A/N: Ghost writing for the Daily Prophet today will be my beta Chriss Corkscrew who, having labelled my first attempts at journalistic bile as "far too well balanced", promptly wrote her own version and proceeded to prove that she is indeed a far better Tabloid Hack than I am...;)
34: Exposed
It was the light of advancing morning tickling the edges of his face that finally drew Remus once more back into the realm of the living. For a moment, he simply lay, eyes closed, ignoring the aches in his body and the persistent but easing tiredness of his mind and enjoying simple sensations he had for a while suspected he would never feel again; the soft, chilled breath that brushed his cheek from the slightly open window to his right, the soft, crisp rub of sheets, the sound of the gentle swish of the concealing curtains around his bed, the distant creak of the wind catching trees all but stripped of their leaves by autumn’s fall and the strident sound of his father’s voice venturing into vocal territory that Anti-werewolf protestors everywhere had learned to respect at a distance…
Dad?
Remus opened his eyes. Quickly.
“…don’t know how you managed to weasel your way past the Aurors at the gates and frankly I don’t much care. I also don’t know where you got this information, although to say I don’t care about that would be a gross misstatement since I have every intention of tracking down this reliable source of yours who sees fit to break my family’s trust and feeding him piece by rotten piece to my menagerie!”
Oh no. He knew that tone. That tone meant trouble. That tone meant danger. That tone rippled with a powerful undercurrent, an undercurrent that proclaimed quite fluently: I’m not going to hurt you at this moment. For this instant in time you shall be tolerated. But set one millimetre of a toenail out of line and I will make your ancestors wish they had never been born.
It was also a tone that said: if Remus doesn’t do something soon, I’m probably going to kill you in the very near future.
Great.
Oh Merlin, why me? Why now?
Only a severe burst of pain prevented Remus from making a dramatic leap of out bed. He got as far as flinging back the sheets before blossoms of agony throughout his legs and torso made their presence very much felt and stalled his attempt at motion with a reasonably agonised expression and a lip bitten firmly against whimpering. Even a high pain threshold had its limits.
Moving gingerly and with a great deal more care as he muttered phrases of which Poppy Pomfrey would have certainly disapproved, Remus settled temporarily for resting his feet on the floor and listening with apprehension. It was only then that he realised, to his surprise, that the angry voice was not coming from beyond the curtains shrouding his bed at all. It was coming from outside the window.
“..if you think I have any intention of allowing you or any of your kind to bother my son with your intrusive, insensitive questions after all he’s been through, then you are even more stupid than you look and my dear, that is saying something. Now, I suggest you make a very rapid escape from my sight before I escort you up to the Astronomy Tower and hang you by your earlobes from the battlements as an example to others. Am I making myself clear?”
Oddly enough, the phrasing did not worry Remus too greatly. What really concerned him was the round of applause.
Gritting his teeth with ominous determination, Remus pulled himself to his feet and stumbled the requisite yard to the Hospital wing window. The sight he beheld made him wish he’d stayed in bed.
Reynard Lupin was leaning with deceptive casualness against the wall of Hogwarts castle, one hand, which was grasping a crumpled newspaper, extended to rest against the stones in a relaxed concealment of the necessity of supporting his crippled leg. The need for such support was apparent in the fact that his cane was extended out in his other hand at arms length before him, rather occupied in burying its tip into the gaudy spectacled nose of reporter Rita Skeeter. A rapidly gathering audience of children, who had apparently caught sight of the spectacle out of the window on their way between classes, appeared to be cheering him on.
Oh dear gods. Don’t encourage him!
Rita sniffed, not an easy feat under the circumstances as she clutched her crocodile skin handbag almost reassuringly. “Mr Lupin,” she managed awkwardly, flashing his father an incredibly insincere and ever so slightly patronising half-smile. “I just want to get the facts. Surely the public has a right to know…”
“My family’s private business?” Reynard cut sharply across her words, the tip of his cane forcing an abrupt silence. “I fail to see why anyone should be privy to that who has not been directly told by either my son or myself. To have taken such a liberty already, to make such ridiculous claims and now to come sniffing around for more…”
There was genuine anger in his father’s low tone and genuine distress; unaware as he was of the cause, Remus knew it was definitely time to put a stop to the show.
“Dad.”
Reynard looked sharply over. There was an abrupt silence amongst the onlookers. In spite of the threat of imminent violence, Rita Skeeter’s eyes lit up.
His father met his eyes. “You shouldn’t be on your feet,” he told his son firmly. “Bed rest means staying in bed, Remus.”
Remus manfully resisted the urge to roll his eyes. “Funnily enough, I was having trouble sleeping,” he commented dryly. “There were these voices outside my window…”
Reynard had the grace to look embarrassed. “I didn’t mean to disturb you.”
“I know.” Remus sighed. “But I think we need to have a word in private, don’t you?”
With a recalcitrant frown, Reynard nodded and turned sharply to his bespectacled nemesis. With a sharp prod of his cane, he sent her stumbling backwards.
“Off the premises,” he declared coldly. “I mean it. If I catch you lurking around again, you’ll be wearing that handbag up your right nostril. And I’ll let you imagine what’ll be going up the left.”
With a final flourish of his cane, Reynard turned and limped with straight-backed dignity in the direction of the main doors. The crowd parted respectfully as he made his way up the steps, watching as he nodded politely to the black robed figure that had just appeared through the doors and was eyeing the cluster of children with distinct irritation. Severus Snape inclined his head, if only barely, to the father of his colleague before he turned his attention abruptly on the suddenly nervous gathering below.
“Don’t you have lessons to go to?” he drawled with an arctic glint in his eye. “You recall, perhaps, that you are here to learn? If I find any of you still outside in ten seconds from now, I will personally deduct fifty points from the house of every student I lay eyes on. Move!”
The crowd dispersed with astonishing speed. Snape’s gaze fixed for a moment on the lurking form of Rita Skeeter, her nose painted with a bright scarlet welt, and his curled his lip with disdain.
“And you, Madam, are not welcome,” he intoned frostily. “I suggest you remove yourself before either the headmaster or Mr Lupin return.” His eyes flickered towards the window where Remus still lingered; an odd look that seemed to mingle fury, resentment and uncertainty flashed across his face. “Lupin,” he acknowledged with stiff dislike.
Remus inclined his head in return. “Severus.”
The gesture went unnoticed. Snape had already swept his way back up the steps and vanished into the school.
The intensive gaze of eyes drew his attention back to the winged glasses and swollen nose of Rita Skeeter. She was eyeing him in a manner reminiscent of a vulture circling a particularly juicy carcass.
“Professor Lupin,” she exclaimed, flashing a mouth full of teeth as she fumbled in her handbag for her notebook and Quick Quotes Quill. “Do you have any comment you’d like to make? An exclusive interview perhaps? A few words from the controversial werewolf teacher regarding his harrowing fight to bring down the feral that…”
Her voice tailed away sharply under the sheer glacial weight of the glare she received; Remus then politely graced her with a half-hint of a deathly smile.
“Go away,” he stated softly, but his mild, low tone concealed the force and weight of a rampaging Hebridean Black. “Shoo.”
Rita’s smile dissolved like a badly planned potions experiment.
“But…” She started. There may have been more, but the emphatic closing of the window mercifully concealed it. With a sigh, Remus allowed himself to slump backwards onto his bed and wearily closed his eyes.
He did not rest for long. The scrap of curtain ring upon curtain rail and rustle of paper announced the arrival of his father.
Stretching with a wince, Remus pulled himself into a sitting position as he pointedly ignored his father’s look of disapproval as he fixed the older man with a steely stare of his own.
“Well?” he queried softly.
Reynard sighed deeply. “Before you say another word,” he said wearily. “I think you’d better read this.”
He extended a crumpled bundle of newspaper. Accepting it with a small frown, Remus gently smoothed back the crinkled newsprint, caught a glimpse of the front page and froze.
Staring back at him, from the front page of that morning’s edition of the Daily Prophet, was his badly scarred and miserable-looking three-year-old self. It was the picture from Kane’s Ministry file.
The headline above could not have made things plainer.
WEREWOLF FEUD ENDANGERS HOGWARTS.
Feral Captured By Former Victim!
Remus struggled to breath. This couldn’t be happening. How could one of the most personal, most terrible, most private moments of his life have just been splashed across the front page of a newspaper for the entire wizarding world to see? And how the hell had the Prophet got its hands on that picture? Those files were supposed to be confidential!
His eyes were drawn with grim inevitability to the report below. Just how much did they know?
Abraham Kane, brutal murderer, feral werewolf and alleged Death Eater, currently languishes in ministry custody after the dramatic events at Hogwarts during last Friday’s full moon, writes Rita Skeeter. Whilst this can only reassure our readers, the Daily Prophet can exclusively reveal that the relationship between Kane and Remus Lupin, the controversial werewolf appointed by Albus Dumbledore, eccentric Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry against the wishes of many in our community, is far from innocent. We can now expose the dark past of Lupin, not simply as another werewolf, but as one that was sired by Kane during his malicious vendetta against the Lupin family.
The feral’s vicious solo attack on the students of Hogwarts school, aided, some may consider by the questionable judgement of Albus Dumbledore which left our children virtually unprotected in the face of a Death Eater attack, culminated in a shocking fight between the two beasts which severely endangered the students. Indeed, rather than protect the innocents from Kane, the supposed teacher chose to act out his frenzied revenge against his lifelong enemy.
“They were just biting and ripping and clawing at each other,” sobs one young Hogwarts student, fingering his green tie nervously, “He’s meant to be our teacher and we just had to fight off the beast ourselves.”
A reliable source for the Daily Prophet reports the germination of this rivalry to lie with the actions of Reynard Lupin, retired Exterminator for the Ministry, who, in 1962, was involved in a botched sting operation that resulted in the death of Kane’s infamously brutal mate, Hel. Kane’s swift retaliation not only targeted the Lupin family, kidnapping and biting the child Remus and crippling Reynard, but also the other members involved in the incident, resulting notably in the brutal murder of Orestes Bevan, Auror, with his wife and children earlier the same night.
“The turning of a werewolf is a pivotal moment,” a lycanthropy expert explains to our readers, “The mental state of the victim, the circumstances under which transformation first takes place, these affect a victim throughout the remainder of their unhappy life. It is possible that revenge on Kane has driven Lupin throughout his life, in his travels and in his career. Single-minded. Blinkered to his revenge. Such a bloody feud may only be ended through a frenzied fight to the death, something that Lupin has now been denied.”
However pitiable the circumstances surrounding Lupin’s lycanthropic origins, this paper urges Dumbledore to reconsider his appointment of a werewolf to the Defence Against the Dark Arts position at Hogwarts. Taking this evidence into consideration, such action is necessary not only to reassure the wizarding community that the blatant ferocity behind this vicious conflict will not reappear towards another victim, perhaps even a student at the school, but to make certain that a known werewolf with violent tendencies is not changing the curriculum to suit his own ends and that of his kind. It must also surely be acknowledged that there has been no proof connecting Kane with He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named accept in the word of Professor Lupin himself. Similarly, on both occasions Kane has been sighted in the vicinity of Hogwarts, it has been Lupin he has been found fighting with. Surely this cannot be a coincidence. This reporter concludes that the You-Know-Who connection may be nothing more than a cover up for a long standing blood feud between these werewolves that has placed our children in mortal danger. We must ask ourselves whether this is a suitable man in whom to place the care of our children, a known werewolf with a secret vendetta of his own, and whether Dumbledore should be made to account for his irresponsible appointments that only ever seem to endanger the lives of our students…
The report continued through several more paragraphs in the same vitriolic vein. By the time he had finished reading, Remus felt physically sick.
It could have been worse, he tried to tell himself. It was only the bite that Rita Skeeter had uncovered “ there was no mention of his mother, or Abel Isaacs, or god forbid, his feral incidents. But that did not change the fuel that the reporter had hurled upon the fire. And it certainly would not alter the consequences of the blaze.
Dawlish for one would be lapping it up.
“So may I go and finish her off now?” Reynard requested with humourless smile as he settled back down at his son’s bedside. “I have some ideas involving your mother’s old potion kit and a Grindylow I’m sure you’ll approve of.”
“I’ll hold her down.” The younger Lupin handed back the paper, his mind reeling with an odd mix of subdued anger and weary resignation. “Who told her?”
Reynard’s features flashed with brief, undirected fury. “We don’t know yet, but Alastor’s already looking into it. He’s promised me that when he does find out, he’ll beat the loud-mouthed fool to death with his wooden leg and let me kick the remains. But satisfying as that will be, it’s not going to erase this morning’s paper.”
That was undeniably true. Closing his eyes with a weary sigh, Remus allowed his head to drop against the headboard of his bed with a small thud. His skull was suddenly pounding and his stomach rolled. Too good to be true. He should have known.
“Twice,” he muttered bitterly. “And from the same job. That’s got to be a record. I thought I’d at least last the term…”
He heard his father’s sharp intake of breath. “What do you mean?”
“Isn’t it obvious?” Remus could feel sharp regret and weary acceptance tangling inside his chest. “I was on shaky ground to begin with and there’s no way I’ll be able to stay after this. No one will trust me; and they certainly won’t want me endangering their children with my wicked werewolf feuds. I’m going to have to…”
“Resign?” The soft familiar voice broke gently into his sentence. “I think not. Not this time.”
Remus abruptly opened his eyes. The gentle blue gaze of Albus Dumbledore stared back from the gap in the curtain’s curve.
Remus immediately shook his head. “How can I stay? The governors…”
“Have already spoken on the matter.” The headmaster gave a twinkling smile as he stepped quietly inside the protective swath of curtain. “And given that there are several hundred students in this castle who can and will willingly testify to the fact that you were most emphatically locked out of the Great Hall when Abraham Kane made his appearance and that he was clearly targeting Harry Potter on several occasions during the ensuing incident, I cannot see how anyone can claim that he was possibly there due to you. And given that those same students will also attest that you at no point showed any inclination to harm them and only involved yourself in fighting Kane in order to ensure their escape, I think Miss Skeeter’s assumptions can be safely discredited. The governors have no objections.”
“The Ministry….”
“Mr Dawlish will be made to see reason.” There was a note of ominous steel to the old headmaster’s voice. “Have no fear on that account.”
“But the children…”
“Are mostly of the opinion that Rita Skeeter is, to quote young Mr Weasley, talking a load of bloody troll-dung. I believe there is already a petition going around to persuade you to stay. Harry Potter knows you rather too well, I suspect.”
Remus flushed slightly. “Am I that predictable?” he murmured awkwardly.
“Just honourable.” Dumbledore smiled again. “And that is no bad thing. And so it is with deep regret, Professor Lupin, that I must inform you that no resignation will be accepted. You will serve the duration of your contract and, I would like to hope, beyond it.”
“I’m pleased to hear that.” Reynard caught his son’s gaze with a wry smile as he turned towards the headmaster. “The last thing I need is him mooching round the house again, cooking edible food, using my study, tidying up things that don’t need to be tidied, shedding on the living room rug…”
Remus half-heartedly swiped at his father’s arm. “I thought I was better than the housekeeper.”
Reynard openly grinned. “That shows you how bad that blasted housekeeper is.”
A thought occurred. “Don’t tell me you’ve left the poor woman to look after your menagerie. You know she hates that shed and everything in it.”
His father looked vaguely offended. “Mrs Wenn may be a patronising, overbearing excuse for a witch who treats me as though I’m crippled in the brain instead of the leg, but I’m not that cruel. Old Lanark said he’d drop by and feed them. It’s good of him really “ the Isle of Barra to Devil’s Bridge is a heck of a way to apparate at his age.”
A frightening mental image danced across Remus’ mind. “Angus Lanark? Your old workmate? Eighty years old, eye-patch, kilt, tendency to cackle and chase after plump middle-aged women?”
Reynard said nothing. He merely grinned.
Remus sighed deliberately, fighting desperately not to smile at the visions of a possible encounter that his imagination was conjuring. Mrs Wenn had been known to make sniffy comments about werewolves on several occasions.
“That was nice of you,” he commented blandly.
Dumbledore was smiling too. “It’s good to know these things are in hand,” he remarked mildly. “But since my business here appears to be concluded, I think it is time for some more entertaining visitors. Mr Potter, Miss Granger, Mr Weasley and Mr Longbottom have all been very anxious to see you. They have been positively pestering poor Madam Pomfrey for news.”
Remus glanced at his headmaster with a frown. “Shouldn’t they be in class?”
Dumbledore’s eyes twinkled. “I believe they are currently scheduled to be in a Defence Against the Dark Arts lesson. Unfortunately their teacher is a little indisposed. I felt under the circumstances that they would be under appropriate supervision here.”
Reynard rose awkwardly back to his feet. “And I think I’ll stretch my legs a little more, if you don’t mind. I’m all seized up from sitting in this chair half the week and my last stroll was rather interrupted.”
Remus gave his father a suspicious stare. “Don’t kill her. When it happens, I want to be there.”
His father nodded with a show of reluctance. “That’s only fair. See you later.”
Dumbledore nodded. “Remus.”
“Albus.” Remus followed his gaze, his eyes fixing at once on a cluster of four anxious faces being herded into the hospital wing by a reluctant Poppy Pomfrey.
And then suddenly, unexpected, Remus found himself swamped with apprehension. Faded memories of the scent of blood and fear tugged at his mind, visions of terrified white faces and the brief, terrible moment when he had contemplated turning on them and tearing them to pieces. They didn’t know, of course. They couldn’t. But Remus did, and the very thought filled him with self-disgust and fear. How could they not tell what he had become? How could they not treat him differently after the way they had seen him behave?
The last time he had seen these children, he had been a monster. What would they think of him now?
Harry caught his eye and gave a tentative smile. He was carrying a large bundle of paper.
Bracing himself as much against his own sense of self-consciousness as against the opinions of the children, Remus managed to smile back. But inside, his stomach was churning. Harry, Ron and Hermione were a slightly different case, of course “ they had seen the wolf before. But on that terrible night, it had truly been the wolf they had seen, a monster that shared their teacher’s body, not their teacher inside of a monster. In a way, his actions had been excusable then“ they had known and been able to tell themselves that it hadn’t really been Professor Lupin anymore. But this was different. He had been Remus Lupin inside and they had known it.
And they had watched him scrap with another werewolf like an animal.
And as for Neville and the rest of the school…
They had known now of course, his students, about his condition. But now they had seen him. Now it was real.
He could still remember vividly the looks on the faces of James, Peter and Sirius on the day he had returned to the dormitory after their first night of seeing him transformed. Oh, they had not openly treated him differently, but there had been a look in their eyes that was unmistakable, a look that hinted of fear and awe, of pity, horror and apprehension all tangled unavoidably together. Until that night, Remus the werewolf had been an abstract concept for them, known and imagined but never really understood.
And now that look would linger in the eyes of half of the students of this school.
Would they still accept him? Would they treat him any differently?
He was about to find out.
A/N: The newspaper report was an extra idea I had on the day of writing this chapter. It was only supposed to be a little precursor to the chat with the kids but it was so much fun to do that it developed a life - and a chapter - of its own. I just liked the idea of getting a glimpse of public opinion - and of course seeing Rita Skeeter get a cane jammed up her nose...