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Oblivious by Pallas

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20: The Howling Once More

The noise in The Howling was, as always, unbelievable. It amazed Remus that it had not long ago ruptured the eardrums of every person in the room.

Well that’s one more way to spot a werewolf in human form I suppose “ pale, scarred and slightly deaf.

Little had changed in the three months since his last visit to this squalid basement club in Camden. The “music” was indistinguishable from before, although whether that was because it was the same or that he simply could not distinguish one set of screeching from another was debatable. Figures bounded and twisted their way around the dance-floor, pausing occasionally to lurch and slump against the bar or slouch at a wall hugging table to clutch at a companion and… Dear Gods, didn’t they ever stop? Surely they could take that home

Remus shook himself. He was not going to let himself be distracted by loose morals and even looser clothing. He was here for a reason.

Kane.

He knew he had been back here since that week before the August full moon. He had admitted as much. But had it simply been a flying visit to discover more about Remus or was it because he was a regular?

He had waited a frustrating week to come and find out. Poppy had kept him confined to the Hospital wing for a further three days, absolutely insistent that he needed to rest and recover far more than his body seemed to agree with. His father had lingered a day more, borrowing his son’s chambers in the staff wing for the night, before reluctantly departing the following evening with a warm hug and a firmly elicited promise that his son would appear, without fail, at Winter Hollow come Christmas and that a great deal more in the way of letters would be forthcoming in the future. Remus knew that were it not for the necessity of feeding his menagerie, Reynard would have gladly stayed longer and for the first time in his life, he found himself rather resenting his father’s hobby. In spite of the weight of that weekend’s revelations, he was not sure that he and his father had ever felt so close.

Having finally escaped the tender mercies of the School Matron on Wednesday afternoon, he had passed a quiet evening in his chambers before resuming the teaching of his classes on Thursday. His return had been to the rather gratifying relief of his pupils, who offered a string of complaints about a variety of substitutes in one breath “ Severus Snape being most notable offender, much as he’d expected “ before expounding on their concern for him in the next. He had hastily reassured them all that in spite of the unfortunately vivid mass of scar tissue settling in streaks around his neck, he was perfectly fine and that he most certainly looked a great deal worse than he felt. And indeed, apart from a certain soreness and a touch of additional hoarseness to his voice by the end of the day, it was much the truth.

Harder to hide had been his general air of distraction. But he felt he had succeeded quite admirably and even if he had not, having one’s throat torn out seemed reason enough to be a little out of sorts. Nobody had questioned him.

Getting away from Hogwarts when the weekend came had not been difficult “ the Gryffindor “ Slytherin Quidditch match had proved a magnificent distraction and a few words to Albus about collecting forgotten things from Grimmauld Place and nipping to Diagon Alley for a book had seen the headmaster wave him on his way with guilt-tugging ease. And so he had slipped out late that morning amidst the chattering crowds bedecked in scarlet, gold and emerald as they hurried towards the Quidditch pitch, strolled quickly away to the gates and apparated.

Grimmauld Place had fortunately proved deserted. A reluctant rummage upstairs had led to the uncovering of his old Howling disguise and an even more reluctant donning of it. A bottle of dark hair dye discovered in the bathroom that he suspected might belong to Hestia Jones added a little something more to his cover “ if trouble did break loose that evening, the last thing he needed was to have his description recognised at the Ministry. His position at Hogwarts was far from secure and Dawlish, he knew, was suspicious of him; according to Kingsley, the Auror had been investigating his background on the quiet. To be caught or identified by the Ministry in The Howling would be more than his life was worth.

Hair dye and a leather coat weren’t much of a buffer against recognition and exposure, but in the gloom of The Howling it would just have to do.

A more careful exploration of Moody’s coded files exposed the Order’s pilfered copy of Abraham Kane’s record, hidden away with other restricted documents in a concealed cupboard known only to a well-trusted few by means of a small and private Fidelius charm. Moody, ever paranoid, had even enchanted the papers to combust on opening without the passing of a complicated set of code words and identification spells, but Remus was fortunately privy to them and gained the file after a time-consuming half-hour proving to the old Auror’s system that he was allowed to be looking. There was no point in going in unprepared.

It had made grimly fascinating reading. There was little to be found that he had not learned from his father, other than the more specific details of Kane’s prior exploits with Hel; two names in particular caught his eye and he resolved to speak with his father about them later. The file also included a series of unpleasant photographs of his victims, including the Bevans and one of his freshly scarred three year old self in hospital, that he decided to skip for the sake the holding down his lunch. But it helped to remind him just why it was that he had come to London this weekend, still sore and battered from his last encounter and against the unspoken wishes of his father, Albus Dumbledore, Alastor Moody and indeed pretty much everyone who cared about him in order to hunt down the feral that had made him a werewolf in the first place.

Enough was enough. Kane had to be stopped.

And so, pulling up the collar of Sirius’ old leather jacket as far as he could to conceal his damaged neck, he had left the ancestral home of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black with the fall of night and apparated to Camden and The Howling.

Thus far there had been no sign of Kane. Remus was unsure if he was glad or sorry.

Weaving his way carefully through the cavorting crowds, he managed to find his way to the bar where grizzled, toothless Friedrek bustled back and forth as he plied his breathless, thirsty clientele with drinks. He shot a glance at Remus as he settled on a stool and signalled for attention.

“You ain’t been in for a while,” the barman commented as he rested his arms on the counter in front of his customer. At Remus’ slight flicker of concerned surprise at being so well remembered, Friedrek grinned and tapped his nose.

“Never forget a face, me,” he said gregariously. “Even if the hair colour changes. Besides, had a fellow asking about you a month or two back. Makes people stick in the mind, does being asked about them.”

Kane. On impulse, Remus snatched at the given opening and prayed Kane had said nothing about why he was looking. “Oh, that would be my cousin,” he said casually, resting his chin against the heel of his hand as he leaned his elbow easily against the bar and smiled. “It’s the worst of luck, we keep missing each other. I came in tonight hoping he’d be around. I don’t suppose you’ve seen him lately?”

No flicker of suspicion passed over Friedrek’s face “ the truthful bluff, it seemed, had paid off. “Medium sized chap, tough looking? Fifties maybe? Dark curly hair, wears yellow contacts?”

Contacts? Ah. So Friedrek was unaware that he had a real feral frequenting his bar. That was interesting and said a great deal about the difference between the intent and the reality of The Howling’s aims.

Remus nodded. “That’s him. Has he been in at all?”

Friedrek smiled toothlessly. “Drops by a couple of times a week, that one. A bit of a regular, likes to chat with the younger ones, gives them advice. He’s got quite a band of followers around here.”

Remus fought back a sudden chill that ran the length of his spine. Oh Merlin. Kane was recruiting.

He swallowed his disconcertion firmly in order to maintain his visage of casual inquiry. “That sounds about right. When did you last see him?”

Friedrek sniffed as he scooped up a collection of empty glasses from the bar and shuffled in the direction of a nearby sink. “He was last in a couple of days ago “ Wednesday maybe. But he comes by a fair amount, chatting, asking questions, getting to know the area. He says he likes the ambience.”

Recruiting and gathering intelligence using the gullible, desperate patrons of The Howling. Kane was a clever bastard, Remus gave him that. Was he working on Voldemort’s behalf as he played on the fears of his fellow werewolves or was he simply doing it for his own perverse enjoyment? It was hard to say. But the reason did not excuse the deed.

Friedrek had moved away to serve a panting young man and Remus took the opportunity to curse under his breath. He had not intended to confess this outing to his Order colleagues unless he had been successful in his attempt to catch Kane. But this was vital new intelligence about Kane’s activities. He had no choice but to admit his elicit search and face the inevitable music.

And if the music in The Howling was bad, the music of his angry friends would be a great deal worse. Albus and Alastor were going to throw fits about this.

Biting his lip with frustration, Remus slipped off his stool and edged his way back towards the exit. But against the backdrop of towering, thwarted irritation, a nagging little voice whispered that this was probably the best thing. This lone expedition had been born of icy fury not the common sense for which he was usually so renowned and this way he could recruit backup for a more foolproof operation that was far more likely to see Kane Azkaban or grave-ward bound than his own anger-fuelled intentions. There was no way that Albus or Alastor or the others could leave him out of any plan “ if it involved The Howling after all, he was their only way inside. No, this was for the best.

So why did he feel disappointment much akin to a blow to the stomach?

Because this was personal. It was his family Kane had hurt, his life he had tried to ruin, his mother he had killed. Getting the Order involved somehow felt like interference in his private matters. If he hadn’t have known better, he would have almost found himself considering revenge…

But that was ridiculous. As long as Kane was punished, what did it matter how he got there? This matter was not simply about him “ Kane’s alliance with Voldemort and mission against Harry made it very much Order business. And since when was revenge in his character? He had never sought revenge on anyone before, at least not on his own behalf “ he shuddered briefly at the echo of the night in Shrieking Shack that crossed his mind, of Wormtail’s shrill and grating pleas for mercy that had almost driven him to places he had not realised he could go. Once perhaps, then. But the circumstances had been exceptional. Peter had betrayed Lily and James to the most evil force in existence.

And Kane had bitten him. He had crippled his father. And he had probably killed his mother.

That was pretty exceptional.

Dear Gods. What was Kane doing to him?

Remus sighed. He needed to get out of here.

He reached for the door and closed his hand upon the handle.

And froze at the rush of ice that slithered down his back, at the sudden pounding of his heartbeat, the shiver that coursed through his limbs and the sharp stabbing pain that traced the long ago puncture of wolfish teeth. He knew the feeling instantly.

Kane.

Kane was here.

Indecision raged through his mind. He was here. Somewhere nearby, right here, right now. Somewhere in the heaving crowds of The Howling, the feral was lurking. This could be his big chance, if he could just catch him by surprise…

But how could it be surprise? If he could feel Kane, that surely meant Kane could feel him…

He was in danger. Kane would come looking “ undoubtedly already was. The wisest move would be to get out, get backup and get back as fast as he could. Personal was not worth getting killed over.

He swept a last reluctant gaze around the room. But the feral was nowhere in sight. With a grimace of frustration, Remus reached out and yanked open the door.

And came face to face with Abraham Kane.

It was hard to tell who was the most surprised. But in terms of recovery from the shock, it was, unfortunately for Remus, no contest.

This time he did not even have time to reach for his wand. Kane’s fast blow sent him flying through the air, sprawling backwards onto the dance floor, scattering the shocked dancers like frightened birds as the darted out of his flight-path. The wooden planking jarred against him with unpleasant force, sending shockwaves of pain up his shoulder and hip. He scrambled to regain his footing and his lost momentum, one hand diving into his coat for his wand but a spread of claws thrust less than an inch from his face stayed his movements instantly. Once more he found himself gazing down the wrong end of Kane’s natural weapons.

“Hands away,” he ordered coldly. “Where I can see them.”

Remus hesitated, still on his knees. His wand was so close. One quick grab

The backhand blow flung him back against the floor to the gasps of their stunned audience. He sniffed and coughed as a trickle of blood escaped his nose and dripped onto the planking as he pulled himself painfully off the ground.

Kane’s voice echoed like ice from above. “Next time, do as you’re told.”

“Hey now see here!” Friedrek the barman had emerged from behind the counter, one hand grasped firmly and defensively around a sturdy iron bar as he strode bandy-legged towards the trouble. “A place of freedom this may be, but rules are rules! I won’t have no fighting here…”

Kane extended a claw hand sharply in Friedrek’s direction “ the stocky barman’s eyes widened to saucer sized as he realised just what he was facing and stumbled rapidly back out of range. Kane’s expression was cold and threatening as he pinned the barman against the counter with nothing but his eyes.

“This is family business, old man. You and the rest of this mangy rabble can stay out of it or face the consequences.”

The mangy rabble did not appear to have any intention of getting involved. Those nearest the door had fled already. The rest, facing the realisation of the very desire they claimed to have come here to indulge, shrank back with sudden fear.

Now they see the truth of embracing the wolf. Maybe they’ll learn a lesson from this. There’s nothing more dangerous than getting what you want.

Remus half-pulled himself up only to find himself facing the sharp end of Kane’s handful of claws yet again. The feral’s golden eyes gleamed as they fixed upon the partly exposed scars that shrieked raw on the neck of his half-prostrate cousin and erstwhile victim.

“Oh dear,” he drawled with a smirk against the sudden, shocking and absolute silence that had fallen over The Howling. Even the music had stopped. “Did I make a mess of you, boy?”

Don’t panic. Don’t show you’re afraid.

Remus returned the glare inch for inch, his eyes narrowed coldly as he beheld the man who had savaged him in childhood and gifted him with monthly torture.

“It’s not as though it’s the first time,” he retorted softly. “Is it Abel?”

For a moment, fury flashed in Kane’s eyes at the mention of his hated birth name “ Remus was certain for an instant that his face would be torn apart for his impertinence. But the surge of rage ebbed abruptly and suddenly a slow smile crept across Kane’s features.

“Well, well,” he murmured. “Has daddy finally confessed all?”

Remus risked straightening himself as he pulled his body into a sitting position; around him he could see a cluster of wide eyes and shocked faces as they beheld the true face of the waiting wolf. “He told me what happened. What you did to me and wanted to do.”

The feral snorted. “Or his version of it I’m sure.”

Remus’ lip twisted. “I’m more inclined to believe him than you.”

Kane chuckled as he ran his tongue across his sharpened teeth. “Of course you are. Do what daddy tells you. It must be a genetic weakness in your little line.”

Remus raised an eyebrow incredulously. “You bit me as a child, you attacked my family and you all but tore out my throat last weekend. Forgive me for doubting your credibility.”

To his astonishment, Kane actually laughed. “You know, I could almost get to like you. You’ve got more spirit than that pathetic father of yours. It’s a shame he had to develop a backbone in time to snatch you from my evil clutches. We would have worked well together, you and I. A pack to strike terror into the hearts of men.”

He paused suddenly, thoughtfully and fixed Remus eerily with his wild stare. “That offer is still open, you know. In spite of what your parents named you, you needn’t be a victim all your life. No more weakness. No more pretence. No more watching your body age too fast and waste away in a fruitless battle to hold back the inevitable. Be strong. Taste the power. Become who you really are.”

The tail of his words echoed against the silence, shivering over the sea of faces that ringed the dance floor. They were words that The Howling supposedly embodied. But they sounded very different in the mouth of a man with golden eyes and claws sprouting from his fingers.

Remus held his gaze with cold determination. “I am who I really am,” he whispered, but his voice was lined with steel. “And I intend to stay that way.”

Kane gave a half-shrug. “Then you’re a fool.”

Remus pulled himself up into a half-kneel as he maintained his stare. “I’d sooner be a fool than a murderer.”

Kane’s smirk returned with a vengeance as he flexed his fingers comfortably in front of his cousin’s face. “Is that word supposed to bother me?”

Remus fought down a flare of fury. “It bothers most people.”

The feral gave a dry chuckle. “Most people are, I’m sure you’ll agree, idiots. Besides, I’m not a murderer. I’m a predator. There’s a difference.”

“Yes there is a difference.” Remus held the cold gaze, shivering unseen at the depths of madness and vicious insanity that lay within his wolfish glare. “Predators hunt and kill for food or territory. You kill for fun and because you can. You kill to hurt. That is called being a murderer.”

Kane cocked his head, wolf-like, for a moment as he regarded the younger man knelt before him. Something unpleasant and calculating glinted in his eyes.

“He told you.” The words were a gravelled hush, lips curled slightly in amusement. “About my Parisian encounter with darling mother.”

It’s true. Ice and fire mingled painfully to shoot in waves through his stomach and mind at the thought of his mother’s last moments, facing this monstrous apparition that had tried to rip her family apart and had now come for her life. She must have been terrified.

The thought filled him with horror, but that horror burned along its edges with a fury, a fury that threatened to ignite within him with catastrophic force. He remembered his mother’s smile, her laugh, her silly jokes, her spontaneous affection and frequent fussing over his health. And this thing before him had taken that away for no other reason but spite.

He had never felt an anger like it, volcano-hot and bubbling against the pressure with which he desperately kept it contained. It was all he could do not to explode with the force.

And Kane was smiling.

“I have to admit I misjudged your father.” The smile was burning like a match over the fuse of Remus’ anger. “I never thought he’d tell you about that. Did he tell you he tried to hunt me down? A weak old man stumbling along, unable to walk without a cane to guide him and he came after me. And I knew he would. I saw him many times in those weeks he came looking “ I kept a careful eye open. My first thought was simply to kill him and put an end to it.” The ignition smile spread to a grin, burning white hot. “But then I realised that that was what he wanted. That was the easy way out. His suffering was so much fun to watch, I felt it better to let it continue than provide the release of death. I let him live and revelled in his pain.”

The fuse was burning. And Remus was losing the will to try and snuff it out.

“I always regretted I couldn’t give dear Diana a better send off.” Kane was musing thoughtfully but his nasty smile was unconcealed. “I would have gladly done so if we hadn’t been interrupted.”

He paused for a moment, drinking in the contorted fury of his cousin’s face as he struggled to hold back his uncharacteristic burst of temper. “The look on her face “ I treasure it. Such fear, such loathing, such terror “glorious. I had planned to draw it out rather more than I was able to, make it a death more worthy, more what I originally intended “ a fine mess like I left of the Bevans. But alas there was a knock at the door and of course she had to be brave and start shouting so in the end I had to settle for a quick shove out the window and a leap across to the balcony and away. I suppose it was my luck that it was dark and the maid did not speak good enough English to hear her incriminate me with her shouts. But I took a moment, just a moment, to watch her fall, to watch the way she crumpled when she hit the ground, the way the blood spread. Such sweet moments should be savoured, wouldn’t you say?”

Mum.

He wanted Kane dead. In pieces. Scattered on the floor. Preferably over as wide a radius as possible.

The image was all consuming. The need to make it a reality was all but overwhelming him.

Pain. He needed Kane to be in pain. His fingertips itched at the thought of it.

And then the feral leant forwards, lips curled back in a vicious smile, eyes alight with vindictive pleasure. “And then I took a moment more. She was alive, you see, when she first landed. And so I came to the ground to wait in the shadows and then, so slowly, do you know what happened?” His eyes gleamed with sheer maliciousness. “I stood and watched her die.”

Ignition.

Remus exploded forwards, driven by the force of a rage unlike any he had ever known, a fury that set fire to his heart and mind and rippled through his very bones. All thoughts of restraint, of control, of magic, of anything other than ripping the feral apart with his bare hands were abandoned as he swatted Kane’s outstretched claws aside and slammed into the gloating face, thrusting him backwards to hurl him flat against the nearby wall with no thought in his mind other than to pummel him until he had no blood left to bleed with. His eyes burned as he drew his hand back to strike.

And stopped, with a sudden rush of dousing cold as he realised that Kane was still smiling.

“Now that’s more like it.” Kane’s voice was a low drawl, malicious and satisfied. “I knew you had it in you.”

Horror flooded over the anger, forcing it away with the sheer chill of shock. Dear Gods, what was he doing? He’d allowed himself to be overwhelmed by an anger he had not known he had possessed. But now he knew; the source of anger he’d tapped into did not belong to him at all.

It was the wolf.

And Kane knew it.

He’d been manipulated. And it hadn’t taken much.

Oh Merlin. Was he really that easy to turn?

With speed akin to an electric shock, he snapped his hands away from Abraham Kane and stumbled back. Kane laughed, still leaning against the wall that he had been slammed against moments before as he brushed the front of his tunic with lazy ease. His golden eyes never wavered from the shocked and horrified face of his younger cousin.

“Welcome to my world,” he said softly. “I think you’ll like it.”

Remus collided painfully with a table, too caught up in his frantic unseeing retreat from the feral’s smile. With a thud, he tumbled to the ground.

Slumped on the floor, stunned, he thought for a moment that he had imagined the sudden crash of the door as it was flung violently open, the horrified cries that rose into a sudden crescendo, the stampede of feet. But then a sharp voice penetrated his consciousness, echoing across the chamber and announcing emphatically that the only thing that could have made his evening any worse had just happened.

“Nobody move! This is a Ministry raid! Get away from the walls and keep your hands where we can see them!”