29: What Lies Beneath
“Cymone! Cymone, get up!”
The shrill note of terror in Felisha’s voice seemed to vibrate against the icy chill that had race through Remus’ nerves as the shivers of coldness from the Dementor’s presence flowed towards them. It had been their only chance “ a good patronus, a rapid exit and a desperate dash for relative safety beyond “ but Cymone’s utter refusal to uncurl her cowering body from around a nest of cleaning materials in the corner of her hideaway had thwarted that scheme before it had even been tried.
And now it was too late. There was nowhere to run.
It was in the corridor outside. Aside from running directly through it, the only route of escape they had was now blocked.
Oh Merlin. Now what?
Remus fought to suppress waves of cold, blind panic and despairing hopelessness “ he struggled against the surge of negativity but found the memories he summoned in his mind’s defence bleached of colour, of warmth, of happiness, tainted by sourness and shadows of his past. He saw James and Lily’s Potter’s laughing faces contorting into death masks, Sirius’ smirk fading into a shocked expression as he vanished through the veil, his mother pale and lifeless, his father old and broken, Tonks bloodied and limp…
Stop it!
He longed for his wand: at least then he could have mustered some semblance of a defence. But there was nothing he could do, nothing, no way out, no protection, no escape…
He felt hands grasp his shoulders, startling him violently. An instant before he instinctively lashed out, he realised that it was Felisha. The researcher appeared abruptly at his side, her face ashen, the fingers that gripped her wand shaking almost uncontrollably. Her eyes were almost wild.
“We have to hide!” she exclaimed frantically. “Remus, we have to hide!”
Hiding was pointless in the face of a blind creature than sniffed out prey by their emotions “ of that Remus was certain. But what else was there to do? It would be at least reassuring to have some kind of barrier between the Dementor and themselves, some manner of physical protection…
“It’s all right!” It was a blatant lie “ Remus was feeling about as far from all right as was possible “ but Felisha’s expression implied that she was teetering close to the edge of hysteria. “I’ve faced them before! If we get out of its reach, we’ll be fine!”
Felisha did not need to be told twice. After a last horrified glance at her companion, she hurled themselves into the cramped cupboard beside the silently screeching Cymone. A moment later, Remus had joined her as he firmly yanked the door shut behind them.
But solid wood could not deflect the chill.
Severus Snape’s terrified teenage eyes as they stared into the Shrieking Shack and the burn of deadly instinct, of the scent of blood, blood, fresh blood, human flesh to sink between his teeth… Alastor Moody’s shocked expression as grief and rage and alcohol overrode his senses…Rage boiling inside his mind as he stared into Abraham Kane’s mocking eyes, listened to his malicious boasts of taking Diana Lupin’s life “ he longed to tear, to bite, to kill…
Stop it!
Furiously, Remus clamped his teeth down against his lower lip, ignoring the coppery taste of blood that flowed into his mouth as he fought to control the flood of violent memories that surged across his mind, the sick feeling in his stomach and the horrifying desire to turn and rage and mangle. Felisha’s single glance, illuminated in the thin light that arched through the crack in the hinge, was enough to tell him of what he already suspected “ this was no ordinary Dementor of misery and strife.
This was the Dementor that had consumed the feral soul of Abraham Kane.
This was the feral Dementor from Level Six.
But how in Merlin’s name had it got out?
Felisha’s shaking hand pressed against his. He could feel the smooth wood of her wand against his fingers.
Yes. Yes!
Struggling desperately against the tide of violent thoughts, Remus dredged his desperate mind in search of a happy memory, of something, anything that might launch a Patronus in their defence. He thought of Harry, his face triumphant, snatching the Golden Snitch out of the air as his Prongs-Patronus rode out for the very first time to smite Draco Malfoy and his friends… But then suddenly he was looking at an older Harry, his green eyes wide with despair and horror as he fought against his former teacher’s grasp, yearning towards a fluttering veil and a Godfather lost forever and Tonks was there too, lying slumped and broken where she fell, her face covered in blood, so much blood…
Dammit!
Rattling breaths, closer, closer. The Dementor was in the boardroom…
Furiously, he searched again and this time he alighted on Tonks laughing face in the bar of the Three Broomsticks, her eyes flashing wickedly as they battled away in a gloriously juvenile thumb war… But then she was battling Death Eaters and tumbling head over heels to slump into his arms, her eyes shocked, her robes soaked in blood, so much blood…
Oh for Merlin’s sake…
Happy memory, Remus! Happy memory, happy memory, happy memory…
But nothing would come. The moon was too close and violence too strongly on his mind.
Cold washed through his body. Closer, it was coming closer…
I have to think of something good. I have to think of something good…
Blood. Blood was good. To bite, to tear, to kill, to scatter limbs and taste the tang of bitter heat as blood washed down his tongue, flesh between teeth, skin ripping as claws slashed down…
No!
This isn’t going to work. I can’t do this. It’s too much, too close…
He glanced almost desperately at his companions. Felisha’s pale face told him that she was having little more luck. And Cymone’s quaking form would be no use at all.
And they’re easy prey. Trapped. So easy to kill them both, to bite, to taste…
“What the bloody hell is that doing in here? The boss said it was to be taken downstairs to join the others!”
The sudden voice startled Remus profoundly and Felisha’s jump against his shoulder told him that she had been equally started. Her brown eyes met his, caught in the sliver of light, and told him more eloquently than words that this voice was no one she knew.
There was a stranger in the Institute.
“Look Gibbon, have you ever tried to control one of these bloody things? We were trying to take it downstairs but the cursed creature doesn’t want to go.”
Make that two strangers. And the mutterings of assent added more.
But one was not so strange to Remus. He knew the name Gibbon too well from Alastor Moody’s briefings.
There were Death Eaters in the Institute. Death Eaters and Dementors.
For Remus had no doubt who Gibbon’s others were.
It seemed tonight was the night for all of his worst fears regarding the Institute to come true. Voldemort had clearly decided that the time had come for his Imperiused werewolf army to begin its hunt. And he was trapped here with them.
And if he got caught, he would be one of them.
Outside the door, a debate was raging.
“Do you want to do this?” The second voice was declaring hotly, although the shake that underlay his tone implied that he was having as much difficulty dealing with the Dementor’s presence as the hidden three behind the door. “It just wandered off down here instead of taking the stairs. We tried to herd it back but…”
“I don’t want to here your excuses.” Gibbon, it seemed, was not a man of patience. “Take it and get down to Level One before the boss comes up to find out what the delay is.” He chuckled hollowly. “You know as well as I do that you wouldn’t like him when he’s angry.”
There were a few half-hearted snorts of assent. The second Death Eater huffed impatiently. “Just because he has a schedule…” he muttered irritably. “What about the sport he promised us? When do the games start?”
Gibbon laughed coarsely. “As soon as this thing gets downstairs. That’s when we can fetch Lupin and wait for the fun to begin. I just can’t wait to see that self-righteous werewolf bastard’s face in the morning.”
There was a quick burst of laughter. But it was hurriedly swallowed by the cold.
The silence heaved.
“Tighten those restraints.” Gibbon’s voice was also rife with a strained edge now. “And get that thing were it should be.”
“Come on, Dementor.” There was a slightly mordant note to the second man’s voice. “This way for your dinner.”
Footsteps departed into the corridor once more. Slowly, agonisingly, the cold ebbed away.
And then all was silence once more.
They waited for almost a minute. But there were no footsteps. There was no sound.
And the cold was gone.
Remus felt better than he had done since leaving his cell. It must have been lurking around for a while. No wonder I felt so strange.
“Has it gone?” Felisha’s voice was a mere whisper.
Remus nodded gently. “I think so. But there’s only one way to make sure.”
And so he opened the door.
The boardroom looked unchanged from moments earlier. Ironically, Remus wished he could say the same about their situation.
Felisha appeared abruptly at his side. “I don’t know who they were,” she exclaimed slightly breathlessly. “But they aren’t from the Institute and they definitely shouldn’t…”
“They’re Death Eaters.” Remus’ quiet sentence cut off the rest of her words. “I’ve come across Gibbon before. Death Eaters are controlling the Institute.”
Felisha’s face paled, if possible, even further. “We have to get out of here.”
“I think we knew that already.”
“But now it’s a little more certain and a lot more urgent.” Felisha grimaced. “I don’t like the sound of sport.”
“That makes two of us.”
“And if they’re going to come and get you soon…”
“…Then they’ll realise I’m gone.” Remus finished the sentence with a grim frown. “And all Hell will break loose.”
Felisha sighed deeply. “Still the front door?”
Remus met her gaze with weary resignation. “Unless you’ve come up with a better idea.”
Felisha’s eyes flicked towards Cymone. The assistant was still quivering in a heap in the cupboard, lower lip vibrating like a flag in a hurricane. She looked barely able to stand, let alone make a stealthy flight for her life. “What about Cymone? Do we take her with us?”
Remus sighed deeply. He had nothing against Cymone whatsoever but right at this moment, when stealth and discretion was required in spades, he could not see her being anything but a burden.
“Well, we can hardly leave her for the Dementors and the Death Eaters, can we?” he said with profound weariness. “We’ll have to bring her along.”
Felisha was eyeing Cymone with a similar expression. “I agree. But leave her to me. Two more words from you and we’d probably end up having to drag her as a quivering wreck. You’re the mad feral, remember?”
Remus was only too happy to comply. “She’s all yours.”
With a subtle eye-roll, Felisha turned and stepped over to where her colleague remained cowering in the cupboard.
“Cymone?” she ventured softly with a smile. “Cymone, come on now, we have to go.”
Cymone didn’t budge. Her head shook vigorously, her eyes darting from Remus, to the door and then back into the safety of her hideaway.
So much for softly softly.
Felisha’s lips tightened, her shoulders abruptly firmed. Remus knew her Prefect look when he saw it. “Cymone,” she said more insistently. “Cymone, come on we really don’t have time for this. We have to get out of here before somebody else comes.”
But Cymone just scooted a few more inches back, wrapping her arms around her knees as she shuddered.
So much for tact.
Felisha’s jaw hardened, her eyes suddenly sharp. “Cymone.” This tone was one of outright command. “Get up.”
But the command was ignored but for Cymone’s silent lip quivering beneath Felisha’s glare.
Patience was thinning. And it was becoming obviously that little but blunt bullying was going to do the job.
And so Felisha bullied.
“Cymone, so help me, if you don’t get up, I will tie you up and float you down the stairs upside down until I can find a laundry chute to stuff you down. Up! Now!”
Bullying it seemed, was the key. With a startled shudder, Cymone staggered to her feet and stepped out of the cupboard, her eyes wide and terrified, her legs vibrating like shaken jelly. She was white as a sheet. A moment later, her fragile legs folded as she slumped back to the floor.
Remus sighed. Felisha joined him.
In the face of Cymone’s imminent crumbling, Felisha opted for a slight moderation of tone.
“Look,” the researcher ordered sternly. “We have to go and you’re coming with us one way or another.” At Cymone’s silent gasp, she sighed. “I’ll lift the silencing spell in a moment. But you have to promise me “ absolutely promise “ that you won’t shout again. Remus isn’t dangerous and all we want is to get out of here. Don‘t do that again and we’ll take you with us. But,” she flourished her wand with menace. “Kick up another fuss and so help me, I’ll stun you and leave you here for whatever may come. Understand?”
Remus regarded the researcher with a certain admiration. “Nice threat.”
Felisha flashed a smile. “Thanks. Now, you…” She turned on Cymone. “Do I have your word?”
Cymone’s expression continued to quiver. But then, slowly and reluctantly, she nodded her head.
“Good. Sonorus.” Cymone gasped loudly and started to open her mouth, but a glare from Felisha quickly closed it again. Awkwardly, Rebekah’s assistant clambered to her feet and reeled over to join them.
“Good. Now let’s go.”
With an uncomfortable glance back at Remus, Felisha pushed Cymone gently towards the door, propelling the podgy assistant with as much force as she dared. Moving quickly, Remus followed them as they headed into the silent corridor, listening for sounds of company, but for now at least, they seemed to be alone.
But for how much longer? And just what had happened to the rest of the Institute staff?
Just what did she know? He glanced at Cymone’s pale features, her shuffling gate, the uncertain nervous jerking of her fingers and her nose. For an instant, he fought back a wave of oddness as he stared at her twitchy movements. There was something so very familiar, so very prey-like about her…
No. Stop that. It’s just your imagination…
Focus. This was no time to be indulging fears.
“Cymone,” he said, in as soft and un-threatening manner as he could muster. The assistant jumped profoundly at the sound of her name but she did glance backwards without dissolving into hysterics for a second time.
“Y...yes?” she stammered awkwardly.
Well at least she hasn’t collapsed yet. Remus decided to start gently. “Why were you in that cupboard?”
Cymone trembled. “I heard…s...s…something. I was scared and I h…h…hid. I thought you might be…”
“Thought we might be what?” Remus and Felisha spoke almost as one.
Cymone gulped. “W…whatever took the others,” she managed shakily. “D…Dr Croll sent me to his o…office to get some notes and when I came back…” She swallowed again, harder. “W…when I came back, everyone was just gone. A…and then I h…heard someone coming and I hid.”
“Us?” Felisha asked, her voice now milder once more.
“N…n…not you. I saw a black cloak. And t…they weren’t voices I knew. S…so I stayed in the cupboard. After all, with P…Professor Goldstein just v…vanishing… I…I thought…”
Remus and Felisha exchanged a long, worried glance that clearly spoke of Death Eaters.
“You did the right thing,” Felisha reassured her moderately. “We won’t hurt you, Cymone. But the voices you heard, the men in black cloaks? They would.”
Cymone swallowed hard. “I…I’m sorry I got s…so upset. B…but it’s all so h…horrible.”
Felisha breathed out, hard. “You can say that again. And that’s why we need to get out of here.”
Reception, when they reached it, was thankfully deserted. The grills that lead to the stairwell and the lift, the former open and the latter sealed, glinted in the pale light.
Felisha’s eyes flicked from one silver grill to the other. “Lift or stairs?”
“Lift.” Cymone piped up before Remus had the chance to speak. “It’s quicker. Much quicker.”
“And more confined.” Cymone ducked her head as Remus intervened. “And easier to be trapped in. At least on the stairs you can run.”
Felisha nodded. “I agree. We take the stairs.”
Cymone was staring into the dark and unlit shadows of the stairwell with distinct unease. “C…couldn’t I take the l…lift and you take the s…stairs?”
At Felisha’s long, slow look, she groaned slightly. “Stairs,” she repeated wearily.
“Come on. I’ll take the lead.” Remus moved forwards before Felisha could protest, placing one foot gingerly onto the top step and glancing back. Reluctantly, Cymone moved forwards to follow him. A moment later, Felisha took the rear.
Darkness surged around then. The silence deafened.
It was not the most pleasant of journeys. The only source of light to guide their steps came through the grills that punctuated every level, a pale sickly illumination that did not so much light their ways as dull the shadows. And each grill was a new delay for each had to be checked for guards or Death Eaters or Dementors before passing by and risking the grimness of discovery.
But each level was deserted.
“Where are they?” Felisha’s whisper drifted softly from above and behind as they made their cautious way past the grill on Level Three and started down the next dark stairs. “Where is everyone?”
“I’m not complaining.” Remus’ voice was a hush of breath. “As long as they aren’t all waiting at the bottom.”
“I wish I knew that Avin was safe.”
There was a tremulous note to Felisha’s tone. Remus sighed softly as he quietly stepped onto the next half-landing and turned the corner down the last set of steps to Level Two. “I wish we did too,” he replied gently. “But we’re doing the right thing. We’re no use to him here. We need to bring…”
His voice tailed away. He stopped dead.
And grasped the banister sharply as first Cymone and then Felisha piled into the back of him. His toes teetered for an instant on the edge but thankfully he did not fall. A moment later, Felisha’s fingers dragged him back to safety as her curly head appeared at his side.
“Remus, what…?” she started but the rise of Remus’ pointing finger negated the question.
“See for yourself,” he replied.
Felisha followed his gaze. And gasped.
For at the foot of the steps lay the wand-sealed hatch that had so nearly proved their downfall weeks before.
And it was open.
“That can’t be good.” Felisha’s lips spoke the words that were passing through Remus’ mind. “That just…can’t be good.”
A quick survey with both magic and eyes established that yet again, the corridor beyond the grill was empty. Certain now that it was safe to proceed, Felisha and Remus abandoned the bemused Cymone at the top of the flight of stairs and moved quickly down to investigate.
The initial survey established little more than they had already observed.
“The hatch has been opened,” Remus stated rather redundantly as he examined the flimsy locking mechanism that the released wand seal had exposed. “And…” At his gesture, Felisha stepped back slightly, her wand raised in a protective manner as Remus carefully braced his hands against the edge of the hole and slowly eased his head inside. “It looks like an ordinary enough laundry chute,” he reported, his voice echoing hollowly against the metal plates that lined the drop, falling away into darkness beneath him. “I can’t see anything out of…”
“Lupin?”
Remus froze. Had he just heard…?
“Lupin!” Dear Gods, he had just heard. “Lupin, is that you? Lupin, get us out of here! Lupin!”
The voice came from far below, vibrating in a tinny manner against the walls of the chute that surrounded him, twisting, tumbling upwards to touch distorted against his ears. But Remus recognised it instantly and Felisha’s gasp at his side told him that she had recognised it too.
Oh Great Merlin, what on earth is going on?
He opened his mouth to reply. “Rebek…”
“Incarcerous!”
He felt his arms slam to his sides, the course burn of thick rope as it whipped across his skin, binding his arms against his torso and smacking his ankles together. He tried to cry out but the rope had already slapped across his lips, silencing him instantly. He heard a brief, female squeal, felt the slump of a weight across his back as the first voice screamed “Accio wand!” and then a hand shoved against his back and pushed inevitably forwards.
Headfirst, Remus Lupin plunged down the laundry chute.
Pain, sharp and rapid assailed him bruisingly as he bounced against the hard-edged walls, tumbling, careening, head over heel and then suddenly there was space, there was air and he was hurtling frantically downwards until the solid floor stilled him with a bone-crunching impact. Even as he gasped, groaning against his bindings, another heavy weight smacked into his stomach, driving the wind from his lungs.
He opened his eyes and stared up into the terrified, bewildered and equally bound up face of Felisha Hathaway.
And then came hands. Small and gentle, they eased the two bruised tumblers apart, teasing the ropes from their faces and mouths as they eased them slowly upright.
Remus looked around him. It wasn’t an especially large room, grey walled and windowless just as the rest of the Institute was. But its most outstanding feature was its notable lack of a door.
Apart, of course, from the bodies.
They lay all around him, slumped in varying postures, eyes closed, their breathing shallow. A quick glance was enough to spy Zelia Phelan slumped in a corner, Unwin Dempster face down a few yards to her left, Alexander Aylward lying on his side against the wall and in the middle of the floor, Avin Falconer and Arcadius Croll lay motionless side by side. There were others there, faces Remus had seen but never spoken too, all dressed in the various coloured robes of the different departments of the Institute, all unconscious, all still. And in the far corner, curled whimpering and alone was…
Remus stared. Stared in horror. Stared in terrible realisation.
Cymone Wrigley lay curled in a ball, her plump features wasted by apparent long-term neglect, her glasses gone, her hair no longer dyed bright red but her natural reddish-brown, cut and hacked in hagged clumps, leaving only the occasional stray curl.
Stray curls just like the one in Polyjuice drawer.
It wasn’t Rebekah. It wasn’t Rebekah they replaced….
Oh no. Oh no, no, no…
Hands loosened his ropes once more. And this time, a face came to join them.
Rebekah Goldstein smiled at him wanly. Her face was pale. Her eyes were haunted.
“Well, Professor Lupin,” she said, her voice uncharacteristically soft. “I think this is one family reunion we could have both stood to miss.”