A/N: Well, here we are. The final chapter. :(
42: Full Circle (Epilogue)
The implementation of the punishment of Abraham Kane by means of the Dementor’s Kiss was scheduled to take place on the second Sunday of December in the Ministry of Magic’s Courtroom Ten at three pm precisely. A selection of dignitaries ranging from important Ministry personages, prominent public figures, esteemed members of the Press and Aurors involved in the case, as well the survivors and relatives of any persons unfortunate enough to fall victim to the feral’s wide range of crimes were all invited to attend.
Remus Lupin had politely declined.
Reynard Lupin did not reply at all.
* * *
The late November cold snap had settled into mid December with a kind of frosty glee, sprinkling the mountainous regions of the British Isles with liberal helpings of snowy showers and spreading blankets of whiteness. Icicles hung dripping from tree branches and the eaves of buildings, shrinking by day beneath the tempered onslaught of the low and weakly sun, before stretching out once more within the chill coolness of the nighttime freeze. Snow concealed the ground, not melting, unyielding before the waning winter light, freshened every so often by a passing squall of board-rag clouds and spitting white. Trees stretched their leafless limbs towards the sky, shrouded in gentle coats of whiteness that stroked away the stark, grim outline of their midwinter skeletons, warmed against the icy sting of bitterly cold air.
Mid-Wales, Remus decided, was slightly less bracingly icy than the Scottish mountains at Hogwarts had proved when he had walked across the grounds to the limit of the school’s anti-apparation wards. But the difference was distinctly marginal.
Shaking off the momentary disorientation of his lengthy apparation, Remus dusted the remnants of a Scottish snow flurry from his warmest cloak and stepped with a no less snowy crunch over to the creaky iron gate that led from the head of the rough track that ceased at the edge of the woods into the snow-covered grassy meadow that led to the white-blanketed, hunched shape that was the cottage at Winter Hollow. Two inviting curls of smoke drifted out into the icy air from the bookend-like twin chimneys of his childhood home.
A spiteful bite of wind slapped sharply against his skin, causing an instinctive wince. Remus supposed he could have apparated directly into the almost certain warmth of the living room with its roaring fire, but it had long been considered bad manners amongst wizarding folk to apparate directly into another’s house, even when expected, on the off chance that they should be caught at an inconvenient moment; not to mention that apparating directly from the freezing cold into the warmth of indoors would have caused a nasty shock to his system. And of course, he could have walked down into Hogsmeade and taken the floo from the Three Broomsticks but by his own reckoning, that walk would have involved longer in the bitter cold and besides; ever since childhood, Remus had never been floo powder’s keenest fan. One floo journey was already in the offing today and that one was quite enough.
And this was Winter Hollow. Coming home deserved a proper entrance.
And home it would always be. Remus smiled fondly at the gate’s familiar shriek as he pushed it closed once more and set out across the meadow to the rhythmic crunch of footsteps against snow. Surroundings so familiar that they felt like a part of his blood assailed him from every turn “ the frozen creek with its icy stepping stones, the tall sycamore on the edge of the woods that he had climbed a thousand times or more, the old well with its recalcitrant grindylow family and the battered old lean-to hunkered against the side of the house, spinning forth its well known chorus of strange and alarming noises. Memories flooded from all directions, childhood games of Hide and Seek, of Catch the Puffskein, his mother calling him inside after a make believe adventure, and later, the frantic snowball fights with his three good friends, broomstick-back gamesmanship that he and Peter inevitably lost and prank-filled explorations of the forests and mountains around.
Quickly up the two front steps and he was there at the familiar red front door. Remus hesitated, finger hovering by the little golden bell before he abruptly plunged into his layers of clothing to find whatever well-buried pocket he had thoughtlessly placed his house key in. To ring the bell felt oddly wrong, as though he was a visitor here, an attitude for which his father had roundly scolded him in the past. And he had been right. Winter Hollow was his home, his haven in dark times, a place to wrap himself in happy memories that remained undimmed by recent taints. Wherever he had chosen to live in the world over the years, not even Hogwarts held the same place in his heart as this cottage that would always be engraved by the word home within his mind. He had always returned here. He had rested and recovered within these walls after the events of the Halloween of 1981. He had come back again after his forced first resignation from Hogwarts. And now, for this day, at midday on this second Sunday of December, he was coming home again.
Finally the key emerged, escaping unscathed from a roiling mass of clothing. Re-adjusting his robes with as much dignity as he could muster, Remus inserted the key into the lock and pushed open the door.
Warmth struck him in a shocking rush as it fled abruptly past him into the icy outdoors. His face flushed, and suddenly feeling well overdressed, Remus stepped inside and closed the door behind him.
He was in the midst of unravelling the long and complicated scarf that Molly Weasley had generously forwarded to him via Ron and Ginny a few days before when, with the familiar tap of cane on floor, Reynard appeared in the kitchen doorway. He regarded his son’s predicament with a wry smile.
“Let me guess,” he said with a chuckle. “Another Molly Prewett special?”
Remus fingered the ever-growing tangle of colourful knitted loops with a smile. “It’s Molly Weasley now, but yes. My friend Tonks rather impulsively mentioned to her that I’d been a little cold after walking down to Hogsmeade one evening and she took it upon herself to do something about it.” He lifted a scarlet panel incredulously. “And I swear that this thing has gotten longer since I put it on.”
Rey laughed outright. “Never get too close to a woman who can knit,” he offered sagely. “You’ll be drowning in knitwear within a month. Your mother never tried, bless her heart. That’s one of the reasons I married her.”
Remus raised an eyebrow from within his tangled nest of scarfishness. “You married mum because she couldn’t knit?” He grinned. “And there, I thought it had something to do with some romantic nonsense like love.”
“Now who gave you that foolish notion?” Grinning back, Rey took mercy on his struggling son and moved to offer his assistance. After a few moments of joint effort, Lupin manliness finally prevailed over the cobra-like knitwear. The scarf safely subdued, Remus peeled off his gloves and his substantial winter cloak and hung the heavy layers on the entrance hall’s wall hooks. He rubbed his hands together, glancing into the living room at the unusually lively roaring fire beneath the large mantelpiece. Recent scorch marks had stained the stone at its back.
Turning back to his father, Remus smiled.
“So where are we flooing for lunch?” he asked cheerfully. “The Leaky Cauldron? Or that nice little wizarding pub near Rhayader we tried out last Easter?”
There was something vaguely unsettling about the smile on Reynard’s face.
“Neither,” he declared smugly. “We’re staying here.”
Remus blinked. “Have you ordered something? Or picked some food up? I noticed someone’s been using the floo…”
“Of course not!” With quite deliberate care, Reynard took a deep breath and sniffed the air. After a pause, he fixed his son with a beatific grin.
“I’ve cooked,” he proclaimed proudly.
Remus stared. And after a moment, the drifting scent of sizzling roast potatoes and well-roasted beef did indeed register against his nostrils. And it smelt…appetising. It smelt edible.
A hint of amused suspicion began to sneak its way into the edges of Remus’ mind. But he carefully bit his lip and opted to play along.
He adopted an incredulous stare. “I see no smoke,” he stated in mock astonishment. “The walls seem to be standing. The smell in the air implies something might remain that is actual food.” He glared sternly. “Who are you and what have you done with Reynard Lupin?”
His father fixed him with a dry stare. “Professor Lupin, the comedian of the Hogwarts faculty,” he drawled with a half-smile. “Honestly, have you no respect for your elders?”
Remus chuckled. “Don’t you remember what mum said after that time you used her chopping board to dissect that diseased kappa? Love comes unbidden, fondness blooms whether you like it or not, but respect you’re going to have to earn.”
Rey gave a fond smile. “Diana always did get verbose when she was annoyed. It always used to make me laugh.”
Remus shared the happy memory. “And then she’d cuff you over the head and send you off to clean something. And then she’d spend an hour or two telling me that for my own good I was to try not to grow up as awkward as Daddy.”
His father laughed out loud. “Typical. Undermined behind my back as usual.” He jerked his head in the direction of the kitchen. “Now come and pull your weight, young man, and help me dish up.”
“Yes sir.”
Following Reynard into the kitchen, Remus knew at once that his suspicions had been correct. There was not a hint of the usual devastation that accompanied one of his father’s typical forays into the wonderful world of culinary misadventure. Saucepans of various vegetables were lined up steaming on the counter, clearly the victims of a highly adept steaming spell. Boiled potatoes bubbled in a small cauldron of hot water over the fire with a flat plate of roast potatoes dangling next to them. And smoking appetisingly in a wide dish on the table, the joint of roast beef lingered, awaiting carvery.
Remus’ eyes fixed upon the dish. His eyes narrowed.
“That’s new,” he commented blandly. “I wasn’t aware we had any dishes with dancing toucans on the sides. Not really your taste though.”
Reynard, who had been rather ineffectually poking at the saucepan of broccoli, froze. A look of unmistakable guilt flickered across his face.
At the shifty expression, Remus laughed outright. “Oh dad!” he chuckled fondly. “If you don’t think I can tell the difference between one of Mrs Wenn’s roasts and your usual disasters in the kitchen, there probably isn’t much hope for you. Let me guess; you tried out cooking for yourself and set fire to something. Mrs Wenn caught you, you explained and she offered to do it instead. She brought some vegetables and a roast over in a dish a few hours ago and was cooking up a treat when you saw me coming out the kitchen window and bundled the poor woman down the floo. Am I right?”
Reynard’s smile was rueful. “You can’t blame a man for trying. And I did help her with it “ boiling water, washing pans, chopping carrots, that kind of thing.”
Remus shook his head with a grin. “And you still have all your fingers? Then it is, at least partly, your first culinary triumph. Now let’s get this food served up before it turns into one of your regular disasters.” He moved over to commandeer vegetable duty from his father, gently easing the older man into a part of the kitchen where he could do something more effective.
“I’ll see to the vegetables if you carve the roast,” he ordered briskly. Catching sight of the slightly subdued look on Rey’s face, Remus blessed his father with a broad smile.
“Thanks for this dad,” he said softly. “I couldn’t imagine anything better for today than a quiet dinner at home.”
Reynard smiled in return. “Neither could I.”
* * *
The doors of the Ministry of Magic opened. One by one, the lifts started to descend.
Courtroom Ten began to fill.
* * *
With a satisfied groan, Remus deposited himself on the living room sofa, grinning at his father as he lowered gingerly into his chair beside the fire and released a sigh of contentment.
“Say what you will about Mrs Wenn,” Rey began thoughtfully.
“And you always do.”
Reynard pointedly ignored his son’s interruption. “Yes, she may be patronising, and annoying and treats me like a child, but there is simply no denying that that woman knows how to cook a good roast dinner.”
“Seconded.” Remus laid his head back against the sofa cushion, staring absently at the ceiling. “And she can do it all without ever setting innocent saucepans on fire.”
“I only did that once.”
“I know. Because that was when mum finally and irrevocably banned you from her kitchen.”
Remus could sense the mock resentful glare that burned in his direction more powerfully than the flames of the fire.
“You know, someday, when I’m gone,” There was a note of pretend tremulousness running the length of Reynard’s words. “You’re going to regret that you spent so much of our precious time together making fun of your poor old dad.”
Lowering his gaze, Remus returned his father’s stare and cocked a thoughtful eyebrow. A hint of a smile played at the corners of his lips.
“I doubt it,” he said cheerfully. “I consider it time well spent.”
Rey snorted ungraciously. “Just my luck. Out of all the possible children your mother and I could have produced, I get landed with the one most likely to crack jokes about my cooking in my eulogy.”
Remus laughed outright. “Honestly dad. Do you think I’d waste your eulogy with cooking anecdotes? I have far better stories than that! Besides…” His air of good cheer wavered slightly as his smile twisted slightly with dark irony. “Given the evidence of the last couple of months, it’d be a fair bet to say you’ll be writing my eulogy long before I have a chance to write yours.”
“Don’t talk like that.” Reynard’s sharp retort cut into the air like a whiplash, wiping instantly away the last vestiges of the good humour of moments before. “You’re not going to die, Remus, and that’s the end of it.”
Remus regarded his father’s sudden seriousness with a gravity of his own. “Nobody lives forever,” he said softly.
Rey’s jaw hardened. “But young men of thirty-seven generally outlive their elderly fathers.” He raised his chin stubbornly. “But you are certainly not going to die before me anyway. So it doesn’t matter.”
“Dad…”
“End of discussion, Remus. Change the subject.”
Remus bit his lip. His father’s desire not to contemplate the possibility of the loss of the last of his beloved family was painfully obvious. Diana’s loss was a fresh sting that no amount of time would ever dim and the traumatic events of Remus’ injury a few weeks before had clearly placed the prospect firmly and terrifyingly before Rey’s eyes. That he did not want to consider that it could happen again now that his son was safe and well was understandable but also, Remus was forced to admit, depressingly unrealistic.
The truth of the matter was that if the war were to go sour, and if Remus was destined to fall as a casualty in the new fight against Voldemort, his father would be left all alone.
Remus couldn’t bear the thought of it. But he could not afford to ignore it until it truly was too late.
“I can’t, dad.” His voice was gentle but his tone was firm as he met the pleading look in his father’s eyes. “I can’t ignore this. I know you don’t want to even consider it, but I’m fighting as part of a war and there is a very real possibility that I could lose my life it in. And I can’t stand the thought of you being left alone.”
Rey was already shaking his head. “That was true before, but things are different now. You’re teaching in a school for goodness sake, not scouting the battlegrounds…”
“And if the events of last full moon prove anything it is that Hogwarts School and the village of Hogsmeade are major targets.” Remus leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he stared at his reluctant father intensely. “Dad, in this atmosphere, anything could happen. I don’t want you be isolated if…”
Rey made an impatient sound as he stared irritably into the flames of the fire. “You talk as though I’m living the life of a hermit,” he declared abruptly. “The crippled old man trapped in his remote mountain hideaway. I do have friends, Remus. I visit Diana’s family all the time and they visit me, not to mention my old colleagues, school friends, the academics I submit my dark creature research to. I hate to tell you this, my boy, but much as I love you, you aren’t the sum total of my social life.”
“I know that.” Remus sat back into the sofa with a frown. “But it’s not the same as having your family with you.”
Rey glanced up at him, eyebrow raised. “If you’re angling to have Huw and Bronwyn move back in,” he said dryly. “I sincerely doubt they’d come.”
Remus sighed. “Dad, that’s mum’s family. I’m talking about your family.”
His father’s eyes sharpened dangerously. Unnamed emotions swam within their depths. “My family is sitting in this room with me,” he stated, his voice soft and low in tone but ironbound with resolve. “Of any other blood relatives I have, one has burnt our bridges and widely scattered the ashes and one we agreed when we picked this date that we weren’t going to discuss.”
Remus frowned, a faint line creasing his forehead. “And I agree on the latter,” he said with a sigh. “But the former… Dad, why don’t you get back in contact with your brother? I know he’s still alive.”
Rey closed his eyes. “Remus, please don’t. Just leave it alone.”
“Just write him a letter.” Remus continued with determination, fighting back his own strong urge to yield to his father’s distress and drop the subject. “Call him in the fire. Make some kind of contact. I know you’ve fallen out in the past but surely, now of all times is the moment to put the past behind you.”
Reynard had balled his hands abruptly into fists. “It’s really not that simple, Remus. I don’t want to go into this now but I think it’s safe to assume that it is the understatement of the century to say that I am one of the last people on this earth that Rolphe Lupin ever wants to hear from.”
Remus waved a hand impatiently. “When did you last try?”
His father’s gaze was filled with sorrowful resignation. “About thirty years ago.”
“Dad!”
“Don’t you say a word!” Rey snapped sharply across his son’s protest. “Remus, this really is none of your business. You have no idea what happened!”
“I think I can make a good guess.” Remus met his father’s eyes, his gaze steely but tinged around the edges with sympathy. “You see, a few weeks ago I had the chance to take a look at a copy of Kane’s Ministry file. And a couple of names caught my eye.”
He took a deep breath, trying to ignore the look of apprehension on his father’s face as his plunged on beyond the point of no return. “Megara and Randolph Lupin. Killed in an attack by a certain pair of feral werewolves, near Buxton, Derbyshire in early November 1962, aged thirty-seven and nine years respectively. That happened the day before I was bitten. And I know your family home “ the family home that your brother inherited “ can’t be more than ten miles from the place that Hel Kane died. That’s the reason I know Rolphe Lupin is alive, dad. An Auror friend of mine mentioned in passing that he saw his name on the invitation list for Abraham Kane’s execution. He asked me if we were related. I had to tell him we’d never met.”
Gently, he reached forward laying one hand carefully over his father’s. “They were his family, weren’t they?” He asked, his voice a mere murmur. “Your brother’s wife and son. And Kane killed them.”
Reynard stared blankly into the fire. His eyes were filled with melancholy regret that echoed over decades.
“He didn’t tell me,” he whispered softly over the low humming crackle of the fire. “He didn’t even contact me to tell me they’d died. And they weren’t even found until after the night of the full moon so Alastor didn’t know either. They’d barely been reported as missing.” He sighed deeply. “Do you know how I found out? A few days after your attack, not long after we’d brought you home, I decided to floo over to my old home to warn my brother and his family about Kane. When I stepped out of the fire, I found myself in the middle of a double funeral.” He closed his eyes once more. “It turned out that the threat from Abraham Kane was old news to Rolphe. And thanks to a charming calling card inscribed in blood beside the bodies, it was made pretty clear to Rolphe who Kane really was.”
He shook his head quietly, accepting his son’s reassuring squeeze of his hand with a slight smile. “He didn’t tell the Aurors. He had my father’s sense of pride “ he still refused to admit that Abel Isaacs was anything to do with him. But the speed with which he dragged me off to his study and the strength of the silencing charms he cast over the door made it pretty clear to me that this was not a case of death by accident. He told me that his wife and son were dead. And he told me who had killed them.” Reynard met his son’s eyes with a stare filled with hurt and regret. “And then,” he added quietly. “He told me it was my fault.”
Remus stared at his father. “What?”
“He said it was all because of me, because I’d been fool enough to consider his adoption.” Reynard took several deep breaths. “ He told me I’d encouraged the boy and then dashed his hopes when I should have left well enough alone in the first place. That I’d identified myself and therefore him and his family as targets. That it was my fault that he had lost a wife and son, that his daughters were now motherless.”
Rey slipped his hand abruptly free of his son’s hold, wrapping his own palm around Remus’ fingers instead. “I tried to explain to him what had happened to you, that he was not alone in his suffering,” he continued shakily. “But in the end, that only made things worse.” His eyes filled with unspoken apologies. “Rolphe wanted nothing to do with another werewolf in the family. He said that you would bring nothing but trouble and that he wanted you nowhere near his two little girls. And then he made it clear in no uncertain terms that he never wanted to set eyes on me, my…” He cleared his throat pointedly. “…Muggle-blood wife or my monster of a son again. And then he threw me out.”
He grasped his son’s hand all the tighter. “I was angry for a long time about the way he spoke to me, the things he called my family. For a while, I no more wanted to see him than he wanted to see me. But Diana...” He smiled suddenly. “You’re so like her Remus, you really are “ she knew that I hated the way that things had ended between Rolphe and myself. And when we saw in the Daily Prophet a few years later that Rolphe had got married again, it seemed the perfect time to send congratulations and extend the olive branch.” He laughed bitterly. “The letter was returned unopened. And just in case that had left me in any doubt, Rolphe had scrawled a message across the envelope. Stay away from my family. And that was the last contact we had.”
Remus watched his father’s expression of pain with no small degree of guilt.
“I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “I shouldn’t have asked.”
“No, no.” Rey shook his head gently. “You had every right to know. And in a way Rolphe was right. It was a good part my fault that Kane hated us all so much.” He patted his son’s hand absently. “But you’re right “ on both counts. Perhaps it is time to try again.” He sighed, staring a gaze with Remus for an instant. “I’ll think about it, Remus. I’ll think about it.”
The fire crackled sharply into the silence that followed. The clock on the mantle ticked with metronome regularity as it marked the silent passage of time.
Remus glanced up. It was quarter past two.
An abrupt sigh from his father drew his attention back. Pointedly ignoring the steady march of the clock, Reynard gave his son a tentative smile.
“Well, the snow seems to have passed for the time being,” he said with slightly forced cheerfulness. “And I fancy some exercise for once. Why don’t we go for a walk?”
Remus frowned slightly, glancing down in the direction of Reynard’s crippled leg. “Are you sure you can manage?” he asked in genuine concern. “It’s bound to be slippery and you know how your leg gets in the cold…”
His voice tailed off. The long, slow look with which his father had just blessed him spoke far more loudly than words ever could about his answer to that question.
Remus glanced over his shoulder out of the window. The snow was glistening invitingly under an ice-blue sky.
He met his father’s gaze and returned his smile sincerely.
“That sounds good,” he said.
* * *
Deep in the bowels of the Ministry holding cells, Ministry Aurors Shacklebolt, Dawlish and Gleghorn stood side by side staring at the sturdy door that stood before them. In Gleghorn’s arms were chains.
Wordlessly, Kingsley extended his wand and tapped the lock three times.
The door clicked open.
Within, they could hear shouting.
* * *
As Remus had subtly predicted, Reynard did indeed find the snowy, slippery ground difficult going, but the elder Lupin pushed himself onwards up the mountainside with a kind of grim, dogged determination that made his son wonder whether or not his father had truly suggested they take this walk just for the pleasure of it. The sky glistened a sharp wintery blue, the watery rays of the horizon skimming sun offering light but no warmth against the backs of their cloak as they moved out of the afternoon shadow of the valley into the pitiful light of higher ground, picking their way beneath the skeletal canopy of the forest. Snow dripped to the ground with deferent reluctance from the sun-touched limbs above, although the dull tint of advancing afternoon and the ice cold chill that whispered through the wind to sting exposed skin and sneak its way through careful layering of cloth implied that soon the drops of water would be frozen still once more.
It was not until about twenty minutes after they had set out that Remus’ suspicions about his father’s possible intent were solidified. Rey, who had until that point stuck faithfully to the familiar path that turned off to the left just ahead to wind its way around the mountain’s edge towards Devil’s Bridge, veered abruptly away from the well-known track and plunged into the more treacherous footing of the open woods. Taken aback by the sudden, unspoken change of direction, it was several moments before Remus gathered himself sufficiently to hurry in pursuit.
“Dad?”
Reynard halted carefully, leaning against his cane for support as he gathered his misty breath and turned to face his confused son.
“Yes?” he asked softly.
Remus stepped closer, his footstep a soft crunch against the snow, staring at the quiet resolution of his father’s face and fighting a sudden suspicion. “Why are we out here, dad? Where are we really going?”
Reynard’s sigh was a surge of misty white. In his free hand, something small and round rubbed against his gloved fingers, secured by a chain to his warm robes. It took Remus a moment to realise that it was his father’s old brass pocket watch “ the pocket watch that he knew was one of the few things that Rafe Lupin had been willing to bequeath his eldest son upon his death. It had lived for most of Remus’ childhood in a small wooden box that rested on the mantle in his father’s study, removed occasionally for polishing and maintenance but otherwise rarely seen. To his knowledge at least, Rey had never before carried it.
Today, it seemed was an exception.
Abruptly, Rey flicked the watch open with one finger and brusquely checked the time. A moment later, the watch was hidden once more within his robes. His father’s tired brown eyes rose gently and met his gaze.
“Somewhere appropriate,” he replied at last. “And its twenty-to so we’d probably best get a move on.”
Remus fell wordlessly into step with his father’s uneven gait as they set out once more into the snowy woods, picking their careful way passed concealed roots and slippery patches of un-melted ice. The wind gusting gently through the stark trees and the gentle crunch of their combined footsteps were for a few moments the only sounds to be heard.
“I thought you didn’t want to talk about it,” Remus remarked at length as he caught his father’s elbow gently and eased him over an awkward patch of snowy ground. “I wasn’t even sure you wanted to think about it.”
Rey gave a wan smile. “Can’t say I much do,” he responded absently. “But that doesn’t mean that I don’t feel that it ought to be marked. Moments such as this shouldn’t be allowed to simply pass by.”
Remus glanced at his father’s distant expression, his faraway eyes and knew that for that moment he was lost to the past. “Didn’t you want to go?” he asked softly.
Rey emphatically shook his head. “To the Ministry’s show execution? No.” He glanced up at his son. “Didn’t you?”
Remus wearily echoed his father’s gesture. “No.”
Reynard’s smile was slightly bitter. “You know what it’ll be like down there.” His words were spoken softly but filled with a volume of disdain and sorrow. “The Ministry’s glorious moment of triumph. They’ll make a spectacle of it. Happy smiling important folks, laughing and joking, come to see the show, not caring at all for the lives that were ruined or lost, not capable of understanding the pain. It’s all a game to them. There’ll be no respect, no comprehension. That’s not marking a moment, that’s making a mockery of it.” He breathed deeply for a moment, flickering a grateful smile in response to his son’s reassuring grip on his shoulder. “It’s not right, Remus. Such events need to pass with dignity or they might as well not pass at all. Besides…”
He paused briefly, meeting his son’s gaze with a smile that rang with the same complicated cocktail of emotions that Remus had experienced on his visit to Kane in his holding cell.
“You’ve found your moment of resolution, Remus,” he whispered softly. “I want this to be mine.”
Remus nodded silently in understanding. With a quietly grateful smile, Reynard turned and led the way through the snowy woods once more.
* * *
The buzz emanating from Courtroom Ten echoed down the stone corridors to a remote anti-chamber, its door sealed tight and bound secure. A chill unrelated to winter’s advance seemed to seep around the edges of the doorframe.
The wizard set to guard it sought to focus. Happy thoughts, he needed happy thoughts, he needed to remember how to be cheerful, how to feel joy, his wedding day, the smile of his baby girl, his days at Hogwarts, playing Quidditch for the House team…. Falling from his broom and breaking his ankles, his wife’s post natal depression, his mother’s lingering illness, his father’s death, an old friend’s suicide….
Gods, how he hated these things!
Behind the door, the uncaring Dementor drank his joy and waited.
Today it would feast once more.
* * *
“I think I know where we’re going.”
Reynard looked sharply across at his son by the fading light of falling afternoon as they eased their way carefully past a patch of tangled briar behind a snow-doused hollow of earth. Remus’ eyes were roaming the tiny glade with a kind of distant recognition, an absent stare that implied his thoughts had dropped into past times. He raised an eyebrow slightly at his father’s bewilderment.
“I’ve got my memory back, remember?” he said with a vague smile, tapping one finger against his temple to illustrate the point. “And for all it was so long ago, I think I remember this place. This is where I saw Kane transform.” Catching his father’s free hand, he helped the older man across a treacherous patch of icy boulders before glancing over his shoulder with deliberate pointedness. “And that means that the place where I was bitten must be somewhere…” He paused a moment to gesture with a sweep of his arm. “Just over there.”
He turned gently back towards his father. “That’s where we’re going, isn’t it?” he asked softly. “The glade where I was bitten.”
Reynard smiled wanly as he fingered the head of his cane. “Yes, it is,” he confirmed quietly, his voice low and filled with graveness. “Do you mind?”
Did he mind? Remus wasn’t sure. He knew these woods well of course, from childhood explorations both alone and in the company of his friends. With a considerable sense of irony, he recalled a small glade not far ahead where he, James, Sirius and Peter had spent a most enjoyable summer’s afternoon between his second and third years, pursuing one another about the branches of a towering old oak tree in a perilous game of treetop tag that was considerably enlivened by James’ introduction of dungbombs to proceedings. Combining this happy memory with the dark and sketchy remembrances of the night that changed his life forever, he realised with no small amount of shock that the earth to which he had tumbled, laughing as he dropped stinking of dung from that tree was the very same ground upon which nearly ten years before, his blood had spilled from wolfish wounds and soaked into the soil.
And he’d had no idea. Not then.
“Remus?”
His father’s gentle touch against his wrist caused him to start “ he jerked his head up in surprise to find his father’s concerned eyes boring into his face.
“If you mind, we’ll go back.” Rey’s voice echoed gently against the stripped down winter trees. “We’ll apparate back home and no more said about it.” He shook his head wearily. “It was a ridiculous idea really, I should have thought…”
“Dad.” Remus cut off his father’s anxious words gently but firmly. “I don’t mind. I was just thinking.”
Rey’s eyes fixed intensely upon his face. “You really mean that?”
“I really mean it.”
“You’re not just saying what you think I want to hear?”
Remus grimaced slightly “ it was possible for someone to know you a little too well. “I’m not just saying it,” he declared firmly and was slightly surprised to find that he sincerely meant it. “I was just thinking about my friends, that’s all. We used to come up here to mess about when they came by to visit in the summer holidays.”
Rey’s returning look was slightly reproachful “You never told me you boys used to come this far in. In fact, as I recall, you stared me straight in the eye and faithfully assured me that you’d never strayed out of sight of the path.”
Remus fell into step beside his father once more as they slowly resumed their gentle trek towards an unseen destination, smiling slightly at the older man’s indignity.
“Well of course I did,” he replied with a hint of a smile. “Do you think I enjoyed being told off?”
Rey allowed himself a small chuckle. “I should have known. You always were alarmingly good at hiding mischief behind an innocent expression. A fine skill at masking your emotions, you’ve got there.”
Remus stared up into the snow-coated canopy of empty branches above him, his eyes lingering upon the fading sky and the slow, steady gathering of cloud across the mountain top that implied a fresh coating of snow might soon be drifting earthwards once more, and sighed.
“I’ve had plenty of practice,” he said softly.
He could feel his father’s sharp gaze but he did not turn to face him, maintaining his carefully tempered pace so as not to outstrip the older man. He knew as well as Reynard did that his comment had not referred to boyhood pranks.
“Remus…”
“Dad, I’m scared.”
Reynard’s mouth closed with a shocked snap. He blinked sharply, staring at the rigid shape of his son as he moved in silence at his side, shoulders tense and solid, eyes determinedly forward facing as though he had not spoken at all. It was a protective stance that Rey recognised well.
“Scared of what?” he asked softly.
Remus kept his gaze upon the uncertain footing of the ground before him, the evenness of his voice betraying the skill his father had recently praised.
“Of how close I keep coming,” he said, his voice low and deceptively calm. “Of what’s inside me, of what came to be inside me just a few dozen metres from here. Of waking up one foul morning and finding I’m no longer myself.” His eyes stared blankly into the middle-distance. “Of waking up and finding I’m Kane.”
Rey took a sharp breath as he reached out with his free hand and wrapped his fingers reassuringly around his son’s shoulder. “That’s not going to happen, Remus,” he replied firmly. “You’ve beaten it back too many times.”
“And that’s part of the problem.” Remus swallowed a mouthful of icy air and released another with explosive abruptness. “I told Kane that I was the stronger because I had not given in to my wolf. But he retorted that the wolf would always be there, always waiting and that some day I would no longer be able to fight.”
Remus’ sharp halt almost knocked Rey from his feet as his son wheeled suddenly to face his father. “Dad, what if he’s right?” he exclaimed abruptly. “The wolf will always be there, in my mind, fighting me, fighting for control of me and it scares me half to death to think that all it might take is one bad day for it to win forever.”
“That’s not going to happen,” Rey repeated more sternly. “It’s over now, it’s gone, he’s gone, or as good as. You don’t have to worry about losing, Remus. You’re stronger than that.”
“Am I?” Remus’ voice was bleak and pained. “That night in Hogwarts; the night I thought I was losing control “ I’ve never been so afraid in all my life. And when I realised how badly I was injured, when I thought that I was going to die “ I was almost glad. I wanted to die because the alternative I was facing was so much worse that it didn’t even bear to be thought of. And yes, it’s over now, but what about next full moon or the full moon after, or the next tragedy to strike or the next bad batch of Wolfsbane “ what then? I know I can hold it for now. But I don’t know if I can hold it back forever.”
“I do.”
Remus stared at Reynard. Reynard stared back.
His father’s eyes were filled with absolute certainty.
Remus sighed deeply. His father’s reassuring confidence in him was comforting, of course it was. But it was also painfully unrealistic. Reynard had never faced the reality of what the wolf could do to his son’s body and mind, not really, he had never known the struggle to hold onto precious humanity beneath a rising moon, to feel the contortions of an inescapable transformation. He had never even seen his son transformed. How could he be so sure? How could he ever understand?
“Dad.” Shaking his head slightly, Remus rested his hand briefly over the top of his father’s continued grasp on his shoulder. “I love you. And I’m grateful that you believe in me so, I really am. But you don’t understand what it’s like. You’ve never seen what the wolf can do to me, inside and out. You don’t know how it feels.”
The wind gusted slightly, driving chill points of ice against exposed skin and drifting the loose edges of cloaks and robes in its passing. Overhead, the snow clouds were converging. But neither Reynard nor Remus noticed.
“No, I don’t know how it feels.” The elder Lupin regarded his son seriously for a moment, his grip upon his shoulder tightening gently. “But I have seen more than you know. Remus, I was at Hogwarts on the night of the full moon. Albus called me not long after it happened and I came straight away.” He paused a moment, lip twisting slightly as he caught the expression of growing horror that was spreading across the features of his son, but spoke to confirm his fear nonetheless. “I sat with you most of the night.”
Remus felt a strange chill, a chill unrelated to wind, or ice, or gathering snow, run down the length of his spine. His mind was spinning anxiously “ it had not even crossed his thoughts that his father might have been there that night, that he could have fallen witness to the one experience that he had never wanted either of his parents to see. His father had been there. And he must have seen…
“You saw?” he whispered, his voice rich with quiet horror. “You saw…it?”
Reynard’s gaze did not falter although his jaw tensed noticeably. “I saw you. And I watched you fight and battle in spite of your weakness, in spite of the fact that it was not your time to rule that body, not the shape and form born to you. And you still won, Remus. You’re still you.” He smiled then, a gentle smile rich with a father’s pride. “And that’s how I know that it will never beat you. You first won this battle when you were three years old and I fail to see why you shouldn’t keep winning. Whatever traumas you suffer, whatever moments of weakness, you will always come back to yourself in the end. Because you are stronger than it is. And you always will be.”
Remus stared for a moment, just stared at his father’s quiet form silhouetted against the snowy woodland backdrop, at the pride, the belief, the love written across his features, and the overwhelming sincerity in his eyes. The sudden surge of gratitude that swelled throughout the length of his body and mind almost knocked him sideways with its power.
“It’s because of you, you know,” he replied with feeling, meeting his father’s eyes and sharing the depths of emotion that he felt with his closest living relative. “You and mum. I owe you both so much.”
Reynard gave a sudden lopsided grin as he gave his son’s shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “It can’t have been all us. After all, I will never understand how a pair of old Hufflepuffs like your mother and me managed to produce a son that is such a Gryffindor.”
Remus smiled in spite of himself. “I’m sorry to be such a disappointment to you.”
Rey returned the smile as he patted his son’s shoulder a final time and turned quietly to resume the final stretch of their long walk towards a place that was rightly appropriate for such a day.
“Oh, don’t worry,” he said with a jovial mock despair that broke the deathly seriousness of moments before. “I’ll get over it.”
* * *
Courtroom Ten was filled to bursting point. Cheerful figures in their best clothes, figures to whom this place, this feral, meant nothing but a spectacle, laughed and chatted amongst themselves.
Only those who knew the pain were silent, sombre and lost in thought.
In the corner, beside a quiet little door that led from holding cells, Aurors jerked to attention. In the centre of the room, an officious little Ministry aide stood on his tiptoes before the carefully erected transparent barrier that protected the guests from both the prisoner and his executioner and waved his arms for silence.
A chill cold touched against the souls of every person in the room. The laughter sharply died.
It was almost time.
The door opened.
* * *
The glade was silent.
Remus allowed his eyes to swept wordlessly over the still clearing before him, a small uneven opening beneath the canopy of trees, marked by small scrubby tangles of undergrowth and a small rounded crater-like hollow smoothed across with snow whose slight puddling of water towards the centre was already beginning to solidify back into ice. The leafless trees brooded fitfully around its borders, stirring only occasionally in the breeze.
In short, it was an ordinary woodland clearing. There was no sign but the long healed over remains of the spell blasted crater to imply the life changing events that had passed beneath its gaze more than thirty years before.
Remus shivered. But in that moment, there was no chill wind.
“Here we are.” Rey’s voice reverberated gently against the towering trunks. “Full circle.”
The wind curled gently across the silent glade, stirring loose snow and vibrating the thickets with a woody rattle. Neither man moved. Neither man spoke.
“It’s at three, isn’t it?” Reynard’s words were spoken softly, gently, carefully emotionless as his eyes remained fixed upon the snowy ground before him and the unseen ghosts of the past. Slowly Remus nodded.
“Yes, it is.”
There was a gentle rustling of robes. A moment later, Remus heard the distinctive click of his father’s old pocket watch being opened. In spite of its rare excursions from its box in the study, Remus knew that his father had always ensured that this watch kept perfect time.
“It’s just gone five to.”
Remus said nothing. There really was very little to say.
The quiet ticking of the watch drifted with quiet regularity along the softly gusting breeze for a few yards, only to be swallowed gently but firmly by the silence. Two pairs of ears did not care to hear it. Two pairs of eyes were lost in visions of the past and faraway events of the immediate future.
The wind trembled leafless branches in a gentle wintery sigh.
“There but for the Grace of God go I.”
Remus was hardly aware that he had spoken, his gaze lost to the distance, his words a low murmur of thoughts escaping out loud but they earned the sharp attention of his father.
“Never.” There was a deep strength that belayed the quietness of that single word. “We just covered this, Remus. It would have and will never happen to you.”
“It could have done.” Slowly, softly, Remus turned his gaze to meet his father’s. “If not for your memory charm, it would have done. I would have been a feral, dad. A killer. Oblivious to everything that matters.”
Rey quietly shook his head. “You fought it off, Remus. I just gave you the opportunity.”
Remus sighed as he turned his eyes once more to the snowy glade before him. “It still feels rather too close for comfort,” he said softly. “If Kane had escaped with me as he planned, it might have been me receiving that Kiss today for killing you and mum.”
Rey rubbed his gloved fingers gently over the little pocket watch resting against his palm, its rhythmic ticking marking out the steady march of time. “But it’s not, Remus,” he replied, his words low but firmly determined. “It didn’t happen and so it doesn’t matter. There are two ways to deal with the curse of lycanthropy. He chose the wrong one. You chose the one that makes me proud.”
Silence reasserted itself gently over all but the soft ticking of the watch. Time crept steadily onwards.
“Abel.” The name shivered as it was cast from Remus’ lips to dance upon the wind. “Do you think he could have been saved?”
Unmistakable pain, the etched outlines of years of guilt and regret flickered across Reynard’s face.
“It’s far too late now,” he replied softly, emotions riding the gamut in his voice. “It’s been too many years. What remains of that human boy, if anything, will be crushed and twisted beyond repair beneath the weight of the wolf. But in the past…perhaps.” His voice caught slightly as his fingers closed around the pocket watch with sudden sharpness. “Perhaps if we had taken him in, things would have been different. I won’t deny that the thought has crossed my mind more times than I would ever be capable of counting. But then again “ as his eventual actions showed, Abel Isaacs was never the most stable of children. It’s more than possible he would have found other ways to ruin himself given time. It certainly wouldn’t have surprised me. He seemed to hold the very worst of both his parents.” His deep sigh gusted out onto the winds. “Not to mention of course, that if we had taken him in, we would have almost certainly never had you. And cruel as it sounds, that isn’t a trade that I could ever willingly make.”
He stared absently towards the sky. “So perhaps, once,” he concluded, his voice echoing with the sorrow of the years. “But once he gave himself to the wolf, he was lost forever. There was no going back after that.”
The dull, watery light of the sun faded slowly away, leeched by the enfolding presence of brewing snow clouds. The wind whistled abruptly in protest.
The watch ticked on unconcerned.
“I miss Rhea.” Rey’s voice shivered with the strength of long emotion.
Remus nodded quietly. “I miss mum.”
“So do I, Remus. So do I.”
And then with a tinny trio of chimes that seemed to echo and reverberate through the silent trees with a gravitas unbecoming to such a sound, Reynard Lupin’s pocket watch struck three.
A whispered vibration, a tremble of remembered pain seemed to trace its way around the crescent moon of tooth scars across Remus Lupin’s side. A moment later it was gone.
Remus closed his eyes. He heard his father’s sigh whisper through the icy air to vanish on the breeze.
It was done.
It was over.
At long last, after so many years, it was over.
And they had triumphed, some would say. They had lived through trials and adversities that would have broken other men to come to this place at this moment on a cold and silent Sunday. But somehow, standing in a freezing glade on a leaf-stripped hillside with his crippled father, the inevitably fading memory of his mother and the full moon lurking as ever and waiting to draw him once more into its thrall, it felt a hollow victory in a war that Remus had never asked to fight.
To his left, he saw his father rub an absent hand along his crippled leg. There were tears in his eyes.
Uncaring of solemnity, the brass pocket watch resumed its tick anew. Time moved on.
And so should he.
The realisation was gently abrupt. It was over. This chapter of his life was closed. And it was time to move on.
And he had much to move towards.
He still had his father. He still had friends. In spite of the best efforts of many, including himself, he still had his students and his job. He still had his home. He still had the Order. He still had work, important work, yet to do for the good of the wizarding world.
And he still had himself.
And he would stay himself.
And that was the most important thing of all.
He felt a gentle touch against his arm. He looked up and found himself staring into Reynard Lupin’s tear-touched eyes. His father gave a tentative smile.
“Let’s go home, son,” he softly said.
Remus gently returned the smile. “Apparating?”
Rey shook his head. “I feel like a walk.”
Remus nodded quietly, his eyes running quickly over the difficult ground that lay along their route back to the path. He offered his arm.
After taking a moment to tuck his pocket watch away into the folds of his cloak, Reynard quietly accepted it.
They shared a soft smile.
And then, side by side, they turned and left the glade behind them, treading over their old footprints as they started down the hill for home.
And in their wake, the gathered clouds released their burden. Gently drifting whiteness spiralled downwards and remade the snow anew.
THE END.
A/N: Well. That’s it. The end of Oblivious.
*wipes brow* Well I don’t know about you guys, but I’m exhausted! ;)
When I started this fic, way, way back at the beginning of July 2004, I had intended it to be a short little fic, a quick exercise to renew my energy to write and bolster my flagging interest in my perpetually unfinished fantasy novel. I thought perhaps, twelve chapters, and a couple of months and that would be that.
42 chapters, 272 pages of Word, 151,603 words and six and a half months later, here we are.
I am not, perhaps, the best person in the world when it comes to estimating time and length….;)
But I have enjoyed writing this fic very much indeed, firstly because it was simply fun in spite of chapters of author-tormenting conversations (*cough* 19 and 41 *cough*) and chapters-that-would-not-die (I think chapter 32 turning into chapters 32-40 is probably the record) and secondly because of the wonderful response I’ve had from all of my lovely and intelligent reviewers. Thank you all very much indeed “ you’ve made this a wonderful experience for me and I’m very grateful. I am an unashamed feedback junkie and you’ve all made my ravenous ego very happy….;)
Now “ this is not the end. Oh no. For I have now begun work upon a sequel to Oblivious, called Imperius that I shall begin to post in the near future. In the mean time, for those of your who bemoaned the fact that I decided to leave Remus and Tonks as just friends during this fic, I’ve also done an adapted version of chapters 37 and 38 as a separate fic called In From The Cold, which is my first attempt at a romance (eep!). The first two parts might seem a bit familiar as they are re-jigs of what I had already written with a few fresh scenes inserted and the romantic undertones heightened, but the third part will be all new and with a very different outcome. :) So look out for those! :)
I’d just like to thank you all very much again for reading this story and making my first journey into Potterverse fanfiction such a pleasant one. In the *fingers crossed* hopefully not too distant future, I look forward to coming back and doing it all over again. :)
Thank you all! :)
But for now, this is Pallas and Oblivious signing off…:)