A/N: Since a couple of people have asked - this fic is 42 chapters long so including this chapter you have 3 left to go. I have however started work on a sequel which I will begin posting when this fic is complete. :)
40: Ready Or Not
It was cold.
His breath hung misty in the morning air, the wind a frozen tickle that poked through his threadbare robes, frost glittering on the mounds of refuse that lay heaped across this pungent back alley. But the chill that filled the bones of Remus Lupin had very little to do with the weather.
Pulling his cloak tighter, Remus stared blankly at the battered red door, the makeshift skull and crossbones painted in peeling grimness across its surface grinning at him with lopsided mockery, and attempted for the fourth time to gather enough courage to step inside.
Some Gryffindor you are, Lupin. Afraid of a door.
But it was not the door that trembled his fingers or locked his heart in weighty stone. It was the prospect of what lay beyond.
I don’t think I can do this. This was a very bad idea.
Had he been too hasty? Making such an important decision on an impulse, a whim, caught in the glow of a brief conversation that had brought a strange kind of closure, he had written a letter and literally thrown himself to the wolves.
Today he would speak with Abraham Kane. One week before the feral’s Kiss, he had come to respond to the condemned werewolf’s final request.
Quite which werewolf was condemned was yet to be established. That, he suspected, would rather depend on what was said.
His friends thought he was mad. Minerva had frowned severely and shaken her head when he had confessed his acceptance at Saturday breakfast. Poppy had scolded him and warned him not to exert himself. Kingsley’s head had appeared in his fire not long after, making absolutely certain that he was sure about the meeting. Moody had sent him a blistering letter on the importance of constant vigilance as soon as headquarters received word, a written lecture punctuated by vividly detailed descriptions of possible consequences if he erred. Tonks had appeared abruptly at his window on her broomstick not long after noon, allowing that it was his decision, but filling the air with dire warnings about the duplicity of ferals that echoed those of Moody. Even Albus, who had appeared at his chambers that afternoon as he waded through his backlog of marking, had told him above all to take care.
Only his father had said nothing. But the look in his eyes as he stared at his son’s head in the fireplace had been more potent than any words.
And now here he was. Standing outside the entrance to the Ministry holding cells against the advice of almost everyone in the world he held dear and trying to decide just what had become of his sanity.
And he couldn’t just stand here forever.
Remus hardened his jaw and forced away his negativity. With a firm hand, he reached out and tapped the rusty padlock twice with his wand.
The eye sockets of the skull and crossbones blinked. The crudely drawn, crooked teeth flexed.
“Yes?” a hollow voice snapped abruptly.
Remus squared his shoulders. “Remus Lupin,” he said clearly and firmly. “I have an appointment with a Mr Shacklebolt to visit a high security prisoner.”
“Just a moment.” The disembodied eyes vanished for a moment, the skull once more reduced to nothing but roughly drawn paint. Then abruptly the eerie gaze was back.
“You’re cleared,” the voice admitted, with a certain apparent reluctance. “Be prepared to surrender your wand and any potential weapons you may be carrying when you report to the front desk.”
“Understood.” Remus nodded his consent as the padlock gave a rusty groan and clicked open. A moment later the door swung wide.
The reception area of the Ministry holding cells was a great deal quieter than upon his last visit. Indeed, reasonably early on a Sunday morning as it was, the broad reception with its uncomfortable looking scattering of wooden chairs and imposing front desk was empty but for a disgruntled looking young officer from the Magical Law Enforcement Patrol who was slumped in boredom at the reception desk. Spotting Remus as he arrived, he pushed himself reluctantly to his feet.
“Yes?” he snapped irritably.
Remus risked a half-smile. “I’m Remus Lupin. I’m here to…”
“I know.” The officer cut him off abruptly with a dismissive wave of the hand. “Mr Shacklebolt will be with you in a moment.” Clearly early morning weekend duty in the cells was not an assignment that this young Law Enforcer anticipated with joy and happiness, and it was made all the worse when some inconsiderate arrival made him work. “Whilst you’re waiting, please hand in your wand and any offensive weapons you may be carrying. You will also be required to submit to a magical search.”
Remus quietly approached the desk and laid his wand down on the wooden surface without comment. The young officer lifted it with mild distaste, dropping it with a certain lack of care onto the brass dish of a set of scales identical to the one used by the security wizard at the entrance to the Ministry of Magic. He tore off the strip of paper produced without even looking at it as he thrust it into the face of his visitor with a frown.
“Is this right?” he declared, his face a mixture of annoyance and resentment. A little nonplussed, Remus examined the details briefly and nodded.
“Yes, it is.”
“Good.” The young officer stabbed the piece of paper viciously down on a desk spike. Turning his back on his visitor with a huff, he casually yanked open a small wooden casket resting on a shelf behind the desk and deposited Remus’ wand with a clatter. A magical lock clicked into place as he dropped the lid shut.
“You’ll get that back when you’re done,” he muttered with a jerk of his head. His lip twisted. “Please stand still whilst I scan you for weapons.”
A few random waves of a little blue bauble and a couple of muttered spells seemed to serve as a comprehensive scan as far as the officer was concerned. He regarded his visitor and shrugged.
“You’re clean,” he informed Remus, waving his hand in the direction of the scatter of chairs. “So take a seat.”
Remus half opened his mouth to inquire how long it was likely to be before Kingsley arrived but his ever-helpful receptionist had already turned his back and stalked away through a door behind the desk, muttering something that sounded distinctly like “bloody werewolves” under his breath. Further help seemed distinctly unlikely.
Fortunately, at that moment, the tall, dark form of Kingsley Shacklebolt came striding out of the entrance that led into the holding cells, eyes sharp and earring jangling. His gaze fell on Remus and he came sharply to a halt.
“Re… Mr Lupin!” he exclaimed in surprise, hurriedly catching himself as he glanced around with a hint of anxiety for any possible listeners. “How long have you been here?”
Remus shrugged slightly, indicating with an easy wave of the hand that they were apparently alone. “A couple of minutes maybe. Your reception officer scanned me, took my wand and went into the back. I was about to take a seat.”
Kingsley’s expression darkened as his shoulders relaxed a little. “I told Fenton to call me the minute you arrived,” he said, his deep, rich voice filled with distinct irritation. “Ever since he was turned down for Auror training, that boy has been a liability. Somebody will have to have words.” He sighed. “Oh well, no matter I suppose.”
Remus made his way slowly across the room to join the Auror. His footsteps felt ridiculously like lead weights that dragged at every step. He sought to focus above the rising well of dread in his chest.
“How soon will you be ready for me?” he asked softly.
Kingsley regarded him with something resembling sympathy. “We’re ready now,” he replied. “If you are.”
Was he ready? Remus almost smiled at the bitter irony of the question. No, of course he wasn’t. Even with a thousand years to prepare himself, he was not certain he’d ever be ready for this. When it came to Abraham Kane, he never was.
He should never have come. What difference would closure make when all was said and done? And what kind of closure was even possible with the feral? Why had he come to this place, come to subject himself to another sarcastic barrage of taunts, of twisted words and cruel descriptions? Why was he submitting to whatever accusations the feral had to throw? Why…
“Remus?”
Kingsley was staring at his silence with a hint of concern. Remus smiled wanly.
“I’m ready,” he said.
The Auror simply nodded. “This way,” he indicated.
The corridor seemed to flow endlessly to nowhere. Cell door after identical cell door passed by on either side “ one, Remus knew, must have been his home for the night of a few weeks before but he neither could nor cared to try and identify it. He fell easily into the step with Kingsley instead, trying to ignore the mutters, groans and snores that issued from behind several of the confinement cells they passed. There were guards too, members of the Magical Law Enforcement Patrol on this level at least, for this was their domain, the place of the petty criminals, the little crimes and brief lock-up for those who broke the law but had not yet earned their Azkaban ticket. Remus avoided their steely-eyed gaze with care.
As they stepped aside to allow a guard to move absently past, Kingsley leaned in closer to his ear.
“Remember you don’t know really me,” he reminded, his voice a mere whisper. “Before I delivered your letters, we’d never met.”
Remus nodded. “Of course.”
Kingsley glanced from side to side quickly, but no one was in sight but the rapidly retreating guard. “There’ll be an identity test at the door,” he murmured as they started to move on. “The door won’t open unless you’ve passed. It’s just a sniff of veritaserum vapour to ensure that you aren’t an impostor using polyjuice; don’t worry, it’ll wear off before you get to the cells but it might be a good idea to resist any urges to say anything more than who you are and why you’re here.”
The end of the corridor loomed, a solid steel door lined with heavy bolts, the words HIGH SECURITY CELLS: ABSOLUTELY NO ENTRY EXCEPT TO AUTHORISED PERSONNEL AND THE CRIMINALLY INSANE engraved deeply into the metal. Two figures stood guard “ one slouching against the frame in the traditional garb on the Werewolf Capture Unit, half asleep and clearly uninterested and one upright and alert in Auror robes. His eyes fixed on Kingsley and he nodded briskly in acknowledgement of the Auror’s gesture of recognition.
“Auror Shacklebolt,” he said, lifting a small vial from an alcove in the wall and holding it out before him. “If you wouldn’t mind?”
Kingsley accepted the vial carefully and raised it to his nose. A silver shimmer around the rim confirmed that he had indeed inhaled some vapour.
“Name?”
“Kingsley Shacklebolt.”
“Rank?”
“Senior Auror.”
“What is your business here?”
“I am escorting Mr Lupin to visit the prisoner Kane.”
“Are you under the Imperius Curse or acting for any purpose contrary to your own free will?”
“No.”
The Auror smiled slightly. Taking the vial back, he turned and held it out to Remus.
“Inhale once please,” he ordered sternly.
Remus obeyed, the rim shimmering silver yet again as he struggled not to gag against the sharp, unpleasant tang of veritaserum vapour within his nostrils. A slight feeling of light-headedness spun across the inside of his skull.
“Name?”
“Remus John Lupin.” The answer emerged almost before Remus had consciously registered the question. The lazy eyed Werewolf hunter opened a slow eye.
“Position?”
“Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.”
“What is your business here?”
“I am visiting Ab… the feral Kane.” Remus fought off the urge to elaborate “ he barely managed to prevent himself from using the name Abel Isaacs. This was not the place to start babbling about his convoluted history with the feral.
The Auror’s stare fixed on him sharply, his gaze intensive and abruptly suspicious. His eyes narrowed. The Werewolf hunter had moved with a glare to his side, fingering his weapons threateningly.
Remus fought a sudden surge of apprehension. His temporary interrogator had obviously caught his slip and just as obviously was not impressed by it. But what would he think of it? What would he do about it?
He found out a moment later. The vial of vapour was thrust sharply back under his nose.
The Auror’s expression was icy. “Inhale again please,” he ordered firmly.
Ignoring the chill shiver of concern that ran the length of his spine, Remus moved to obey. But suddenly Kingsley stepped forward, staying both men with a raise of his hand.
“That’s hardly procedure, Beaumont,” he said with a frown, although Remus detected a well-concealed note of apprehension behind his tone. “One sniff only, remember. And he’s confirmed who he is.”
The Auror “ Beaumont - returned his gaze stubbornly. “He changed his answer mid-sentence,” he insisted to his superior with frosty determination, glancing at the silently threatening Werewolf hunter for collaboration. “That justifies a second dose. We need to establish his purpose.”
Remus stared at the two Aurors, the light-headed swirl of the veritaserum vapour fading away they wrangled over his honesty. Kingsley was eyeing his junior sternly.
“That’s not your job,” he stated softly, but his voice was filled with grim warning. “In fact I believe that’s mine. Are you saying I can’t do my job, Auror Beaumont?”
The atmosphere in the corridor was turning distinctly glacial, an icy chill of unnecessary trouble that cracked the air with ice. Wishing very much he hadn’t come, Remus decided it was time to step in.
“It’s all right, Mr Shacklebolt,” he intervened gently. “I don’t mind.”
Both Beaumont and the Werewolf hunter shot him glances of harsh suspicion. Kingsley’s stare was scarcely less intense.
“Are you sure, Mr Lupin?” he asked, his voice making a fine show of apparent indifference but his eyes filled with echoes of beware. “You don’t have to.”
“I don’t mind,” Remus repeated with a great deal more confidence than he felt; his mind tried and failed to fight away the powerful feeling that he had just volunteered to do something rather stupid. Ignoring his doubts with care, he accepted the vial and inhaled a second time. Almost at once his head began to spin.
“What is your business here?” Beaumont repeated at once, ignoring the glare of his superior.
“I am here to speak with the feral Kane.” Forcing himself to concentrate, Remus managed to phrase his words with more care.
“Are you under the Imperius curse or acting in any way contrary to your own free will?”
“No. The Imperius curse does not work on a werewolf. I am here of my own free will.”
“Are you or have you ever been in any way allied with the prisoner or planned to aid his escape?”
“Beaumont!” Kingsley intervened almost at once. “That’s out of line!”
“No.”
The single word, crystal clear and decisive, put pay to the potential disagreement. Beaumont glowered reluctantly but withdrew the vial and replaced it in its secured alcove with a frown. The Werewolf hunter also backed down with steely eyes as his Auror companion turned back to the visitors.
“Very well, you’re free to pass,” he conceded with unmistakable annoyance. A tap of his wand and the muttering of a complex incantation saw the heavy bolt lift out of position; Kingsley caught Remus’ arm, clearly eager to move on before Beaumont found any new sources of protest and hurriedly ushered him through. A moment later, the door slammed shut before them.
Remus tried to focus as the light-headed sensation of the veritaserum vapour began to fade but the view before him did little to relieve his odd sense of vertigo. A spiral stairwell dropped steeply down in front of him, dizzying and confined, narrow, windowless and dimly lit as it burrowed deep into the earth to the location of the most secured holding cells outside of Azkaban. Disorientated, fuzzy-headed and feeling slightly queasy, the werewolf stumbled slightly.
Kingsley’s grip on his arm tightened instinctively. “Watch yourself, Remus,” he cautioned softly. “This stairwell is rigged. If you step in the wrong place, the stairs drop into a slide that’ll carry you right down to a secure cell at the bottom. It’s not a gentle landing.”
His dizziness was easing. Moving carefully, Remus followed cautiously in the Auror’s footsteps as he began to ease his way down the steps.
“Tight security,” he commented, mimicking Kingsley’s careful avoidance of a particular spot.
“For a creature like Kane, it has to be,” Kingsley neatly stepped over a worn patch of stone as he gestured at Remus to follow with care. “The last thing the Ministry wants is yet another embarrassing escape on their records. That’s the reason they brought him here rather than taking him over to Azkaban. With all the breakouts they’ve had recently, nobody wanted to take a chance on losing yet another high profile prisoner.”
There was a moment of quiet concentration as the two men negotiated a particularly treacherous step. Glancing back to check on his companion’s progress, Kingsley’s expression flashed with uncharacteristic uncertainty.
“Remus, I think you should know.” His voice was soft and wary. “I had a briefing with Moody at Grimmauld Place last night. He told me a couple of facts that weren’t in Kane’s Ministry file.”
Remus looked up sharply at the suddenly apologetic look on the big black man’s face. A small pit seemed to burrow its way into the depths of his stomach.
He liked Kingsley. He trusted him. But he had a feeling the subjects on which Moody had briefed him were not those prone to be revealed in the course of casual friendship and Order camaraderie.
He was right.
“He explained about what happened to you in the hospital on the night you were bitten,” Kingsley cut straight to the point, his eyes were filled with sympathy. “And that Kane’s vendetta against you is something to do with a family connection. He didn’t go into much detail but he said he felt it likely that Kane would bring these matters up today and that I ought be prepared.” He smiled slightly, an expression tinged with a hint of sadness. “Merlin knows, I’ve got a lot of respect for you, Remus, and knowing what you fought off as a child only makes it stronger.” His smile strengthened reassuringly. “Don’t worry. Your secret’s safe with me.”
Remus gave a small smile in return. “Thank you, Kingsley. I appreciate that.”
Kingsley glanced at him sideways. “By the way Remus, I meant to ask “ are you any relation to a Rolphe Lupin?”
Remus blinked, taken a little aback by the unexpected question. “My father’s brother is called Rolphe,” he conceded uncertainly. “Why do you ask?”
The Auror shrugged slightly. “I was looking through the…” He pulled an expression of mild distaste. “..guest list for Kane’s execution yesterday and I noticed that there were three Lupins invited “ you, your father and this Rolphe. And after Moody mentioned a family connection to Kane last night, I was curious.”
Instantly Remus mind flashed back to his browse through the Ministry file, to the pair of names he’d come across and all but forgotten. Something clicked sharply into place.
“Is he going?” The question emerged almost before Remus had realised he was asking it.
Kingsley nodded. “He accepted a few days ago. Didn’t he let you and your father know?”
Remus shook his head softly. “I’ve never met him,” he admitted, wondering even as he did so why he had never had. “I don’t think he’s been in contact with us for some years now.”
“Ah.” Kingsley nodded his quiet understanding and delicately allowed the subject to drop.
A few turns later the stairwell petered out against a heavy, ironbound door. Two round glass lenses glimmered in the flickering light.
Kingsley knocked three times. A moment later, a pair of eyes blinked open.
“Authorisation and Password?” A voice intoned.
“Shacklebolt, K, Auror Division, authorisation KSB872. The password is Lilith.”
“And him?”
“Remus Lupin, here to visit the prisoner in accordance with the Decree of Last Rights, Ministry authorisation code Kane786.”
The eyes vanished. A moment later, the door swung open.
A small guardroom had been carved from solid bedrock, deceptively smooth-walled and solid looking. Furnishings were understandably sparse “ a battered table and four chairs lay in the centre, as well as a canvas camp-bed against the walls. A barrel that contained an assortment of honed and sharpened weaponry from down the ages lay battered in the far corner; a large battle-axe, a sword, a crossbow, two spears, and three Muggle guns lay clustered together in its grasp. All looked ready for use.
Three guards sat clustered around what appeared to be a hand of enchanted poker, at least judging by the fine poker face being displayed by the Queen of Hearts; one Auror and two men in the garb of the WCU. The fourth guard, a second Auror, was sealing the large ironbound door in their wake. An identical, heavily bolted door burrowed into the wall opposite.
The Auror at the table rose at once.
“Auror Shacklebolt,” he acknowledged. “And this, I presume, is Remus Lupin.”
Kingsley nodded on both their behalves. “That’s right. Is everything ready?”
“Yes sir.” The new Auror turned and made his way over the imposing doorway opposite. “The monitoring mask is in place for you at the end of the corridor. The prisoner has been checked and secured in his cell. Just tap the second door three times with your wand and state your clearance code for access. Mr Lupin is free to enter whenever he is ready.”
There was that word again. Ready. As if that was likely.
Sudden apprehensive fear coursed through Remus’ veins like a poison. The familiar shivers that marked the proximity of the feral Kane began to race the length of his limbs and spine as he struggled to catch his breath and still the sudden dizziness of his mind. His scar throbbed slightly.
I don’t want to do this. But it’s too late to back out now.
Oblivious to his companion’s uncertainty, Kingsley was smiling. “Thank you Gleghorn, that’s excellent. If you could just get the door?”
After a moment’s fuss, yet another sturdy door was clanging shut behind them. It felt to Remus as though he was somehow the one condemned, the one being locked away and destined never to depart. The narrow strip of corridor within which they lingered halted just ten yards distant at a final, equally sturdy portal sealed shut with a heavy bar. One door to go.
The shivers intensified.
Kingsley’s tap on the shoulder caused him to start; he turned to find the Auror regarding him with sympathetic seriousness.
“Let’s just check that veritaserum’s worn off,” he said pointedly. “What’s your name?”
Here was something else he could concentrate on, however briefly. “Celestina Warbeck,” Remus replied promptly. The first syllable slurred slightly but the lie escaped unhindered. The corners of Kingsley’s mouth twitched slightly.
“Either the vapour has worn off,” he remarked nonchalantly. “Or that’s a very good disguise.”
Remus picked at his threadbare robes with a slightly forced grin. “Well, you know how it is. I don’t like to get mobbed on the streets by mad autograph hunters on my day off.”
Kingsley gave a deep chuckle. “Glad you’ve still got your sense of humour,” he remarked, apparently unaware of the concept of the condemned man laughing as he strode up to his gallows. “Come on, Remus. Let’s get this over with.”
That was a sentiment to which Remus could relate. Following in Kingsley’s wake, he spotted a polished silver mask, its glass eye lenses gleaming dully from its’ setting atop a rod that protruded firmly from an alcove beside a rickety stool to the right of the final door. Kingsley dropped down onto the seat with a grimace.
“I hate these remote viewer things,” he confided with a disdainful wave of the hand. “But it means I’ll be able to see and hear everything that goes on in that room without compromising anything Kane might say. If he gives you any trouble, I’ll be straight inside. When you want to leave, just come over to the door and knock.” He pulled a slight face. “Normally it would release automatically in case of emergencies…”
“…But it’s charmed not to work for werewolves.” Remus finished the obvious sentence. “Don’t worry Kingsley, that’s a perfectly logical measure to take.”
The Auror nodded slightly, his expression filled with a sudden deathly seriousness. “Remus, be careful,” he said abruptly. “Don’t let him goad you into doing anything foolish. Don’t get too close to the bars. And for pity’s sake, don’t fight with him.”
Remus regarded his friend and fellow Auror member with calm eyes. His heart was pounding like a rhythmic sledgehammer, his stomach was churning, his spine a mass of ice. He could feel the chill shiver of Kane’s presence growing to the point of nearly consuming his focus, the rush of his blood, the pounding echo in his skull and the sharp shimmers of pain across his bite scar.
And he was afraid.
Afraid. Afraid of Kane?
No.
Sudden determination flooded him from crown to sole. Kane was locked up. He was condemned to death. What on earth was there to fear from him now?
He felt his jaw hardened stubbornly. He was not some petrified three-year old. And he would not behave like one. He was a grown man with strengths of his own, a life of his own, forged in spite of the condition forced upon him by Kane. He was Remus Lupin, teacher, Marauder, Order member and werewolf and he would be damned if he let Abraham Kane scent so much as a whiff of fear.
Calmness descended over him like a gentle wave. The sickening sense of boiling blood and chilled limbs seemed to fade under its touch.
His expression firm and utterly composed, Remus turned to Kingsley.
“It’s all right,” he said softly. “I just want a quiet word.”
Kingsley simply nodded. “Then good luck.”
Three taps of a wand and a muttered phrase released the lock with a clank. There was a moment’s pause.
Then Remus Lupin pulled open the door and quietly stepped inside.