“Lucius I’m glad you could be here for our little, get-together.”
“My lord, I come as soon as you call me, I am always by your side.”
“Thank-you Lucius, your loyalty shall be rewarded.”
-or else faithful through fear.
“Death Eaters I introduce our newest recruit. I trusst you shall make him- welcome?”
A low murmur of respect reverberates around the circle, but the effect is entirely ruined by the weak and shivering wreck in front of me.
“Yes my Dark Lord, I am, er, grateful that I can be- of service, to-”
“Do learn some etiquette boy, or I shall have to have someone teach you.”
That did have the desired effect, a whimper, then silence. How easily the Gryffindor is broken. I’d rather a brave Slytherin than a selfish Gryffindor, but his information will prove more useful than he ever will.
“I shall speak to you tomorrow, and I hope I shall find you more presentable.”
Perhaps I shall dispose of him, when it’s all over, once the prophecy has been fulfilled. The rest of the circle is much the same, aristocrats cool and polite, others fearful and some simply stupid- knuckle-cracking Crabbe and gormless Goyle- but I have use of their brawn. For each I have a few words, bait, to remind them why they serve me and no other. Towards the end though, one man, just more than a boy, breaks the monotony.
“Severus,” my little enigma.
I find I can think of nothing to say to him. Why is he here? Not fear, though his rigid body reveals he is afraid - No, apprehensive. He is waiting to hear what I will say. Wait, Severus, my snake. - Nor does ambition lead him to my side. He does crave respect, but does not expect to find it here, or anywhere. A grudge, that’s all that brought him here at first, a schoolboy grudge and schoolboy pressure in a house where he was far from popular. The feeling he’s been wronged rages through him, too much for this cold-blooded snake to understand. Injustice was a sting for me, for him a driving force. I understand he must not know that Pettigrew is here, not yet. It would only end in tears and blood, and some imaginative curses. A fitting end for Pettigrew though, perhaps when it’s over…
Still he stands with his greasy head bowed, and I have an urge to see his face. I’ll find an answer in his eyes, and discover what to say.
“Severus”
I wait for more, and it’s like waiting for a verdict and a sentence. Either I’m a faithful Death Eater who will be rewarded for his services, or else I am a turncoat spy and deserve, crucio, this pain and it will all be over in a flash of green. The pause drags on, he must suspect. I desperately want to be able to see what he is doing. Is he unsheathing his wand to torture and destroy me? Make me an example to his Death Eaters? But I keep looking at the ground, I’d be a fool not to.
Finally he makes his move, unpredictable as ever. He chucks me beneath the chin- I almost flinch at cold long fingers on my face- and lifts my head. A grandfatherly gesture, more Dumbledore’s style, not expected of this ageless half-man. A sudden vivid fearful vision strikes me- he is going to tilt back my head and not stop, I’ll see inky darkness and full moon, feel his cold snake-skin on my chin, hear a crack, my own neck, and that will be my end. A gasp will echo round the ring of Death Eaters, hastily hushed, and they will all stand tense, to attention, as Voldemort lets go of my face and lets my limp body fall awkwardly to the ground, calmly continuing his rounds.
But he stops before my neck cracks. Stops so I must look levelly into his eyes. My own are popping slightly. I must look like a fish. I briefly shift my eyes away from his, to give myself the time to prepare; as I should have been all along, not visualising gory ends, but this is not the time to chide myself.
Clear your mind.
I pick a memory and let down the barriers, so much stronger than he realises. A memory of him, because I know he loves to see himself reflected in my eyes. Himself in all his glory, exultant as I hand over the prophecy in hushed tones, selling them, selling her, to him. But he mustn’t see down that road. I show him Dumbledore. Dumbledore old and frail because I know the contrast will please him. Dumbledore worried and unusually afraid, but he has a plan, he opens his mouth to speak- the rest of this memory cannot be seen and I grasp for another, reject one, another one, and finally settle on a dark green common room, and a whisper of the Dark Lord. It’s ready, it’s prepared- but he stops; satisfied, sated.
“You must let me know how the old muggle-lover is doing, Severus.”
I let a sneer grace my lips, and his mouth curls up in a cruel half-smile. His dark form moves on, and I let my head hang once more. Let it be over soon, let it all be over.
“Sirius reckons we should use Peter as the secret-keeper.”
We’re packing again, third time in a month, and James has just returned from Sirius, who had Dumbledore’s message to move on, and other ideas apparently. I warily match up tiny socks.
“But I thought Sirius wanted the job- I’ve never doubted his courage.”
“Oh no, that’s part of the plan- Voldemort expects it to be Sirius, and we’d carry on as though he had been made secret-keeper. It’s a bluff- the Death Eaters follow Sirius and Peter can go into hiding without anyone noticing a thing.”
His eyes are shining and he throws his red and gold underpants across the bed at me, playfully. I’m pleased to see him happy and confident, of course I am, but it unnerves me on some level as well. I’m reminded of his younger self, carried away with Sirius’ enthusiasm, planning some prank or escapade- and they didn’t always work out, the four of them spent a fair amount of time in detention. I just hope the same youthful arrogance doesn’t flaw his judgement now.
“Charming. Are you planning to tell Remus?”
That scuppers his grin, as I knew it would. We’ve had a silent agreement not to mention Lupin for the last few weeks, and I feel cruel to bring it up, but I have to know he’s thinking clearly, that he remembers he can be mistaken. He soberly folds up his dress robes, and for a moment I worry I’ve gone too far, he’s not going to reply. He puts the robes in the suit case and sits on the bed, with his back to me. He looks old.
“I know.” He sounds old too, but strong, my husband. “I know I was wrong about Moony. I thought he was- I still- They must have threatened him or forced him- he’s vulnerable. And weak, around, full moon. But I know I was wrong. And I promise you my darling-”
He turns around, and I can’t believe I thought he seemed old, he’s young, too young, he’s vulnerable, I crawl across the bed to cuddle him close.
“- I won’t make such a mistake again. You and Harry- are the most important thing,” He murmurs into my hair and I kiss his neck.
“But Sirius- Sirius is family. He’s my brother, he’s Harry’s godfather, he’d never, ever betray us. And he trusts Peter, and I trust Peter, and the Death Eaters probably won’t even go after Peter anyway. They’re still my friends, I can still trust them?” I know he’s trying to sound strong but it comes out as a question.
“Of course you can. I know you can, I trust them too my darling. And I know about Remus as well. He was a good man, a good friend, and they just got the better of him, because they’re evil.” I try to comfort him, but what can I say? “I mean, he was the only one of you lot I liked all along!” A weak chuckle. It’s a start. He was the only one I was friends with before me and James. He was sensible, quiet, a rock. “None of us could’ve known. There’s no way we could know. But we’ll be all right now. And once Si- Peter is secret-keeper we can move to Godric’s Hollow and it will be over. No more moving around. And we keep on fighting with the Order and Voldemort will never get near our son.” We’re lying down by this point, and for a moment we are both calm. We could be asleep. He draws one deep breath- a world weary sound.
“You’re right. Of course you’re right my dear. I’ll finish packing, you get Harry and we’ll go.”
The moment is gone and we both stand up and carry on. We don’t have enough time to relax. Not yet. But it will be over soon. I bundle our baby boy in his blanket, and hold him close. Harry Potter- the one with the power to conquer the Dark Lord, the one I love more than life itself. We’ll protect him from Voldemort, both of us; we’ll protect him from that responsibility by making it our own. He stirs in his sleep, aggravated at being moved, again. He’s getting used to these moves in the middle of the night though; sometimes he doesn’t wake up at all.
“Don’t worry my boy, it’ll all be over soon.” I hope. I pray.
I carry my baby over to my husband by the fire.
The wolf rages in the cage.
Full moon alone. First full moon alone in years. The wolf rages against the bars of the old, daunting, familiar cage, in the cellar of the house of my parents. I’ve no control at all, just a tiny corner of the back of my mind to think my own thoughts , the wolf has taken over my body, its body. Of course, I knew it would, and I know what to expect, I’ve been through this so many times. The wolf will throw itself around its too small cage, bite itself, scratch itself and I’ll feel all that pain, just like so many times before. Somehow the experience is even more terrible than when I was a child, the marauders have protected me for too long.
The wolf runs headlong into the bars across the door, skull dented
But their not here now are they Remus? Where are your friends to save you now? The hatred of the wolf overspills. I hope it’s the wolf’s hatred, I really do. But they’ve left me now. It hasn’t been the same for many months. I could feel their suspicion however they tried to hide it. I heard the muffled whispers. A spy. A spy in the Order, a spy in the marauders. Suddenly all their prejudices, the ones they’d put aside for years, the ones they’d faced and beaten so many years ago, came back to haunt them. Guiltily they wondered, Remus, he is a werewolf, a dark creature inside him, a dark wizard. So I distanced myself from them, and they from me. We carefully avoided each other in the daytime, hadn’t had a proper conversation in months. They were just trying to protect themselves, protect Lily’s child. I understood and forgave them, because they were all still there at full moon. I kidded myself that they always would be, no matter what, the marauders would ride under the full moon. I thought their suspicion could never drive them to let me face this pain alone. Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot and Prongs. Until last month, just Moony and Prongs, and this month: Moony and the wolf.
The wolf chews its hindquarters, drawing blood
Do you know what they think of you Remus? They think I’m evil. They think I’m weak. They think I would sell them out, to Voldemort. See them all killed to save myself. They think I could bear to lose them. Sirius’s laugh, his bark, Peter’s giggle, his paws and claws in my fur, James’s mop of hair, his stag’s silhouette against the full moon and the forest. I couldn’t live without all that. And I will have to. They think they’re safe away from me, but they’re not. Because I’m not the spy, and never will be. It’s one of them, one of them would sell us all, the impossible truth. I was so sure it could never happen. But they’re all capable of betrayal. They betrayed me.
The wolf claws at its own ear ripping
The pain’s too much. They betrayed you Remus. Searing pain through the haze of the wolfish mind. They hurt you Remus, it’s their fault. Let it all be over.
The wolf lies exhausted.
The moon begins to set.