A/N: This chapter was originally the preliminary to what is now chapter 29, which I was convinced was going to be too short and hence padded here. But 29 got well out of hand, as did this preliminary. So now, it’s a chapter in itself. :)
28: Liber Emitto
Confusingly, reluctantly, the world reeled back into a rather different kind of focus.
Remus staggered, struggling to come to grips with fur and muzzle, four legs and a tail, horizontal instead of vertical, the ways and means of manipulating this familiar yet unfamiliar body. The impact of a very different array of senses assailed him, the world around rewritten anew from a wolfish perspective, a flood of smell that dominated the input of sight and sound with disconcerting fervour.
Such simple things as movement, as perception of his surrounds would have come naturally to the mind of the wolf. They did not come naturally to Remus.
This was the great flaw of using Wolfsbane. The persistent human mind did not inherit the instinct of its wolfish counterpart upon being thrust into control of a four- legged shape. Everything about inhabiting the form of a werewolf had to be learned from scratch.
It had never been an issue before. It did not take a great deal of practice to learn how to curl a body in front of a fire and fall asleep.
But now…
There was no time to ponder it. That he had never taken much time to master full moon ways could not be altered now. He would just have to learn as he went and hope for the best.
Shaking himself uncomfortably, Remus scrambled awkwardly to his feet and started forward.
He fell over.
Four legs. Four legs! Concentrate!
Bloody hell. Kane was going to tear him to pieces…
But at least it would distract him from killing the kids.
His frown of concentration translated itself to a growl. With a surge of stubborn determination, Remus hauled himself onto all four paws and launched himself down the corridor.
The air reeked. The scent was pervasive, invasive, overwhelming but achingly familiar, setting off sparks against emotions that he didn’t understand. It drifted, strengthening as he found his gait at last, hit his stride and hurled himself through passageways and down shifting stairs towards the Great Hall. He still felt ridiculously weak but given the effort of his recent transformation combined with his aconite overdose, this was hardly a surprise. Pulling on reserves of strength he had not even realised were present, coasting on adrenalin, he increased his speed still further and raced his way through the deserted school.
The smell was even stronger now, tangling through his senses like bittersweet yearning, repulsively addictive. In the distance, there was screaming.
The children. Alone but for…
Gods, Severus, you’d better be protecting them…
Severus. And the scent.
A flash of memory barely his own surged across his mind, drawn from wolfish moments witnessed passively but barely understood until now.
A dark tunnel, shadowed and cold, a pallid, sallow face framed with stringy black hair gaping as another dark haired figure with glass for eyes dragged him backwards. And everywhere, burning, shivering, terrible and glorious, the bittersweet, delicious smell of…
It was then that he realised.
The scent was fear.
The children were terrified. And the smell of that terror permeated the castle from turret to basement.
Oh Merlin no…
Screams rose in a powerful crescendo ahead as his footing finally faltered. The entrance hall opened before him as he tumbled his way down the last few steps, snarling with irritation as he dragged himself upright once more, his now golden eyes fixing at once upon the vast double doors that gave passage to the Great Hall of Hogwarts. They were closed.
And more than closed. He could smell the magic on them. Sealed and warded, the locks reeked of bitterness, cynicism, precision and pride. This was more than a simple colloportus; this was a spell that could only be released by the wand that cast it. And he knew the scent of Severus Snape anywhere.
Remus felt the growl rise in his throat in response to his surge of frustration. He could understand why firmly sealing the locks had seemed a good precaution with Death Eaters on the loose. But why, with the danger within, hadn’t Severus released the doors and given the children room to run? Why couldn’t he now get inside?
The screams were terrible. They tore at his mind.
Fury bubbled as his hackles rose. Let me in! How can I help if I can’t get in?
He wanted to scream. Didn’t Severus know anything? It was elementary! Never trap yourself in without a way to escape…
Escape… Guarding the retreat…
Another memory, this time human rose within his mind.
Guarding their retreat, they called it, ensuring their escape “ with the Marauder’s map now confiscated, good old guard duty was back in fashion. Crouching beneath the invisibility cloak in the shadows of the entrance hall, he watched as Wormtail the rat darted back and forth down the corridors in search of possible danger; behind him, James and Sirius laughed quietly between themselves, arms heaped with fireworks as Padfoot pressed one hand awkwardly to an engraved panel and grinned as it slid back…
The gargoyle passage. Straight into the Great Hall. Of course…
Grinding his considerably sharper teeth, Remus hurtled across the entrance hall to a section of engraved wooden panelling that hung, innocent and still between two broad tapestries. With a half-leap, he pressed into a section of panel with his nose.
With a creak, the wood slid back. A dark, musty cobweb strewn hole opened out before him, curving left and slightly upwards. Shaking himself, Remus started to pull himself forwards.
“Another one? Shoo! Begone, foul beast from Hell!”
A pearly flash of fury dashed across his vision as Nearly Headless Nick, his loose head wobbling dangerously surged in front of him, waving his hands in a threatening if entirely ineffectual manner.
Remus stared at the gesticulating ghost impatiently. The muffled screams echoed and ripped against his mind. I don’t have time for this…
Bracing himself, he pushed forward and surged through the chill shiver of the ghost’s insubstantial form, moving quickly into the passage beyond. Ignoring the protests that flurried from behind, the flashes of white as Nick hurtled in pursuit, he shouldered his way through the net like strands of cobweb, trying to ignore the uncomfortable twists as they tangled across his fur and muzzle and settled over him in sticky veils. Honestly, had acromantulas been living in this tunnel to make such hard work of it?
It was no use; he could barely open his jaws to breathe. Pausing a moment beside the entrance to the musty chute that gave hidden access to Hogwarts underground harbour, Remus made an awkward attempt to scrape the net of webbing from his face with his forepaw, thinking wistfully of long arms, opposable thumbs, brooms and possibly machetes.
“Hah! Thwarted in the act!”
If Remus could have groaned, he would have gladly done so. The sound that emerged, if it could be categorised, was a kind of mutated whimper.
Nearly Headless Nick swooped around him, harrying him as best he could without an actual physical presence, gesturing furiously as he pulled a vast array of faces that ranged from comical to simply bizarre. Scraping the last of the sticky web from his face impatiently, Remus rolled his golden eyes and surged forward once more. One more corner…
Ow!
The shock of the impact drove the werewolf back onto his hindquarters with a thump. His nose gave a sharp ache as the sting of barrelling headfirst into something fairly substantial registered with his nervous system. Rising awkwardly back to his feet, Remus squinted ahead into the darkness and felt his heart drop like a stone.
There was no light at the end of the tunnel. The round, porthole like opening that had lead out onto the balcony-like winged back of one of the Great Hall’s magnificent stone gargoyles had gone. In the twenty years since his last visit, someone had found the entry and bricked it up.
No!
With a howl of frustration, Remus slapped his paws against the barrier, but there was no weakness, no rotten mortar, or crumbling bricks. The wall was sturdy and unbreakable. And he had no wand to pull it down.
The screams echoed from the beyond the bricked up opening. They seemed almost to hold a note of accusation.
Despair welled up in his chest as he stared, panting at the thick swirl of dust that coated the passage floor. I tried. I really did.
A soft cough, the clearing of a throat that no longer existed to be cleared, drew his attention upwards. Sir Nicholas was staring down at him with sudden realisation.
“Professor Lupin?” he said incredulously. “Is that you?”
Remus regarded the ghost with weary eyes. He nodded.
Nick darted forward, an anxious breeze of pearly mist with a desperate expression. “Do you have any idea how to open the Great Hall doors?”
Remus blinked. What?
Nick was wringing his ghostly hands. “The children cannot get out, you see! That thing knocked Professor Snape unconscious just before it…changed. And no one knows how he sealed the doors! Some of them have got out through the windows and the rest have managed to barricade themselves in the entrance using the House Tables but they cannot hold out much longer! I came out to see if there was anyone left in the castle that might know of a way…”
Remus missed the rest of the sentence as his mind raced, focussing on the shroud of magical scent that had cloaked the door so stubbornly. Snape had performed a wand seal “ a spell to lock any entrance in such a way that only the casting wand could reverse it. It was one magical scent he knew well, for he had smelled its faded essence on every full moon that had passed in the Shrieking Shack; the odour of Dumbledore’s precautions had lingered on every outside door and boarded window. And later in life, he had used it himself more than once to seal a room against the rising moon.
But how the hell was he supposed to tell that to Nearly Headless Nick?
With a frustrated huff, he scrabbled his paws impatiently along the floor, leaving long dark tracks in the dust.
Wait…
A sharp bark silenced Nick’s anxious babble. It was too dark here. But back near the entrance hall…
Abruptly Remus span about and sped back through the shredded cobwebs. It took moments to cover the ground he had so struggled with before, cantering to a halt on the dusty floor where light spilled in a rough pool through the still open panel of wood. After a moments search he found a patch that had not been disturbed.
Fortunately Nick had followed, hovering to a halt with a puzzled expression as he watched Remus bend forward over the dust-ridden stone. With an awkward forepaw, he scraped a word.
SNAPE
Nick’s white brow furrowed. “But he’s out cold. Not even enervate…”
But his words trailed away. Remus was still writing.
WAND
The ghost frowned. “Wand? What do you mean by…” Abruptly, his pale eyes lit up. “Professor Snape’s wand? They need to use Professor Snape’s wand?”
Remus nodded firmly as Nick’s head flew up with such speed, it half toppled from his body.
“Right!” he exclaimed. “I’ll go straight…”
For the second time, a frantic bark from Remus cut him off. He stared at the scrabbling werewolf once more. “But I thought…”
Two words emerged crookedly from the patterns of dust once more.
LIBER EMITTO
The ghost nodded in understanding. “That’s the spell they need, yes?”
At the werewolf’s emphatic nod, there was no more delay. In a flash, Nearly Headless Nick had surged through the wall and was gone.
Shaking himself free of the last of the restrictive webs, Remus pulled himself back out of the hidden passage and paced into the entrance hall.
The screams had not abated; if anything, they were intensifying. He could only hope that the cries that filled the air were those of fear and not of pain.
Curse you Kane. Why is it always children?
“Liber Emitto!”
Hermione Granger’s voice pierced even louder than the screaming; with a flare of blue the doors crashed apart and unleashed a scene of chaos.
Bracing himself as best he could, Remus forced down his anxious fear and the weak spasms of his still fragile body and cloaked himself with every scrap of strength and courage he could muster. There could be only one werewolf in Hogwarts.
He intended to make sure that it was him.
This was going to end. One way or another. Once and for all.
Enough was enough.
And then, with a growl, he hurled himself into the fray.
A/N: The idea of using a ghost as a messenger was one that demanded to be used. And really, it had to be Nick. :) I would also like to offer my humblest apologies to any Latin scholars reading this: needless to say, I do not speak Latin. The phrase/spell “Liber Emitto” is a combination of stealing phrases from Henry Beard’s humorous “Latin for All Occasions” (the only book I have ever found that includes the Latin for Astroturf ;)) and searching online Latin-English Dictionaries for appropriate words. The basic root intent is Liber “ to free, and Emitto “ to release. In other words, to release the doors and set them free. I hope. :)