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Imperius by Pallas

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9: Vulnerable

“Oh Merlin.”

From her seat opposite him, alone in their warded compartment of the Muggle steam train, Tonks stared at Remus with wide eyes and pale features, her fingers twitching nervously with the papers of her clipboard. A narrow, winding valley flashed past the windows, casting flickers of light and shade across her face.

“You think that’s it?” she whispered softly, her tone rich with fear and horror. “You think that’s what the Death Eaters want with Kane? With the Institute?”

“I’m certain.” Remus leaned back wearily against the rather threadbare pattern that covered the seats, gazing at the passing landscape without really seeing at all, his mind lost to the prospect of potential horror that had so recently taken an unshakable hold in his thoughts. “Folke said Imperius first. He realised the awfulness of this as much as I have.”

Tonks was shaking her head slowly back and forth. “But it’s just Kane who’s vulnerable,” she said, a hint of something close to desperation edging her tone. “I know that’s bad but is one werewolf under an Imperius curse at full moon so much more dangerous than he would have been without it?”

Remus closed his eyes. “Possibly not. But imagine the prospect for Lord Voldemort “ creatures as dangerous as a werewolf at full moon on his side, but without the risk of them turning on their allies or handlers in the heat of battle. No need for bribes or tricks or promises “ one spell and they have a killing machine at their disposal that can increase their numbers with a single bite.” He fought down a shiver. “There are more than forty werewolves in that building alone, Tonks, and the Dementors are answering to Voldemort now. A few well-placed Kisses and the Death Eaters will find themselves with an army that are werewolves on the full moon, feral for the rest of the month and completely under their control.”

“And every full moon bite increases their ranks. Until we’re completely outnumbered.” Tonks swallowed hard. “Bloody hell, Remus. What are we going to do?”

It was a good question. And at the moment, Remus had no answer to it.

“I don’t know,” he replied honestly. “I suppose on our next visit to the Institute, we’ll have to…”

“Wait… what?” A look of unmistakable alarm flashed across Tonks’ features as she sat bolt upright. “What do you mean next visit?”

Remus gazed at her with frank surprise. “In a fortnight. Rebekah’s asked me to come back again. She says there are a few more things she’d like to try.”

Tonks’ fingers clenched. “I’ll bet there are,” she almost snarled. “Remus, weren’t you listening when I told you about that diary entry?”

Remus met her glare calmly. “I was listening.”

“Well then, perhaps you missed the subtle inference?” The Auror regarded him fiercely. “Need Lupin, acquire Lupin, talking about tests... It’s glaringly obvious, Remus; they want to do this to you.”

“I had spotted the implications.”

“And you still want to go back? To lock yourself in a high-security building full of people who want to suck out your soul and use you to kill?”

Remus closed his eyes, laying his head back quietly as he listened to the rattle and clunk of the trundling train. “I’ve thought of that, Tonks,” he said softly. “But if I don’t go back, what then? We have no proof we can take to the Ministry. No one else from the Order will be able to get access to the Institute in time. We are the only ones who can find that evidence or are in a position to do anything about it. It’s a risk for me, yes, but a risk I have to take.”

Tonks hunched forward, her eyes suddenly intense. “Then let me take the risk instead. Next time we go, you can polyjuice as me and I’ll morph into you. That way…”

Remus’ eyes snapped open. “No.”

“Remus…”

“Absolutely not.” It was Remus’ turn to sit forwards, his face now just inches from hers. “Do you think I would ever, ever agree to putting you in that kind of danger? That it’s somehow more acceptable for you to risk getting Kissed in my place?” He shook his head emphatically. “Out of the question, Tonks.”

Her eyes flared. “But I can’t protect you any other way in there!”

“I’ve never asked you to protect me.”

“I know that. But it doesn’t stop me wanting to.”

There was a long silence. Their eyes locked. Remus was suddenly, almost uncomfortably aware of how close her face was to his.

The whistle of the steam engine echoed the length of the train and Tonks jumped violently, spilling her clipboard and its loose sheath of papers across the floor of their compartment. Swearing fluently, she scrambled off her seat, forcing Remus to sit back hurriedly to avoid a clash of heads. She shot him an apologetic glance and he smiled at her as he leaned down towards the window instead, gathering a few loose sheets and a tatty little scrap of grubby paper that had drifted out from in amongst them.

“So bloody clumsy,” Tonks was muttering to herself as dropped back into her seat, grasping the untidy bundle of loose paper she had gathered in one hand and the weak clipped clipboard in the other. “I need to get a folder or something less spillable. No, hang onto those for a sec, mate, while I sort these out,” she added, forestalling Remus’ offer of the papers he had gathered. “It’ll just be more to drop again otherwise.”

Smiling, Remus settled back, glancing down as he placed the papers on his lap. They were mostly cover “ notes on werewolf research, on the history of the Institute and new theories about Wolfsbane, not to mention…

Bound. Trapped.

Remus froze.

There they were. Two little words, scrawled upon the tatty scrap that he’d swept up but barely noticed, written in a hand that shook so wildly that the script was hard to read. But it was also unmistakably familiar.

The wild handwriting on the potion and blood stained tip off note that Kingsley had shown him that first morning in the briefing after the death of Folke had been exactly the same.

“Remus?” Tonks had noticed his distraction, her heart-shaped face filled with curious concern. “What is it?”

He touched the scrap, lifting it and holding it up. “Tonks, where did you get this?”

For a moment, her expression was bewildered but then recognition flared. “It was in the diary!” she exclaimed. “It fell out under the desk when I knocked it off. I picked it up with my papers after I hit my head, but after that close call with Felisha I completely forgot I had it. Why, what…”

He handed it to her wordlessly. She took it with a frown, glanced down and froze just as he had.

“The tip off,” she whispered.

Remus nodded. “Which means the tip off probably came from someone in the Institute.”

Tonks blinked. “A trap?” she said at once. “To lure you there maybe?”

He shook his head at once. “Not me, I don’t think. The message was sent to the Aurors. Even if they knew of my links to you and Kingsley, how would they have known that any message would reach me?”

“Then a real tip off? From someone who knows what’s really going on and doesn’t like it? Or possibly can’t do anything to stop it?”

“That seems more likely. Especially given the sentiment of that note.”

Tonks swallowed. “A prisoner?”

“Possibly.”

She shook her head. “But then why would this have been tucked inside Rebekah Goldstein’s diary?” Her face paled slightly. “Unless the note-sender got caught by Rebekah…”

Remus gave her a long, slow look. “Don’t jump to conclusions, Tonks. For all we know, she sent it.”

“You’d think she’d be happier to see you. And that she’d have tried to say something in all that time you and she were alone.”

Remus shook his head. “Tonks, we don’t even know for sure that was her diary.”

“It was on her desk. Cymone put it in her drawer.”

Frowning, Remus reached down and rooted for a moment in his pocket. “Here,” he said, holding out the now rather battered and well-folded scroll that had provided his initial invitation to the Institute. “This was from Rebekah. How does the handwriting compare?”

Tonks ran her eyes over the crumpled paper. Her brow creased instantly.

“It was dark under that desk,” she ventured.

“Tonks…”

“All right, all right!” Tonks thrust the scroll back into his hand. “It doesn’t look the same. But we don’t know that Rebekah wrote that note personally!”

“She signed it.”

“But she might not have written it out. She’s got an assistant for menial tasks like that, remember?” The Auror pulled a face. “Remus, why are you being so awkward about this?”

Remus sighed. “You’re assuming she’s the Death Eater?”

“You’re assuming she’s not?” Tonks waved the note with a flourish. “Remus…”

Remus gave a long sigh. “I’m not trying to be annoying. But if the events of the last few years have taught me anything, it’s that one should never assume the obvious to be true. Look at Sirius. Everyone though he was guilty, didn’t they?” Tonks winced slightly and he managed a reassuring smile. “If we close our minds to other possibilities, we may become so caught up in our assumptions that we miss the truth. I’ll admit “ you have several very compelling points that I will bear in mind. But I’m sticking with innocent until proven guilty for now.”

Tonks cocked an eyebrow. “You have far too much faith, Remus Lupin. She has a wand-sealed drawer in her office and a diary containing secret notes about doing tests on you. She’s openly hostile towards you but keeps on inviting you back. And she cast the Imperius curse on Kane when any other spell would have done. That all sounds pretty guilty to me.” Suddenly she clicked her fingers. “Of course! That’s why she was so keen to find out if Kane recognised you! She wanted to be absolutely sure his feral half was gone! She must know the dangerous of Imperius on a werewolf, she’s an expert on them. And if some hint of the wolf had remained…”

“She’d have been injured by the backlash.” Remus completed the thought, trying to ignore the sudden cold chill in his chest. “Possibly even killed. She had to be absolutely sure her werewolf essence theory was correct before she could risk trying it for herself…”

“Exactly.” Tonks sat back with an emphatic nod. Her eyes were suddenly bright. “And they’ll need more tests,” she added suddenly. “Because she only Imperiused the mind of a deranged ten-year old. Who’s to say trying to Imperius the werewolf side wouldn’t be just as dangerous as it normally is?”

“They’ve a long way to go with this.” Remus’ voice was soft against the slowing clatter of the train as it approached the pretty little village station. “At least if we assume that really was the first Imperius she’s tried. They’ll need more tests. More werewolves.” His eyes hardened. “We have to find a way to get downstairs next time. To the residents level. We have to know what’s really happening down there.”

“The level that her diary says she wants you kept out of,” Tonks added, accepting the last of her papers as she came to her feet. “Agreed. Still think Rebekah’s innocent?”

Remus pulled a face. “Just let me keep an open mind, all right?”

“You do that.” Tonks grinned. “And I will remain suspicious, if that’s okay with you.”

“If you must.”

“I must. And my suspicious mind says she’s got a fortnight to work with. If only we were going back sooner…”

“There’s nothing we can do about that.” Remus rose too, pulling back the compartment door as they joined the gaggle of tourists stepping off onto the platform. “We know better than anyone that you don’t get into that place unless you’re invited. And you’re still assuming it’s Rebekah. A lot of people have access to that office. I say again - we don’t know the diary was hers.”

“I’m going to run checks,” Tonks declared, shuffling her papers as she followed Remus out of the platform gate and towards a quiet corner of the car park. “Rebekah, Croll, Cymone, Aylward, Zelia Phelan, Dolph “ even Felisha.” She shrugged apologetically but he smiled his wan agreement. “I want to know if anyone with access to that office has even so much as brushed past a Death Eater in the street.”

“Good idea.” An old fashioned car started up nearby with a shudder and a bang. “Come on, let’s get back to Hogsmeade. I think Dumbledore will want to hear about this.”

Tonks nodded, joining him as he stepped behind the concealing bulk of an empty white transit van. And then, as the classic car coughed and spluttered its way out of the car park, the two cracks of their apparation went quite unnoticed.

* * *

The full moon glowed deeply before it was swallowed behind the concealing bulk of clouds that sat over the mountains. But its influence was no less intense.

Remus stretched his lupine form from paw to tail tip, wishing heartily as he did so that the tension that strung his muscles taut could be attributed entirely to the stress of the change. But life was not so simple.

Dumbledore had absorbed their suspicions regarding Rebekah Goldstein and the potential Imperius cursing of werewolves with grave-eyed concern. But his assessment of the situation had echoed Remus’; there was distressingly little they could do until their next invited visit. With help from Kingsley, Tonks had devoted every moment she could sneak whilst at work to research the staff of the Institute but thus far she had not managed to dig up anything of relevance to the investigation. The profound distraction of a Death Eater attack on Muggle tourists in Devon had rather stymied her attempts to find spare time.

Remus, on the other hand, had not even had the consolation of investigating. With the help of Madam Pince, he had tracked down Rebekah’s book on ferals in the Hogwarts library, not to mention a dull and tedious tome on the physiology of shape-shifting species by Croll and he spent those hours not used to teach or mark trawling through in search of any glimmer of useful information. He had yet to find a thing.

And so, all things considered, Remus had found himself more than a little tense by the time Wednesday night’s full moon had rolled around. With that in mind, he had prepared himself carefully, taking his last dose of Wolfsbane promptly, wand-sealing his office door closed and placing his clothes and wand safely into a desk drawer. Aware of the necessity of remaining as calm as possible for an easy transformation, he had arranged his surroundings with intent for a relaxing night, laying out a plate of sandwiches in case he grew peckish, charming a music box to play the soothing tones of Fantasia on a Theme of Thomas Tallis on a repeating loop and placing Croll’s book open within reading distance “ even if he couldn’t be bothered to read it, he thought more with longing than any real intent, it would give him something to chew on. It was a nice thought but he knew deep down that the wrath of Madam Pince would be fearsome to behold if he were to dare.

And then he had opened the window slightly, settled down with a cushion under the gaudy yellow blanket that Molly Weasley had given him for his birthday and waited for the contortions of moonrise.

And they had come, as they inevitably did.

A half hour, perhaps, had passed now since the change. Remus had chewed half-heartedly at one of the sandwiches for a while and glanced down at Croll’s book for a few minutes before coming to the conclusion that he just couldn’t bring himself to care about anything it said. So instead he had closed his eyes, allowing the music to wash over him and lull him into the quiet of sleep. If nothing else, he needed the rest…

“Ow!”

A flare of light jerked Remus back from the dark abyss of sleep, punctuated by the sharp rattling of the door handle. Vaguely, he could hear voices.

“Look, he’s not moving! He’s not answering! The door is magically sealed! You heard what McGonagall and Dumbledore said! What if he’s been attacked? Alohamora!

As Remus blinked, the door flared again. There was another yelp of pain.

“Don’t think that’s helping, mate,” came a second, much sleepier voice. “Maybe he’s just dropped off at his desk…”

The music was sweeping once more through a stirring passage but it was not enough to obscure the familiar voices that had dragged him from his snoozing.

Harry?Ron?

“In the dark?” was the fierce reply. “And why would he seal the door?”

“Harry…”

Oh dear. Remus struggled to rouse himself as a voice pierced the wood of the door sharply. It was not an easy task. Half asleep and dozily forgetful of his present less than human condition, he started to call out but the resultant gruff bark was entirely obscured by the swell of the music. Not that it would have mattered as he routinely placed one-way silencing charms over his office door at such times of the month. Without his wand, nothing he could do would make Harry hear him.

And Harry, it seemed, aware from the Marauder’s Map that his teacher was inside but unable to hear his reply or enter the heavily sealed door, had for some reason jumped to the conclusion that he was in danger…

“Professor Lupin, are you all right? Professor? I know you’re in there, I’ve got the map! Are you all right? Why is the door locked?”

Wearily, Remus reminded himself to ask Professor Sinistra about Harry’s OWL Astronomy marks. He had clearly forgotten the current phase of the moon.

“Look, we’re coming round, okay? Just hold on! Ron, come on!”

Coming round? Remus wanted to cry out. Coming round to where?

The sound of running footsteps could be heard vanishing down the corridor. With a weary huff, Remus sank his muzzle into his cushion and slowly shook his head. Why on earth Harry had decided to come and see him at this time of night, he really had no idea. But if he hauled the castle into uproar over a mysterious attack on Remus that really wasn’t an attack at all…

Oh good grief. Snape will have a field day if he hears about this…

Once again, there was little he could do but wait for the inevitable and so wait he did. The room was dark now, the guttering lantern on his desk extinguished as he slept, the sun fully set, the moon lost behind thick tufts of Scottish cloud. The wind whistled softly past the open window…

The window. No, surely Harry wouldn’t…

Harry would.

He heard the approach of the broomstick just moments before a pale face crowned with scruffy black hair swept into view outside the window. Green eyes peered intently into the room as a poised wand darted into view.

Lumos!” The wand flared. “Professor Lupin?” he bellowed just as a second head, a dishevelled mop of red hair over a sleepy freckled face also hovered into view.

Remus stood up.

And with a considerable sense of timing, the moon chose that moment to slide out from behind its concealing cloud and bathe the scene in silver light.

Harry stopped dead. Ron blinked.

“Blimey,” he said.

Clearly being curled up on the floor with cushions and a Molly Weasley blanket, eating sandwiches, reading and listening to classical music was not exactly how Harry and Ron had expected a werewolf to pass the full moon. In spite of himself, Remus couldn’t help but feel vaguely embarrassed.

He considered smiling but was rather concerned it might appear to be baring his teeth. He settled for cocking his head in what he hoped was a friendly manner.

Harry’s mouth was working silently. He swallowed hard. “I…” he managed. “Professor Lupin, I’m really sorry, I completely forgot it was…” He gestured helplessly towards the gleaming moon. “I wanted to talk to you but… It can wait. It really can.” He gave an awkward frown. “I’m really sorry,” he said again. “I’ll just… go. Come on Ron.”

Harry’s dark head vanished from view. Ron’s lingered a little longer.

“I’ll tell mum you liked the blanket,” he remarked sleepily. “’Night, Professor.”

Remus nodded slightly as Ron too vanished back into the night before dropping quietly back onto his cushion and absently staring into the darkness.

Now what on earth had that been about?

Out of his vague sleepy memory, something stirred. You heard what McGonagall and Dumbledore said…Those had been Harry’s words. Just what had he overheard now? What was so urgent that he had come looking for him in the middle of the night?

He felt a cold chill. What had he found out?

He forced himself to calm. There was no point in worrying about it now. It wasn’t as though he could track Harry down and have a heart-to-heart with him in his present condition. Come the morning though…

Huffing wearily, Remus settled back down to the strains of his soothing music. But it was a long time before he fell asleep.