Chapter Seven. The Apothecary's laboratory was situated on the main street of the small village, although calling it a street was a bit of an overstatement

Culparrat

The Apothecary's laboratory was situated on the main street of the small village, although calling it a "street" was a bit of an overstatement. Remus Lupin had never actually seen the outside facade of the building, preferring to Apparate directly inside, in front of Mr. Jenkins's counter. The old man lived in two rooms above the shop, and was almost always to be found standing in his work area, managing two or three potions at once.

Remus was a bit later than he would have preferred this evening. He had not wanted to draw attention to himself, and had merely left a note for Harry, Ron, Hermione and Ginny saying that he would not be home for supper. None of them had seemed to notice the circles under his eyes and his short temper in the past week, and he was glad. The last thing he wanted was for them to start worrying about his problems in addition to all of the larger issues cropping up since the end of the war.

He had hoped that they would all have been able to enjoy a "normal" summer together - the kind that he could recall from his own childhood. He hadn't counted on Dementors and he'd tried to block the Death Eaters out of his head. And now Sirius was so busy that he'd barely spent any time with Harry. He'd even been too busy to perform his usual ritual of badgering Remus to let Padfoot remain with him during the transformation. Remus was trying to remain neutral and not bother Sirius about his current work hours, but Harry's disappointment at Sirius's absence from breakfast earlier that week had been evident, and Remus had resolved to say something to Sirius after the full moon.

And then there was the problem of work - as in, he had none to keep him busy. Sirius had been including him in the decision-making process over the site of the new temporary holding prison, and Arthur had been consulting him on a regular basis, but he still had no official title or position or income. Remus remained patient - after all - no one save Arthur Weasley really had any sort of a title at the Ministry these days.

So he had spent a good portion of the week investigating Draco Malfoy's appearance at Martin Lewis's house across the street. Ginny seemed determined not to let it bother her, but Hermione was clearly disturbed by Malfoy's arrival; she had spent most of the week indoors. Ron had been thundering around Lupin Lodge during the day wearing a falsely cheerful expression, while secretly peeking out the window at the Lewis House when he thought no one was looking. Harry spent a lot of time flying but seemed relatively calm over Malfoy's appearance. Then again, Remus reflected, he really had no idea what was going on in Harry's head.

Curiosity and a need to feel useful had driven Remus to Diagon Alley and the Ministry one day to investigate. He remembered Draco Malfoy from class as an intelligent boy with a typical Slytherin mean streak. Certainly the boy had seemed mild compared to his powerful and corrupt father and had thus far escaped any charges for war crimes, despite Lucius Malfoy's reputation and known involvement with Voldemort. He'd discovered that Malfoy Manor had been hit by a curse in the last days of the war in an attempt to destroy Lucius's cache of Dark Arts paraphernalia. The Malfoy home was now undergoing renovation and Narcissa and Draco Malfoy had come to stay with Narcissa's brother Martin. Remus hadn’t realized that Narcissa’s maiden name had been Lewis; Mad-Eye had provided this last bit of information over a drink in the Leaky Cauldron, winking as he asked Remus why he'd never noticed the attractive blonde growing up across the street from him. Remus had shrugged. He hadn’t noticed any attractive blondes because the Lewises had not been the occupants of the manor house in Remus's youth. He told Mad-Eye as much, and left it at that.

The previous owner of that house had been a werewolf...

"Ouch! Watch what you're doing, will you?" Jack Hughes held out a hand to steady himself on the counter; Remus had knocked into him slightly after Apparating into the Apothecary.

"Sorry," Remus apologized, straightening and looking around the room. Four other men, all looking as ragged and tired as Remus felt, were standing in the cramped space, shuffling their feet as Mr. Jenkins ladled a foul-smelling potion into goblets.

All of these men were werewolves, just like Remus. They were also all wizards. They came from various parts of Britain and, like Remus, Apparated to Mr. Jenkins's shop every morning for a week out of every month in order to drink the Wolfsbane Potion that would make their transformations peaceful. The Potion was extremely complicated to make, and not just any person could be trusted to brew it successfully. There were only a handful of skilled brewers in the country, and many of the werewolves preferred to be alone during their transformations. Most of the werewolves in the room had been regulars at Mr. Jenkins's shop since the Potion was first perfected seven years earlier, and chose to remain in the cellar of the shop on the night of the full moon. Remus had only ever trusted Mr. Jenkins and Severus Snape when it came to the Wolfsbane Potion. The Wolfsbane herb alone was lethal to a werewolf, and terrible things had happened to those who had first volunteered to test early recipes.

Remus hated the Wolfsbane Potion. He hated the smell; it was useless with sugar, and therefore tasted horrid. He despised his necessary dependency on it. Without it, he would turn into a vicious monster that craved human flesh; with it, he became a lethargic, useless beast, who still craved the flesh, but no longer had any energy or desire to act on those impulses.

A short, stocky, youngish man, with very thick dark hair tinged with gray, passed a goblet over to Remus. "Thanks, Liam," he said quietly, and raised the goblet to his lips, trying to hold his breath as he drank the putrid concoction.

When everyone had drained his cup, Mr. Jenkins walked around to the front of the counter and reached down to lift up a trap door. It revealed a very large cellar that contained several small rooms holding potions supplies, and one large room with a stove. Blankets were spread out on the ground.

Remus slowly climbed down the rickety ladder and chose the blanket furthest from all the rest. He pulled a worn book out of his pocket. It was a new tactic - to try to become so lost in a story that he would forget the impending transformation. It didn't entirely work but it gave him something to do.

His mind kept wandering no matter how much he tried to control it. He could hear the other men talking quietly in the room around him. Jack and Liam, he remembered, seemed to enjoy gossiping until the last possible moment, when they could do so no longer. It was slightly comforting to know that there would be others here with him this evening, although it wouldn't be the same as having Padfoot...and Prongs...and... Peter. He preferred now to think of Peter as 'Peter' and not as 'Wormtail’ or even 'Pettigrew'. It kept him from growing bitter at the memory of what his school friend had become. Bitterness was futile. Peter was dead. Remus ticked off the list of names that never left his mind. Peter. Lily. James. Severus.

Snape. Severus had prepared the Wolfsbane Potion faithfully for Remus during those last few months of the war. The two of them had never quite managed to have what might be termed a "friendship", although Remus knew that, by the end, they had developed a mutual respect. It was odd, he thought, that they had trusted Peter so much and been rewarded with betrayal... and that Snape, whom they’d all despised, had given them so much, in the end. No one ever would have believed it, back in school. Sirius would certainly never have believed it. Remus smiled in spite of his situation, as an involuntary memory entered his head. Shutting his book softly, his thumb inserted in the pages to hold his place, Remus closed his eyes.

He had always enjoyed Potions in school. The practicalities of brewing, stirring, and timing that were involved in the art of potion making appealed to his controlled nature, although he seemed to lack a natural skill for the subject. He’d done well enough to pass the class, despite the fact that they shared it with the Slytherins.

One particularly rainy day following a night of the full moon, Remus had managed to ruin a cauldron. He had been tired and groggy; he and Sirius had encountered a wolf in the Forbidden Forest the night before, and there had been a small scuffle. James had not been joining them as frequently as he used to for their monthly ramblings - he was the Head Boy and would occasionally feel guilt at breaking the rules, although it rarely lasted. Peter had simply forgotten. While mulling over the previous evening's events in his head, and kicking himself for being so foolhardy as to run loose in the Forbidden Forest without both Padfoot and Prongs to control him, Remus accidentally added twice as much hemlock as was necessary for the assignment. The cauldron - quite a nice one that his mother had purchased as a reward for the hard work involved in earning his Potions O.W.L. - had emitted a slow, whistling noise, and then collapsed inward.

Remus had stared at it, shocked, and rubbed his forehead, not sure where to cast his eyes.

"Is it that time of the month, Lupin?"

Severus Snape was working at the table next to his. For someone who so openly disliked him, Severus seemed to enjoy positioning himself next to Remus in class whenever possible, most likely so that he could shoot sarcastic commentary Remus's way before Nightwood, the Potions master, caught on.

Remus hadn't cared about Snape's comment. It was one in a series of insults that Snape had directed at him ever since Sirius had played that dratted trick on him. He could remember almost laughing at Snape's comment, when a movement on his other side and a loud bang forced him to look up. It was Sirius.

Also tired from their nighttime adventure, Sirius had advanced recklessly on Snape.

"Take that back, you greasy, pathetic excuse for a wizard."

Snape had stared arrogantly at Sirius, not saying a word, and Remus had felt his weariness turn to worry. Sirius was too rash for his own good sometimes. The last thing they needed was for Sirius or Snape to say anything that would alert the rest of the students that Remus was a werewolf. No one, save Remus and Sirius, had heard Snape's original insult. James was now next to Remus, and looked ready to pounce as well, but Sirius had spoken loudly enough for the class to hear, and Professor Nightwood swept towards them, his face contorted with fury.

"Mr. Black! What on earth --? Mr. Lupin? Is that your cauldron?"

Always one to favor members of his own house, Professor Nightwood had given Remus a sharp reprimand and granted Sirius a detention. Snape had escaped the incident with a smug look of satisfaction, and Remus had begged Sirius not to go after him in the hallway when class commenced. Only with Lily’s help was a fight averted; the Marauders returned in silence to the common room and the five friends sequestered themselves in the corner that all of Gryffindor recognized as theirs. James was the first to speak.

"I'm sorry, Moony. I should have gone with you."

Remus sighed to himself even now. He could still hear James’s tone of voice - it was so like James to take the burden entirely on his shoulders, and Remus knew that if he were alive today, he'd be working as tirelessly as Sirius to bring things to order.

"Bastard. Slimy, good for nothing coward..." Sirius had muttered explosively. He had then affected a horrible, effeminate voice. "'Is it that time of the month, Lupin?'"

James had snorted in disgust. "He damn well knows what time of the month it is."

"Is that what he said?" Lily's green eyes had narrowed dangerously. "I would have thought he'd at least respect Dumbledore."

"Yeah, and nobody's supposed to know what you are," Peter had added, helpfully, "but if he keeps on, they'll all find out you're a - "

Sirius had turned to face Peter, amazement written all over his face. "Shut UP!" he hissed. "Are you MENTAL? And by the way, where the hell were you last night, Wormtail? Nice of you to show up."

"I - I fell asleep early."

"You fell ASLEEP?" Sirius had shouted, moving toward him.

But Lily had stepped between them, and the fighting had stopped before it could even begin. Remus exactly remembered the look on her face. She’d always had the sort of presence that could quiet an army, he reflected - and she’d needed it, with all of them. She’d looked very seriously at Peter, then turned to James. "Go with him next time and don’t bother with rules."

Remus had smiled at that. "Some Head Girl you are."

"That's never been my first priority," Lily answered at once. "I'd've gone with you if I could. I'll never forgive you four not telling me this from the beginning so that I could help, too. Now you go to bed, Remus, you look really awful. And Sirius, you go too - I know you were up all night."

"Yes, Mum," Sirius had tugged Lily's ponytail before he followed Remus up the stairs to the boys' dormitories, muttering low and filthy epithets about Snape, and exclaiming aloud whenever he came up with a new plan for torturing him slowly to death.

Remus couldn’t remember too much more of what had happened that night. He opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling of the werewolf enclosure, amazed that he could look back with such nostalgic feelings on his transformation memories. Nights and mornings that should have been the worst ones of his life were colored with the comfort of friendship - in James and Lily and Peter and Sirius he had found not only acceptance, but relief. And later in his life, Snape - who had done his best to make life even less bearable for him during each full moon during their schooldays - had finally shown him that same acceptance.

"It's been a while."

Remus jolted back to reality as Jack Hughes sat down next to him on the floor. He absentmindedly scratched behind his ear and nodded. The transformation was soon upon them; it always began with a tingling, itching feeling throughout his entire skin.

"Yes," Remus answered, smiling a bit. He enjoyed the company of these other men, although he had not grown close to them over the years. He supposed he ought to try to join in their conversation this evening - after all, who knew - he might be coming here once a month for the rest of his life. He didn't know of anyone else who had the skill and whom he would trust enough to brew the Wolfsbane Potion. "How's your wife - Anne, is it? And your daughter?"

Jack blushed and grinned, shaking his blond head slightly. "All right," he answered. "Anne's still working in Hogsmeade and Brenna's nearly ten now. She ought to get her letter for school next summer - d'you think Hogwarts will be ready in time for her to attend?"

"Yes," said Remus, confidently. "Minerva McGonagall estimates that it's only going to take a year to rebuild. She'd like to see the students back at work next September."

"That's good," said Jack, nodding. "My daughter's a smart girl." He smiled, looking very pleased with himself for a moment, and then his face took on a sober expression. "Look," he said, his voice growing quieter, "you're quite good friends with Arthur Weasley, aren't you?"

Remus nodded, and winced as a pain shot through the entire length of his back. Jack coughed and continued in a throaty voice, "Do you know if the new Ministry will be more favorable towards - our kind? Arthur's well-known for the work he did with Muggle rights under Fudge and well, I could use the work, as could Liam and well, everyone here in this room. We can all get temporary stuff, you know, but..." Jack stood, although not entirely upright, and put his hands on his back.

Remus finished the sentence for him. "It would be nice to be official, wouldn't it? Arthur's working on it, but you know, they’ve got to see to the Dementor situation first. He's assured me that it's on his list though." Arthur had told him as much, although Remus couldn't be sure that even the Minister of Magic would be able to convince more narrow-minded witches and wizards in the Ministry that werewolves were trustworthy. He had earned a small amount of respect from his role in the war, but people like his neighbor, Martin Lewis, still turned green at the sight of him.

Jack smiled with difficulty and Remus knew as a dull throbbing began in his own head that they all had very little time left to talk this evening. Before he left for his own piece of the floor, he patted Remus on the shoulder. "Thanks, mate," he said.

Remus could only nod his response; at this point, words were beyond him. He reached to remove his shoes and every movement was a focused effort. The wolf was becoming active now; Remus felt the cold creeping along his veins to settle just under his skin as it always did, the stinging in every pore, the itch of each individual hair pushing unmercifully through his flesh as he unbuttoned and removed his shirt to make way for the transformation.

"Padfoot..." he muttered, only half-aware that he was calling out for Sirius. It was Moony's instinct to find Padfoot - even during the years that Sirius had been in Azkaban, Moony had never forgotten Padfoot's smell, and Remus had used to hate himself for missing Sirius so incredibly, even after the things that had been done to Lily and James. But he hadn't been able to help it, and Moony had mourned Padfoot at each full moon as if it were a new wound. Remus's own human pain had been dulled with constant effort and the careful retraining of thought. But the wolf was simpler and the loss of the dog had remained unbearably sharp, because the dog had been his partner. Prongs had been the biggest, the most beautiful, the most impressive to Moony in terms of sheer mass, and Wormtail had been the most deft. But it was always Padfoot that had corralled the wolf, Padfoot that had traveled in step with him, howled with him, played with him, made this wrenching pain almost worth bearing.

Fingers of fire shot across his ribs and Remus contorted, but did not lie down. There was no point in lying down; he'd be thrust forward on all fours in a matter of minutes. The only thing to do was cling to rational thought, human thought, for as long as possible. But it was too difficult to think of Sirius. Now that Remus was no longer parted from his dearest friend by Azkaban's walls, he wanted Padfoot here. He grimaced at the incredible cramp that seemed to grip his intestines, and shook his head dimly against the pain. Padfoot wasn't coming. Those times were over - this enclosure at the apothecary's was the only choice, now that Snape was dead.

Snape. Remus clung to the thought as his back arched spasmodically and curved forward again. His head hung toward his knees and he could hear his own labored breathing - but he would hold on to his mind. Snape. Snape had been killed near the wards of Hogwarts on that final day of battle - no one knew exactly how. They had never found his body. They had never found Percy's body. They had never found Peter's body, either. Not that they had ever looked.

Remus felt his kneebones twist and he gasped in agony, hardly aware of the sounds of pain which echoed in the room around him, unable to care if his own were humiliating and raw. Concentrate, he ordered himself, but he felt his thoughts spiraling ever further out of his control, becoming more fragmented, more disjointed as the wolf's consciousness overtook his own.

Peter's body. Peter's death - for Harry. He had died for Harry, just like James and Lily. Killed, slain. He had killed again, too, after James and Lily. He had killed Percy Weasley before Percy's information about the Order had been properly verified - he had killed him rashly, stupidly, hoping that his actions would earn him commendation. But it had been the worst possible move, and instead, Peter had been brought before Voldemort to explain why the Death Eaters' best source of information thus far had been disposed of before it had been properly exploited. Realizing his mistake, and in fear of his life, Wormtail had Disapparated and run to Hogwarts... in his Animagus form... and he had scampered into the dungeons to hide...

Remus felt himself snarl in anger, even though his state was already muted by the Wolfsbane, at the memory of Wormtail in that dungeon. He himself had been standing there with Snape as he brewed Veritaserum for the Order... Remus had gone to talk to Snape about Harry, about protecting Harry, about the potion element of the Fidelius Charm... About who best could serve as Harry's Secret Keeper... Not Sirius - too obvious. Not Ron and not Hermione - same problem. Not himself; once a month he was useless. Snape had answered that the most unlikely candidate was Neville Longbottom "I hardly recommend that you entrust anything so crucial to such a fool, but then again, no one in his right mind would believe Longbottom capable of it. Of course, he may be capable of other things. Pettigrew was, if I recall the situation correctly."

Remus had been on the verge of cursing Snape for that callous remark, but before he could start in, Sirius had come crashing into the dungeon to find out what in bloody hell was taking so long - and stopped short in the doorway. His face had slackened, his eyes had gone bright, his wand had been pointed at the floor as if Voldemort himself were lying there.

"Apparently they were right to call you a madman, Black," Snape had commented silkily. But Sirius had not been mad. A few well-chosen words and a twist of his wand, and Peter Pettigrew had cowered on the floor before him, shaking, terrifed, bloodied at the knees.

Remus remembered his shock. Peter? Here? Now?

"Please - please - you have to help me -" he had stuttered. But Sirius had cast a Muting Charm on him before he could do any begging, and had stood directly over him, wand aimed at his heart.

"Why, Peter. What a pleasure, really, and aren't you looking well? What brings you here?... What's that?... Can't you answer?... Cat got your tongue? Pity. I so wanted to ask you a few questions. About Percy Weasley, for example."

Sirius's voice was so merciless and Peter had trembled so horribly that Remus had actually felt sorry for him.

"Sirius..."

"No, Remus. I'll kill him now. Today. Enough chances have been wasted and enough lives lost. You can help if you like; otherwise, I'm thrilled to do it alone."

"It's murder, done like this."

"I've already been convicted of this murder. I've served time for it. I've been pardoned by the Ministry and now I'll commit the crime if I see a need." Sirius's voice had grown quite soft. "And make no mistake, Peter. I see a need. Get on your feet."

Peter had not moved. He had curled up on his side and begun to sob soundlessly within the Muting Charm. His face had been a revolting river of mucus and tears.

"On. Your. Feet."

"Black," Snape had suggested icily, "he doesn' t seem to be responding to your barbaric threats. Kill him on the floor, if you're going to do it this way. Or stop being an imbecile about it and keep him alive."

Sirius had laughed, a harsh, ugly sound. "You're the imbecile if you want him alive, Snape. He'd have sold you out to Voldemort in a second if he'd've known what you really were."

"And I'm certain he did sell me out, the moment he realized my true position," Snape replied smoothly, and repealed Sirius's Muting Charm. "There. Speak. Tell me, Wormtail, when I fled the Death Eaters and you discovered that Percy Weasley's information was false, who did you blame?"

Peter had rocked stupidly on the floor; though his voice was restored, he was nearly unintelligible in his fear.

"I didn't blame - Malfoy did - our Master - going to kill me - you ruined our chances -"

Snape had looked on, coldly. "He's better use to us alive. Give him to me."

"No way in hell."

"If you have a brain in your head, Black, you'll listen to me now. He may have information in that weak head of his and it would serve us to get it out of him before we dispose of him."

Remus had shuddered. "My God, Severus. You sound like..."

"If I sound like Voldemort to you, Lupin, it is only because you have never heard him at his worst. Has he, Wormtail?" Snape had smiled at Peter, barely - a vampiric sort of smile. "How fortunate that you stopped by. I've just completed a batch of Veritaserum, and I'm sure you'll be willing to help me test it."

Peter had only shaken so violently that the loose skin of his chins had quivered.

But in silent agreement with Snape's plan, Sirius had flown Peter to the dungeon's classroom desktop, and bound him there, face-up.

"Try this, and do tell me what you think," Snape had said lightly, still smiling, as he held a vial of the newly-brewed, crystal clear potion above Peter's open, sobbing throat. "We really don't have time for a Cooling Charm, do we, Black?" Snape had asked mildly, gesturing to the potion, which was still so hot that it steamed in the vial.

Sirius had smiled, grimly. "No. We certainly don't."

The Veritaserum had been administered. Peter had screamed in pain.

Remus screamed in pain now - but silently - returning most unwillingly to the present as his legs began to morph entirely into the wolf's legs. His arms slid from their sockets. His vocal chords shifted, his hearing abandoned him, and his tail began to push from the base of his spine, sending him forward onto half-clawed hands, which were not yet quite paws. His face elongated, and as his head began to collapse into the shape of the wolf's, the memory of Peter grew further and further away as the final agonies of transformation wracked his muscles, his bones, his mind. He could barely make out the rest of the scene, barely cling to the final moments of sanity that were left him before the wolf claimed him entirely.

"Tell me your name." Sirius had stood above Peter's limp figure, fire leaping in his eyes. He clearly relished the opportunity to interrogate his traitor.

"Peter Pettigrew."

"Why are you at Hogwarts?"

"I ran away from my Master. He was going to kill me."

"Why?"

"Because I killed Percy Weasley and there was more information to be got from him before he was disposed of."

Remus had nearly gagged at the callousness of that reply. Snape had been entirely unfazed. Sirius had pressed on.

"But why come to Hogwarts?"

"My Master can't get in here. It's the only safe place."

"You knew that we were here."

"I thought that I could hide."

Sirius had laughed. "Not from me," he'd nearly whispered. "Never from me. Now tell us what you know about Voldemort's plans. Anything and everything you know..."

Remus could think no longer. His bones shifted into their temporary skeleton, his muscles strapped into place around them, and the last half-inch of unbelievably uncomfortable fur shot through his hide. The memory of Peter's sniveling faded and Snape disappeared from view, and for a moment there was only Sirius's face, Sirius's voice - cold - purposeful - demanding the truth....

And then darkness. Instinct. Present. No past, no thought unrelated to this moment, no memory. Moonlight through the bars of the trap, tuning his blood. Footpads on concrete. Sharp sounds - magnified sounds. Cool, soft, muted colors. The unmistakable smell of wolves. The smell of wolves, everywhere - but none among them a friend. None among them a mate.

Nowhere the smell of Padfoot.

Moony whined softly, and curled up to mourn his loss once more.

~*~

Sirius Black stood on a craggy rock in the middle of an isolated Welsh bay and stared out towards the sea. Behind him was a cove, hidden from Muggle eyes, and in that cove, rising out of the water, was a castle. The castle was named Culparrat, and it was the location of the new holding cells for those awaiting trial for their involvement in the recent war. It had been underwater for centuries; seaweed still covered its uppermost turrets, and ghosts of sea creatures still roamed its halls.

Standing on the rock, facing the opposite direction, Sirius felt that his mind was empty - everything was clear and simple. A strong wind rustled his dark hair, and made his black and gray robes sail behind him. For a moment, he felt truly, entirely free. A moment later, however, an owl landed on his shoulder, holding out its claw so that Sirius could detach a roll of parchment from its leg. Sirius read in an untidy scrawl,

Black,

Lunch is over. Get back here, you lazy dog.

M -

Sirius chuckled. "M" was Mad-Eye Moody, the infamous Auror. Moody must have just arrived from Azkaban, with another transport of Stunned prisoners. With a deep sigh, Sirius turned once more to glance out towards sea, and then, with a 'pop', Disapparated off of the rock.

A moment later, Sirius was standing at the entrance of the castle. Several Charms were already in place to prevent Apparating in and out of the building itself. Sirius performed the counter-spells to bypass the ones that he had helped set up, entered the castle, and after several minutes of winding down unlit hallways, he arrived in a damp, moldy-smelling room. A thick man with a wooden leg was pacing restlessly. The dim light in the room made the craggy face even more ominous, and one small, dark eye was rolling around like a marble in his head.

"How many?" Sirius asked Moody, nodding his head towards a doorway, which led into one of the holding cells.

"Eight in this transport," Moody answered, fixing a gaze at Sirius with his other, normal eye. "We’ve still got four more groups to send out and then all will be clear at Azkaban. I can’t tell you how happy all of us are. I’m getting dead tired of creating a Patronus every half-hour. At least now we'll be able to push the Dementors inward and hopefully isolate them without worrying about the damage that they may cause the prisoners."

"Well, I don’t imagine that it’s going to be that much easier to Stun these people every twenty-four hours," said Sirius, gloomily. "We'll have to start conducting trials almost immediately."

Moody said fiercely, "It's not necessary to hurry too much. A wizard can be Stunned every day for a year and not be worse off for it. Look what happened to me."

Moody had survived being Stunned for an entire school year by Bartemius Crouch, Jr., a Dark wizard who impersonated Moody and kept him locked up in a cellar. Sirius decided to drop the topic. He headed to the door that led to the holding cells and opened it. The castle was frighteningly silent. The door led to a long corridor and Sirius walked down towards the end with Moody thumping along beside him, pointedly not looking through the bars in the doors. Finally, at one of the last rooms, Sirius stopped and Moody pulled a piece of parchment from his pocket.

"I'll need you to verify," he said to Sirius, squinting at the parchment and clearing his throat.

Sirius nodded, took a step towards the door, and holding out his wand, uttered a spell to open it. After hesitating a moment, he and Moody entered the room.

Eight wizards lay on top of rickety cots lined up against the walls. All appeared to be sleeping soundly. These wizards were among several hundred whom had been accused of working for Voldemort during the war. They were unshaven and their hair looked as if it hadn't been combed in weeks. That would change soon - members of the M.L.E.S. had gone out and rounded up the house-elves belonging to the accused. Since many suspected Dark wizards came from old wizarding families, quite a few house-elves had

been gathered. Most of them had been found wandering aimlessly and sadly around the houses of their former masters and had been ecstatic at the opportunity to work again. Hermione had suggested paying them, like the Hogwarts elves that were assisting in the rebuilding of the school, but so far, all had refused. The presence of these magical creatures made Culparrat a refreshing and humane change from the deplorable conditions in Azkaban.

Moody began to read names from the parchment as the two of them marched along the perimeter of the room. "Silvershots, Frank - that's a surprise, that one is. Verio, Rupert - I went to school with his father, we brought his wife over earlier this morning - you remember?" Moody continued reading from the list while Sirius surveyed each prisoner. Finally, they reached the end, and Moody pulled a quill out of his other pocket and handed it to Sirius along with the list. "Just sign here," he directed, "you know the drill. We'll have a series of forms outlining their crimes by the end of the day."

Sirius was already at the door. He couldn't stand being in that room - in that cell, with all of those people. He couldn't believe that Simon Flannery was capable of Dark magic - the two of them had played together as children. And what about the others? Once outside the room, Sirius took a deep breath. "Tomorrow I'll be in London. Remus has agreed to come with me and meet with the lawyers. We've rounded up everyone we can find. I'm hoping that we can start trials next week."

Nodding, Moody said, "And we'll have to figure out a way to deal with the Dementors. We've got a section of Azkaban set up to try to hold them. We've had a few more wizards volunteering to come up and supply a Patronus. We haven't quite figured out how that's going to work, but until we find a way to destroy them or keep them at bay, it's the best solution we have. We'll have to get it straightened out soon though - if you're starting trials next week, then prisoners could be arriving back at Azkaban very soon."

"I just wish we could find a way to keep the guilty ones at Culparrat after the trials. I can't in good conscience send anyone back into that hell."

Moody looked as though he disagreed with this line of thought, but merely grunted and took his leave. Sirius headed towards the small room that he had set up as a base station in the castle. He already had four cabinets full of files on each person currently being held at Culparrat. He stretched his arms, threw back his head, took a deep breath, and began carefully looking through the file he had started working on that morning. Knowing that what he was doing was right and just gave Sirius the energy to carry on.

~*~

Remus wandered out into the well-tended garden of Lupin Lodge, clutching a letter in his hand. The letter, which had apparently arrived with the morning paper, bore the familiar Hogwarts crest at the top. It was amazingly still outside - although it was nearly eight o'clock in the evening, the day was still bright and warm. He preferred the summer, when the days were long and the nights short. His transformation the night before had been relatively painless. Nothing could stop the feeling of intense loneliness that he felt every time the wolf arrived each month, but the Wolfsbane Potion and the end of the war made it seem a bit more bearable after it was finished. He had Apparated around midday, fallen into bed, slept late, and, as far as he could tell, no one had really paid any attention to this. He was glad, because he didn't want the teenagers to spend their relaxing summer worrying about him.

Sitting down on a stone surrounded by some rather tall, purple, jungle-like plants, he stretched out his legs and read the letter for the twelfth time.

Dear Remus,

I am writing in the hope that you will consider doing a favor for a former professor and old friend. As you are well aware, we are trying to rebuild Hogwarts in time for it to reopen next year. It is common knowledge that you were considered one of the best Defense Against the Dark Arts teachers that Hogwarts has seen. I know your feelings on returning to this position, and I will not offer it to you again. I would, however, like to ask you to consider returning to Hogwarts as the professor in charge of teaching Care of Magical Creatures. The appointment would not begin until the next school year. Being a magical creature yourself, I find you ideally suited for the job. Please consider the offer.

Warmest Regards,

Дата добавления: 2015-10-24