Chapter 22 – Full Moon
History of the World Volume XI Chapter 6 The Rule of Turpin – Werewolves
Lycanthropy did not always carry an automatic order of execution upon diagnosis. For several years a coalition of Healers worked to find a cure to this dangerous condition. Their conclusions, that the curse could not be reversed, only mitigated, resulted in the current more stringent laws. Several advocates have come forward to defend the infected, most notably...
Small and weather-worn the Lupin’s cottage looked like nothing more than another Muggle hovel crouching unobtrusively in the wilderness. Behind the rough hewn wood of their front door, clean carpets and soft furniture belied the exterior. This was a wizard’s home, maybe not an important or powerful wizard but someone with the wherewithal to charm a decent light fixture anyway.
Nyt sat nervously on the edge of a floral print sofa, acutely conscious of her road-worn clothes that she had been unable to mend properly in weeks. Evading the hounds of Vociferor meant no spell-work, not even a little Reparo or Scourgify to freshen the wardrobe.
Samuel Lupin, a tidy man with grey hair and brown eyes, watched her from his shabby leather armchair. His fingers laced together on his lap and he didn’t smile. His clean white shirt and starched grey pants, seemed to judge her and her bedraggled attire with their smartness. Nyt made herself smile weakly. “So, nice house you have here.”
Samuel shrugged. “It’s adequate. How long have you been running with my son?”
“Oh, we’ve been travelling together for a few months.” Remus hadn’t exactly taken much time to introduce her to his parents or explain their situation. He needed to consult with his pack’s healer, preferably before the full moon tonight. The healers would be busy patching up themselves and their pack after a night howling and hunting, and would have little time to discuss curse marks and their removal tomorrow.
“Sunset is imminent. Moonrise won’t be far behind. Would you like to see the basement?” Samuel asked. “I find it’s best to get a guest locked in early rather than late.”
“Locked up?” Nyt asked, slightly horrified. “You want to lock me in the basement?”
“Of course, you don’t expect us to let you transform in the sitting room. I assume if you were welcome with Remus’s pack he would have taken you with him tonight. You won’t be able to roam the woods here safely. Or do you have another idea?”
“No, you don’t understand; I’m not a werewolf.” Nyt pointed to herself and smiled weakly. “Plain old witch, no curses, well that curse mark, but not a real curse, definitely not lycanthropy. Not that there’s anything wrong with being a lycanthrope. I mean not that it’s a pleasant condition either.” She gestured vaguely feeling stupid. “You know what I mean.”
For the first time, Samuel smiled at her. “Yes, I think I do. Why don’t you tell me how you met my son?”
“I hate this stupid dress,” Hermione muttered under her breath. Much like last year’s Halloween festivities everyone had to attend a formal party, shed their regular clothes, and dress up. The old elitists wanted to view the baby elitists. And to make it all simpler for the more bigoted ones you could spot the group home kids by the stupid matching robes and colour coding.
Hermione considered transfiguring the yellow bodice of her dress just to be contrary, but her classmates would probably just think she was being vain or ashamed. Instead she stowed her wand in a pocket and crossed the hall to the boy’s dorm.
Ron had donned the yellow accented school issue robes like last year. Dressed similarly, Harry was in deep discussion with his partner, Draco. Choosing to ignore the plotting boys, she joined Ron. “Solidarity again?” Hermione asked. “You can wear your own dress robes. I wouldn’t get mad. Wearing the school robes will just confuse the gawkers.”
“Why do I care what anyone thinks?” Ron asked, secretly hoping Hermione never found out how frilly the robes his mother sent with him were. He liked that she thought he was being supportive. “Do you know what they’re up to?” Ron jerked his head toward Harry and Draco. “I can’t get anything out of them.”
“Don’t know, don’t care,” Hermione half-lied. If Harry wanted to be best friends with the enemy and make secret plans with the enemy that was his business. When he figured out how stupid he was being, she would be there... to ridicule him unmercifully for the lapse in judgment.
“Time to line up!” a shrill voice in the hall called.
Harry and Draco finally broke away from their whispered conversation. Draco smirked and headed for the hall, while Harry scuttled over to join Ron and Hermione. “You look so guilty,” Hermione glowered. “What were the two of you talking about?”
“Nothing important.” Harry straightened his tie and grinned, knowing that Hermione could read him like a book, but unable to tell her the plan. Lisa and Draco were unwilling to invite anyone else on their werewolf adventure, and he couldn’t very well betray their confidence when the three of them were about to break a few dozen school rules. After the way their Christmas excursion had turned out, Hermione wouldn’t want to come anyway and would probably do her best to keep Harry out of the danger (fun) too. “We should get in line, right?”
“Right!” Ron agreed. He herded his two friends toward the door before Hermione could work up anything hostile to say.
Picking his way through the woods at twilight, Remus had no trouble moving soundlessly. His senses were at their sharpest pre-transformation. The deeper he travelled into the closely packed trees, the scents of his pack mates began to find him. One wolf, then three, then eight, circled him--gently herded him toward their encampment.
The acrid smell of smoke and blood reached him, and his fellow wolves finally made themselves seen. Remus knew these men and women. United by the curse in their veins, they were sworn to one another, close as siblings and sometimes as antagonistic.
“If it isn’t our little puppy, home to run with his big brothers and sisters.”
Remus turned to the man who’d addressed him, and smiled thinly, acutely aware of their dissimilarity. This man wore his lycanthropy differently; the wolf swam closer to the surface. Sporting barely human eyes and elongated teeth, he would never be able to pass for normal like Remus managed daily. “Thanks for the welcome, Aaron, everyone.” He nodded politely to the group around him, which earned him laughs and some polite nods in return. Remus felt his own wolf stirring in their presence.
“I need to see Marigold before moonrise.” Remus addressed Aaron, the current alpha, careful not to hold eye contact with him for more than a moment at a time.
“Are you ill then?” Aaron asked. “Walk with me and I’ll take you personally.”
Remus knew better than to fall behind when his Alpha took off at a graceful lope. This close to the full moon, no one could be held responsible for losing control at the slightest provocation. Hundreds of smells assailed him as they cut through camp, so many wolves together that their scent became an amalgam he forever associated with this second home.
“She’s busy so be quick.” Aaron grinned ferociously and pulled the flap to a frayed red tent open. His Alpha’s smile said everything unexpressed between them. Remus wasn’t liked here. He was tolerated. A useful wolf who leashed himself between full moons and had enough training with a wand to pass for a full wizard, he brought their healer supplies and interacted with the world for them when necessary.
Remus sometimes hated his lot, unable to fit in truly with either humans or wolves. He could blame his parents for it, had blamed them for a few years after his expulsion from school. Law abiding citizens were supposed to surrender their children for execution if they were bitten by a werewolf. The more squeamish simply abandoned their unfortunate progeny to the nearest suspected wolf encampment and wished them good luck. His parents thought they could keep him, teach him. They thought he could be different, and he was so different that he became a disgusting half-breed in the eyes of all parties.
Remus ducked into the tent and waved to the healer he had travelled so far to consult. Wizened and stooped, she had only a few wisps of snowy hair left on her head. Myopic grey eyes squinted his way and she gestured him closer. She waved a surprisingly polished wand in a diagnostic spell without waiting for his complaint. Remus always felt comfortable with Marigold, the only other wand-trained wolf in this particular pack. She smiled a snaggle-toothed grin and tapped the mark over his breastbone.
“You escaped from Vociferor, my boy. Aside from that mark, do you have any other illnesses to report? Do you need a mind healer? I’m not trained in such things.”
“I wasn’t tortured; a rescue mission brought me there. The mark is my only concern. Can it be removed?” Remus asked. She had recognized his condition easily; perhaps she really could help him remove it.
“It will fade.” Marigold gestured dismissively. “Give it a few full moons. The wolf will not tolerate another curse on its host. Just be patient and you will be free again, as free as any of us are.”
Remus felt a moment’s relief before he thought of Nyt, waiting for him with his parents. She still needed a cure. “Is there another way to remove it? A witch I’m travelling with also bears the mark.”
Marigold stared at him; her clouded eyes alight with perception. “She will die with that mark, unless she wants to trade it for a new curse.”
His mind balked at the implication he read into that statement. She wasn’t suggesting lycanthropy as a cure? “You’re out of your mind.” Remus felt his wolf rising with his temper, his hackles stood on end, his fingernails thickened and sharpened. He bared his teeth in abject fury. “No one is biting her.”
“Then she will bear that mark. One curse or the other, I don’t have another answer.” Showing no sign that his outburst either surprised or frightened her, Marigold shuffled to Remus’s side and patted his arm. “Calm down now. The moon will be up soon and you can vent your frustration like a proper wolf.”
But he wasn’t a proper wolf. Remus sagged hopelessly. What if Nyt asked him to bite her? Could he really bite another human being? The wolf in him practically screamed yes. The wolf in him wanted nothing so much as a chance to taste human flesh. And the wolf was coming tonight. Remus staggered out of the tent, his blood feverish with wolfish desires, no different than the other members of his pack in that moment, he howled. The conflicted man, surrendering eagerly to simple instincts, he began to run with the other anxious lycanthropes, awaiting their full transformation and the freedom of their curse.
It was surprisingly easy to escape the Halloween festivities at school. Aside from the initial march in, no one was keeping track of the children. Harry and Lisa followed a step behind Draco as he led them back to the dorms. “My emergency Portkey will get us as far as home. The hunt is always on our estate. It’s one of the Sheriff’s primary responsibilities, executing the werewolves. The hunt is traditional. It’s been held for generations.”
“Not that I’m backing out,” Harry said, “but what’s to keep us from getting into trouble here. I don’t fancy dying or being bitten, thanks.”
Draco rolled his eyes. “The werewolves are caged to start. They’re only released after the transformation and it’s obvious that they are in fact infected. We’re going to watch the transformation and then we’ll get out of there before things get dangerous.”
“I can’t wait to see a werewolf up close,” Lisa whispered, an excited glint to her eyes. “They’re supposed to be incredibly powerful.”
“Don’t forget insane and deadly,” Harry added. “This should be significantly less boring than the party.”
Draco presented his two closest friends with a black scarf. “Grab on.” As soon as they complied, he muttered the activation phrase. “Security maximus.”
Transportation circles were the instantaneous transportation method of choice for most situations due to their smooth efficiency. Harry had never actually tried a Portkey before. The device seemed to drag him by a hook in his navel and tossed him roughly onto the thick carpet of Draco’s bedroom. “Ouch. Do you think we could take a transportation circle back?” Harry asked, face-planted in the carpeting.
Chuckling, Draco helped Harry to his feet. “First time using a Portkey?”
“How could you tell?” Harry stretched and rubbed his neck until the soreness began to subside.
“Can you walk and recover? Moonrise isn’t too far off,” Lisa asked, a hint of petulance in her tone.
Harry rolled his eyes. “Of course, lead the way Draco.” It wasn’t his first time at Malfoy Manor, but Harry still felt slightly awed by the sheer size of the dwelling. Only three people lived in the giant home. The group home wasn’t half as large and it housed a few hundred. The dorms had all been magically expanded to their maximum and the yard had to be used in shifts.
“Dobby!” Draco called. A short creature with bat-like ears and giant protuberant eyes appeared. It cowered in front of the three wizards as though expecting to be attacked at any moment.
Of course a giant home like this would have a House-elf. Harry smiled and crouched down. He had never actually seen one before. “How cool. You’re a House-elf.”
The elf stared back at Harry as though he were behaving very bizarrely. “Yes sir, Dobby is being master Draco’s elf.”
“He’s mine personally. Mother assigned him to me,” Draco said with a smug smile. “He has to do what I say and keep my secrets over anyone else in the family. Now Dobby, we are going to watch the werewolves transform. You are going to lead us there and make sure we get away undetected after watching the show.”
Dobby let out a soft shriek and covered his face. “Master Draco, werewolves are being dangerous. Master Draco’s father would not approve.”
“Whose elf are you, Dobby?” Draco asked coolly.
“Yours, Master Draco.” With a defeated sigh, the elf gestured for the children to follow him.
“Make us undetectable, Dobby,” Draco commanded before they stepped outside. “It’s elf magic, better than disillusionment. Dobby has helped me on adventures before.”
“An elf seems to be a valuable companion to have,” Harry remarked. The small elf looked at Harry again, eyes widened.
“Possession to have, you mean,” Draco said.
“Right,” Harry agreed.
Lisa just snorted and prodded their guide forward. “We’re going to miss it if we keep dawdling.”
Dobby lead them to a clearing but stopped while they were still in the shadows. He gestured toward a pair of metal cages and stepped timidly behind Draco.
Harry wasn’t sure what he really expected to see in the cages prior to moonrise. Perhaps feral men with spittle flying and untamed facial hair, he definitely expected something large and scary that hinted at the madness within. What they found was a boy and a woman. Looking scrawny and underfed, the boy stared up at the sky, calm resignation written on his features. He couldn’t be much older than them. The woman in the metal cage next to him, wept freely into her homespun skirt.
A pair of wizards, one Harry recognized as Draco’s father approached the cages. He slid a sheet of parchment into the cage of the woman and another into the boy’s. “If you can’t read, those are your writs of execution. Do you have any last words? It won’t be long now.”
The woman looked up, her eyes red-rimmed and desperate. “Please, please, I beg you, let my son go. He isn’t a wolf, not really. His father was a Muggle. He’s not infected. It didn’t pass on and he wasn’t bitten. It’s only me. Please? I beg you.”
“We’ll see when the moon rises, won’t we,” Lucius said.
The two wizards left, and the boy looked at his mother for the first time since their audience had arrived. “Please don’t beg for me like that. There isn’t any point. We’re dead. We can die with dignity. And we might even take one or two of the hunters with us. Maybe I will kill the one who killed Dad. That would almost be worth it.”
“Worth it?” The woman stood and howled like a wounded animal. “My dignity is worth your life. If there is any chance, I will beg until the moon takes me and the hunters crush the life from me.”
The boy shook his head and resumed staring at the starry sky, waiting for the moon. “There isn’t any chance, and you know it.”
Only a few feet away, three children who had come to be entertained squirmed in front of the show they had found. “They don’t seem so insane right now,” Harry said from his place in the shadows. “The book said that they’d be completely mad.”
“No, they aren’t mad. I’ve seen madness.” Lisa stared at the pair raptly. “You can’t always believe what you’re taught or what you read. Truth is seeing. This is a werewolf. They’re so ordinary.”
“They won’t be ordinary in a few minutes when the transformation happens,” Draco said. He frowned and shuffled his feet, uncomfortable with the turn his adventure had taken.
“I can’t watch this,” Harry said abruptly. He turned and started walking briskly back the way they’d come. What had possessed them to think this might be entertaining? He was glad that they hadn’t told anyone else their plan. Tonight felt shameful and disastrous. He just wanted to go back to school and forget that they had ever ventured out.
“Harry wait,” Draco called. He caught up to his friend and spun him by his arm. “I didn’t know it was going to be like that either.”
Lisa followed Draco but her expression remained impassive. “You don’t want to watch. So you’re going to run away? That seems a little cowardly.”
“You think it would be braver to watch?” Draco asked.
“It would be braver to unlock their cages and give them a head start.” Lisa smiled at the boys. “Or is that too much adventure for you?”
Would unlocking the cages accomplish anything? Maybe, maybe not, but the shame Harry felt called for some act of contrition. Harry met Lisa’s challenging gaze and nodded gravely. “I’m not afraid. How about you Draco?”
Draco raked his hands through his perfectly parted hair and looked nervously over his shoulder as though his father might be listening. “Fine, I’m in, but we do this my way. Dobby, we’re going to need a distraction.”