you’re going to be good and above all else you’re going to be human. I won’t let anyone take that away from you. You will be everything that Kane is not, I promise you. He won’t destroy you and he won’t destroy our family. We won’t let him ruin this. We won’t let him win. You’ll still be Remus Lupin. You’ll still be my son. And you’re going to stay that way.”

Moody’s eyes were fixed on Rey, his gaze an indecipherable mix of sympathy, anxiety and hopelessness. “Here it comes, Rey. Three, two, one…”

A moment later the glade contained nothing but moonlight.