Fic: Fidelis
Thanks to everyone for their good wishes after the last post. I really appreciated your kindness.
This is a story I started almost two and a half years ago. Finally off the hard drive! Thanks to kennahijja for a wonderful beta job, twice.
Summary: When two children are killed in the picturesque village of Beddgelert, Remus is called in by the Ministry as an unpaid consultant. The Auror he's supposed to be working with doesn't seem too delighted by the idea. Remus, Moody, gen. Set in May 1982. 4400 words. PG-13.
Fidelis
There is a place in north west Wales where twin rivers meet beneath an ancient bridge. The town of Beddgelert nestles within its ring of mountains, a haven for walkers wishing to capture Snowdon's summit, or for pilgrims who come in their thousands each summer to visit the grave of Gelert, the faithful hound.
Remus Lupin had had enough of faithful hounds to last him a lifetime. He tugged the collar of his raincoat up as he walked, grateful for the Impervius that kept his faded clothes dry. It had been raining steadily for hours and the path through the park was awash with water.
He veered right, heading across the soaking grass to the ruined shepherd's hut. He glanced inside. In the twilight, the huge bronze wolfhound guarding the entrance seemed to leap out at him. He stood still for a moment to listen.
Silence.
He can't be here yet. Remus stepped into the hut and fished out his wand. 'Lumos.'
'Nox,' a voice hissed immediately. 'Put that bloody light out.'
Remus looked around. 'I might have been lighting a cigarette,' he said into the darkness.
There was a swishing sound as Moody's head appeared from beneath an Invisibility Cloak. 'Some cigarette,' he snorted. 'And anyway, you don't smoke.'
'They don't know that,' Remus said mildly. He looked at the bronze. 'Gelert, I take it. Is this the grave?'
Moody shook his head. 'That's outside. Safer here. More chance of being overheard in the open.'
'More rain, too. Let's find the hotel.'
--
'Nice room.' Moody wandered across to the window Remus had just opened and closed it. 'Keep that shut. Never know who might be listening.'
'We're on the second floor.'
Moody tossed a parchment onto the bed. 'We think the first sighting was six years ago. A toddler saw a giant hound racing across the snow by the light of the moon. She thought it was the ghost of Gelert.' He emptied a manila envelope onto the counterpane. 'Clippings from Muggle newspapers. Missing sheep. Small animals. The newspapers thought it might be a big cat. It was quite a story for a while.'
Remus remembered the soggy landscape. 'Not exactly cat territory.'
'No. There's no word of an escaped big cat anywhere in the area. The papers gave up on that after a bit and concluded it was a stray dog gone bad. The story died.'
'Until now.'
'Until now. Two children missing in three months. Avril White, aged two, on February 13. Vanished from the cottage her parents were renting in the valley. What was left of her turned up five weeks later. Looked like the body had been mauled by an animal. April 14. Billy Evans went out on his bike after tea and never came back. They found the bike, covered in blood, and the footprints of a big dog in the mud.' Moody paused. Remus watched him glance at the window. 'February 13 and April 14. Those are both -'
'Full moons. Yes. I know.'
'Thought you might.'
Still watching Moody, Remus sat down on the bed. It gave under him and he sagged forward. Moody flinched.
'It has to be a witch or a wizard,' Remus said, pretending he had not noticed. 'Werewolves can kill Muggles but they can't infect them. Grindelwald's experiments in the Black Forest proved that. How many live in the area?'
'Five. Not a big area for wizards. The residual magic from Snowdonia messes with spellwork.'
'Interesting.'
Moody looked puzzled. 'Why?'
'Never mind. I take it you've got names and addresses?'
Moody swept the newspaper cuttings into a pile, then unfolded a map and spread it out on the bed. Tiny flags danced across it. Pointing at a red one, he said, 'Carvix Wootten. Artist. Paints for tourists, mostly.' He indicated a green flag. 'Glenda Nightshade -'
'That can't be her real name.'
'Does the horoscopes for Witch Weekly. Amanda Stapeley. Muggle primary school teacher -'
'Hold on.' Remus frowned. 'Muggle teacher?'
Moody nodded. 'Seems she was a late developer. Never went to Hogwarts. First signs of magic at twenty-six. The Ministry contacted her, of course, and offered retraining, but she said she was happy as she was.'
'Fair enough. And this one?' Remus tapped a grey flag just outside the town.
'Asenby Whitlock. Works for the Department of Mysteries. Top secret.'
'We'll have to pay him a visit all the same.'
'We'll have to pay them all a visit.'
'That'll keep us busy.' He glanced at Moody. 'Why me, incidentally, and not another Auror?'
Moody shrugged. 'Someone at the Ministry thought the best way to sniff out one werewolf was to use another, maybe.'
'What do you think?'
'Ministry nonsense. If it worked, somebody would have already done it.'
Remus reached out to touch the final flag. He said evenly, 'You don't mind working with a werewolf, then.'
There was a pause, then Moody said, 'That's Hagar Hackstraw you've got there. Town butcher. You'll have heard of his uncle: he invented Hackstraw's Patent Potion for Wheezing Wizards. You can get it in pills as well.'
'A butcher,' Remus said thoughtfully. 'He sounds a good bet.'
Half an hour later they had discussed each suspect, marked their homes on a large-scale map of the area and plotted a route for the next day. When Remus suggested a coffee break, Moody decided it was time for bed. As soon as he had gone, Remus opened the window again, and pulled the wing chair over. He rested his cup and saucer on the sill and leaned out, savouring the clean, cold air. As he looked down the hill, the town was spread before him, silent, sleeping and peaceful.
--
'I don't care.' Amanda Stapeley shook her head, her face pink with anger. 'I'm not interested. Leave me alone.'
'It's not that simple.' Moody took a step forward, forcing her to step back into the tiny hallway. As she did so, he pushed past her. 'We'll need to look around. It'll be easier for you if you cooperate.'
'Easier!' She followed him into a neat sitting room. Bright yellow exercise books were piled high on a table, a quill moving vigorously across their pages. Remus wandered over and picked up one of the books, flipping through the comments. Excellent work, Hugh, he read, but watch your spelling. Take care to copy carefully from the board.
The book was taken from his hand. 'That's private.'
He smiled. 'It seems like an excellent way to get the marking done.'
She looked surprised. 'It helps.'
'I bet it does.' Moody had picked up a china shepherd from the mantelpiece and was examining the felt base. 'You know this is hollow?' he remarked, looking across at Remus. 'Could hide anything in here. Course, we'd have to smash it to find out.'
'Alastor -'
'Got an alibi for the fourteenth of April, Miss Stapeley?'
'I don't know. Please put that down.'
Moody nodded and replaced the ornament, banging it carelessly against the wall. Remus winced. 'Have a think, Miss Stapeley,' Moody said, one hand resting on the shepherd's crook. 'Have a long, hard think. We'll be back.'
--
Glenda Nightshade hunched her shoulders as she leaned across the table. Her hands were pale and liver-spotted, the fingers bedecked with rings. Around her neck she wore a jet pendant which disappeared somewhere into the depths of the most impressive cleavage Remus had seen since his fifth year, when he had stumbled across Sirius' secret collection of Playwizard magazines.
'You have a fascinating aura, Mr…' she breathed.
She was close enough for Remus to smell her face powder. He shifted in his chair. 'Lupin. Mr. Lupin.'
'Mr. Lupin.' She gave a tragic sigh, then took his hand in hers. Her grip was surprisingly strong. 'You must be brave. I sense great tragedy in your future.'
You're a little behind the times, Remus thought. He said nothing. She stared at him with wide eyes.
'Life is not easy for those few of us blessed with the Inner Eye,' she continued. 'You will know suffering and loss, but you will prevail.'
Remus forced a smile. 'That's, ah, very reassuring.'
Moody put his cup down on the table with a thunk. Tea splashed onto the green patterned cloth. 'Oops. Now, about your movements three weeks ago last Thursday evening -'
Glenda Nightshade ignored him. 'Some people have no depth,' she whispered, sidling round the table to hiss in Remus' ear. 'Your friend here. He will never commune with spirits on the astral plane. He does not understand the language of the soul.'
'Three weeks,' Moody repeated. 'Last Thursday.' He reached for the cup again, but she forestalled him, moving it swiftly out of his reach. Remus blinked.
'Some of us,' she spat, 'were dallying with dragons.'
'Dragons?' Moody produced a notebook and pen. 'Any particular variety?'
'Variety?'
'You know, Hungarian Horntail, Norwegian Black, Chinese Fireball -'
She threw her hands up in a fury. 'I have no time for trivialities!'
'Of course not,' Remus soothed her. 'But it would be very helpful if you could answer our questions.' He took another swallow of his tea, hoping it wouldn't touch the sides on the way down. 'And then you must tell me where you get this tea. It's delightful.'
--
'Glenda Nightshade, my eye.' Moody slammed the wooden gate. 'Her name's Penelope Polliflex and she was in my year at Hogwarts. Then she was at Madam Malkin's for a bit; got her fingers rapped for passing on the designs. If she's a professional astrologer, I'm Stubby Boardman.'
'No alibi to speak of.'
'No.' A grin split Moody's face. 'You'd think she would have seen that question coming.'
--
Jorrocks had been a Hufflepuff in Remus' year, pale-faced and ginger-haired and forever chewing his fingers. Remus had partnered him in Potions for a term and had watched, fascinated, as the other boy chopped, diced and shredded and then stuck his fingers back in his mouth almost before he had tossed the ingredients into his cauldron. He was a quiet boy, not popular with the others from his House, who said his nightmares kept them awake. Remus had not thought of Jorrocks for several years. He remembered now that Jorrocks had never gone home for the holidays. 'Too frightening,' he had volunteered once, before ramming his knuckles into his mouth and staring at Remus, wide-eyed. His father had worked at the Department of Mysteries.
Remus had not thought of Jorrocks for several years, but he remembered him now as he waited with Moody for Asenby Whitlock's front door to open. Rumours abounded concerning the Department of Mysteries: there were said to be rooms piled high with discarded prophecies, devices that could stop time, and a room so hazardous that its door was always locked. It was certainly true that a good proportion of Unspeakables ended their days as permanent residents of the Janus Thickey Ward at St. Mungo's.
He did not know quite what he had expected of Asenby Whitlock, but it was not this. The man was short and plump with curling dark hair and a smile like a cream-fed Kneazle. He invited them in to a comfortable sitting-room with a spectacular view of the Welsh countryside. Remus watched alertly for signs of nerves. There were none.
Whitlock leaned back in his armchair and steepled his fingers together. 'Let me think,' he mused. 'Three weeks ago last Thursday I was in Cornwall with the family. I was investigating reports of a Lethifold; they were having a holiday.'
'A Lethifold?' Remus frowned.
'Actually a piece of tarpaulin from a campsite. Somebody panicked. Still, better that than not calling it in at all.'
'It seems an odd job for, ah, someone who works at the Department of Mysteries.' Remus had been about to say an Unspeakable but caught himself just in time.
Whitlock's eyes glinted. He said smoothly, 'Does it?' then turned to Moody. 'Do you have any questions?'
Moody grunted. 'Can't say I'd take my family to a Lethifold haunt. And anyway, aren't they restricted to the tropics?'
'Not restricted. There's been one on Bodmin Moor for a number of years.' Whitlock smiled. 'The perils of global warming. Either that or someone brought it here and released it deliberately.'
'You've got witnesses who can confirm your alibi?' Moody's pen hovered over the pages of his notebook.
'Oh, I think so.' Whitlock stood up and crossed to a polished mahogany bureau which stood in one corner of the room. Opening the top, he pulled out a black pocket diary and consulted it. Remus peered past him into the bureau. It was beautifully neat.
'Yes.' Whitlock shut the diary with a flap. 'On that Thursday evening I was attending a private dinner. You'll forgive me if I don't tell you what we discussed.'
Moody was on his feet at once. 'Names?'
'My wife, of course, my very good friend Kirkby Starbeck from the Wizengamot… and oh, yes, the Minister of Magic. Will that be all, gentlemen?'
--
'He's got hairy hands,' Moody said as they walked down the hillside. 'Does that make him a werewolf?'
Remus kicked a piece of flint and watched it bounce along the track. 'My grandmother's got hairy hands,' he said. Then, since Moody was still waiting, 'No, Alastor, she isn't. It's not hereditary. And you can't tell just by looking at someone.'
'Fair enough.' Moody shrugged. He tilted his head upwards and sniffed the air. 'Should be a dry evening. Make a change. Who's next?'
'Hagar Hackstraw. Your friend with the patent pills.'
--
As soon as he saw Hackstraw, Moody's eyes lit up. The butcher was a giant of a man, at least six foot four and with muscles to match. He had flaming red hair and the brightest blue eyes Remus had ever seen.
'Thursday?' he repeated in answer to Moody's question. 'Can't say that I do. Can't say that I'd tell you, even if I did. What business is it of yours where I choose to go?'
'Auror business.' Moody fixed him with a hard stare. 'You can explain here or you can take your chances in London with Veritaserum.' He ran his eyes deliberately over the butcher's shop. 'Might be interesting to see what Magical Law Enforcement make of this place. You can put it together again after they've gone.'
The butcher took the cigarette from his mouth and dropped it next to Moody's boot. His eyes were sullen. 'I was down the pub, wasn't I? The Faithful Hound on Gwynant Street. Ask anyone.'
Moody smiled. Remus and the butcher flinched. 'Much better.' Moody brought his boot down on the cigarette, crushing it into the tiled floor. 'Don't go anywhere. We might want you again.'
'Bloody London.' The butcher was pale. 'Bloody English, bossing us around. You think you're so clever, don’t you?'
'You got a problem with that?' Moody moved to stand in front of Hackstraw, staring up at him. The butcher took a step back. Moody shook his head and turned away. 'Come on, Lupin. One more call to make, then we can go for a drink.'
--
'He's our man.' Moody was jubilant as they rounded the corner and headed towards a group of pretty stone cottages.
'What makes you think that?'
'All that aggression. You said yourself, the butcher's the obvious choice. Great job for a werewolf. What about you?'
'What?'
'Why didn’t you become a butcher?'
Remus blinked. Before he could answer, Moody was banging on the painter's front door. There was no reply.
'Curtains drawn, no one at home.' Moody winked. 'Let's have a look around.'
They scrambled over the low wall and wandered around to the back. From the centre of the small garden a hideous stone gnome grinned at them atop a wishing well. Moody gave it an appreciative look. 'Wouldn't mind something like that in my garden.'
Remus stared at him. 'If we're wrong about the butcher, you might be able to take this one.'
'Good point. Alohomora.' Moody pushed the kitchen door open and they stepped inside. The room was in darkness. 'Hall should be this - shh!' From somewhere inside the cottage came the sound of low voices. The two men exchanged glances and began to edge towards the noise. At a closed door leading to the front of the house, they stopped. Moody nodded at the door. In here, he mouthed. There was a scream from inside the room as he kicked the door open.
A man and a woman were entwined on a sheepskin rug in front of a coal fire. Light from the flames cast a ruddy glow on their skin.
'Carvix Wootten, I take it?' Moody put his wand away. 'Nice to meet you again, Ms. Nightshade.'
Glenda Nightshade grabbed a throw from a nearby armchair and hugged it in front of her. 'You've got a nerve!' she burst out, glaring at Moody. 'Breaking into someone's home -'
'We did knock,' Remus interrupted. He realised that he was admiring the painted dragon on the throw and looked away hastily.
'I expected better of you, Mr Lupin.'
'Let's start again.' Moody sat down on the arm of a sofa. Crossing his legs, he balanced the notebook on one knee and licked the end of his quill. 'Dallying with, ah, dragons, wasn't it, Ms. Nightshade?'
--
Remus banged his pint down on the table and scowled at Moody. 'Three with alibis. Two without. If we let Wootten and Nightshade alibi each other, that is. If we don't, the only one with an alibi is Whitlock.'
'He's not going to be easy to crack if he's lying.' Moody folded his arms and glared around the pub. '"My very good friend from the Wizengamot"' He snorted. 'I've got a friend on the Wizengamot too, if it comes to that. It's the Minister of Magic that's the problem. Bloody bureaucrats.'
'Either way, it doesn't look like we're going to crack this before tomorrow's full moon. What happens next?'
Moody took a long draught of his pint and wiped froth from his lip. 'If it was up to me I'd intern the whole damn lot of them, Minister of Magic or no Minister of Magic. That's the trouble with werewolves, they look just like ordinary people.'
'Most of the time,' Remus said pointedly, 'they are ordinary people.'
Moody ignored the interruption. 'I'll have to tell some bright spark that this werewolf idea hasn't worked. I never thought it would. Money for jam, though. How much are they paying you?' Remus gave him a level look and said nothing. Moody shifted uncomfortably in his chair and took another sip of beer.
'It's not so bad,' Remus said after a moment. 'Good food and a comfortable bed. I'm not complaining. And this beer isn't bad at all. I suppose that'll end when you make your report.'
'Not necessarily. Tomorrow we switch to Plan B.'
'Plan B?'
There's a bloke called Belby, you might have heard of him, developed a potion for the Ministry. It's a still a bit experimental, so they're looking for volunteers. Have you heard of Wolfsbane?'
'Everyone's heard of it. You can't mean -'
'Surrender your wand and I'm authorised to offer you Wolfsbane for tomorrow night.'
'And if I don't?' Even as he asked, Remus knew he had no choice.
'If everything Dumbledore says about the transformation is true, you will.' Moody stretched his hand across the table, palm upwards. Remus nodded slowly, and handed over his wand.
--
'Here.' Moody dumped a smoking goblet on the desk. 'Looks disgusting.'
'Thanks.' Remus glanced out of the window. 'Two hours till the moon comes up,' he observed. 'I'm going to make a cup of tea. Join me?' Moody looked alarmed. 'No, I thought not. What are you going to do?'
'Go for a walk, have a bath, have a think. Maybe all three.' Moody raised his wand and pointed it at the window. 'Colloportus. I'll be back in an hour. Don't go anywhere.'
Remus felt his face go pale with anger. 'Going to lock the door as well?'
Moody bared his teeth in a grin. 'Think you can stop me? Feel free to try.'
--
Crossing to the window for the hundredth time, Remus stared at the sky. Only a few minutes to moonrise. What had happened to Moody? He shook his head. It was irrelevant; he could not afford to remain trapped in the hotel for his transformation, in case something went wrong and he was discovered. Just my luck, he thought sourly, if someone set off the fire alarm. Grabbing the empty goblet, he brought it down hard against the glass pane.
Twelve minutes later he raised himself onto unsteady legs and sniffed the twilight. His limbs were stiff and he ached all over, but the transformation had not been as bad as he had feared. The wolf surged within him, but he was still himself, still Remus, and he was confident that he could maintain control. It was a disturbing feeling to look down at himself and see the long, dangerous claws where he had expected fingers. The wolf's brown fur was streaked with grey, like his own; Remus smiled, and felt his jaws open in a snarl.
Moody's familiar scent struck his nostrils, somewhere ahead of him on the slope. Remus lifted his head and sniffed again, then set off after him, avoiding the footpath. The last thing he wanted was to meet a late rambler.
The scent grew stronger as he trudged through bracken and soaking grass. As he closed the distance between them he began to pick out emotions - irritation, uncertainty, the first drift of fear. And then his questing nose picked up another smell, dog-like, but not a dog. Something was stalking Moody and it was hungry.
Rounding a heap of tumbled boulders, he saw a dark shape silhouetted against the skyline, hurrying down the hill. Moody's coat flapped around his legs in the wind. He was making heavy weather of the descent, stumbling as if he had been drinking. Remus felt his hackles rise and his ears go flat.
A gaunt grey shape flashed from a clump of ragged trees, bowling into Moody and bringing him down. Remus heard a cry, then only snapping and snarling, and the sound of falling scree. He raced towards his partner as if his life depended on it . Moody's wand arced past him as he ran, green sparks showering in its wake.
Two shapes rolled over and over in the wet grass, coming to rest with the wolf on top. It was a female, Remus noticed as he hurtled towards them, its jaws snapping at Moody's throat. The Auror had both hands clamped around its muzzle, holding the jagged teeth at bay. Blood streamed from a tear in his trousers and his right leg was open to the bone. A giant claw raked his face from ear to ear, and he screamed and fell back, his hands dropping away. Blood spurted from the wound. The smell was intoxicating. Remus reeled. He had not realised how hungry he was. Get a grip, he told himself, and leapt at the strange wolf. His claws took her low in the flank, carrying her up and away from Moody's body.
It did not take him long to realise that he was stronger than his rival. The end was only a matter of time. The female realised it, too, and tried to pull away, but Remus twisted and nipped and tore until she was forced to turn and fight. She howled at him in fear and rage, hurling herself at him again and again, until finally she collapsed at his feet, rolling over to expose her belly with a whimper of submission. He looked into her eyes and saw only fear and the desire to stay alive. I'm sorry, he thought, and bent to rip out her throat.
He staggered away, desperately thirsty and aching all over, and wondered what to do next. Moody was lying not far away, one hand flung over his face, his coat sleeve already thick with blood. Remus gave an interrogative growl, and heard a faint moan in reply.
Still conscious, then. Thank God for that. He staggered down the hillside, sniffing the grass. Eventually he found what he was searching for. As carefully as he could, he picked up the wand and carried it back up the track. He poked Moody hard with his nose and dropped the wand on his partner's chest.
Moody's free hand fumbled for the wand and found it. The last thing Remus saw before he collapsed was a plume of silver rising into the air.
--
'Amanda Stapeley,' Remus said in disgust. 'Who would have thought it?'
Moody grinned at him from across the room. The Auror's face was swathed in bandages, and a linen patch covered the ruin of his left eye. 'Well, she said she liked children.'
'A primary school teacher.' Remus shook his head. 'Why couldn't she just have taken refuge somewhere, far from people?'
'Is that what you'd have done?'
'Something like that.'
'I think she tried.' Moody reached up to brush a non-existent lock of hair away, and grunted. 'I keep forgetting they shaved there. The attacks only started again in the last few months. She'd been managing for years before that.'
'Something must have set her off.'
'Her father died.'
Remus stared at Moody, eyes wide with amazement. Moody nodded. 'Three months ago. I'd guess he knew all about it and helped her out on full moons. Brave man. You wouldn't catch me doing that.'
'No. You just go out and offer yourself as bait.'
Moody grunted again. 'I'll be more careful next time.' He jerked his head at the note, lying beside him on the bedside table.
Mr. Moody,
I have some information about your partner which I think you should know. Meet me on the footpath by the druid's stone at 11 p.m. You must be back inside by moonrise. Constant vigilance!
A Friend
'She was going to murder you and frame me.' Remus lifted his eyes from the note and stared at Moody. 'I wonder how she spotted me.'
'Maybe there's something in this werewolf thing. Can't say I care.'
'You were lucky you didn't get bitten,' Remus said seriously. 'Didn't you think it might be a trap?'
'I wanted to find out who it was. And that back inside by moonrise bit, that was clever. I was half expecting a trap. Only half. Bitch Stupefied me.' Remus suppressed a grin. 'You can laugh. That should have been the end of it. Thank God for Auror training. I realised I'd been had as soon as I came round. Couldn't get down that damn hill fast enough. Constant vigilance, eh? I'll remember that.' Moody snorted.
'You didn't trust me to cover your back?' The look on Moody's face was answer enough. 'Never mind,' Remus said lightly. 'Next time.' He stood up, smoothing down the blanket where he had been sitting. 'I'll get started on the report. You can look it over tomorrow.'
'Make it the day after. There's a bloke coming in to fit my new leg.'
'Wednesday, then. I'll bring grapes.'
'I was thinking, you know. About Gelert.'
'The faithful hound?' Remus had turned away and was reaching for his satchel. Moody's next words hit him like a bucket of iced water.
'Yeah. Trusting his friends didn’t do the dog much good, did it?'
--
Note: I wish I could take credit for the last line, but I can't. Two years ago, hafren wrote me a superb Blake's 7 story as part of an exchange, and the line is taken from that (ETA: and used with permission: thanks!). You can find that story here. I got the idea for my story when we visited Beddgelert in Easter 2005, and again in May, and I liked the implications for Remus of the 'faithful hound'. I started writing the story in May 2005, although Moody didn't appear until after I'd read HBP. I don't know why HBP made me want to write Moody and Remus working together, but it did.
The story of Gelert can be found here. The photograph shows the path Remus walked along and the shepherd's hut is on the back right. And it rained the entire time we were there…
This is a story I started almost two and a half years ago. Finally off the hard drive! Thanks to kennahijja for a wonderful beta job, twice.
Summary: When two children are killed in the picturesque village of Beddgelert, Remus is called in by the Ministry as an unpaid consultant. The Auror he's supposed to be working with doesn't seem too delighted by the idea. Remus, Moody, gen. Set in May 1982. 4400 words. PG-13.
Fidelis
There is a place in north west Wales where twin rivers meet beneath an ancient bridge. The town of Beddgelert nestles within its ring of mountains, a haven for walkers wishing to capture Snowdon's summit, or for pilgrims who come in their thousands each summer to visit the grave of Gelert, the faithful hound.
Remus Lupin had had enough of faithful hounds to last him a lifetime. He tugged the collar of his raincoat up as he walked, grateful for the Impervius that kept his faded clothes dry. It had been raining steadily for hours and the path through the park was awash with water.
He veered right, heading across the soaking grass to the ruined shepherd's hut. He glanced inside. In the twilight, the huge bronze wolfhound guarding the entrance seemed to leap out at him. He stood still for a moment to listen.
Silence.
He can't be here yet. Remus stepped into the hut and fished out his wand. 'Lumos.'
'Nox,' a voice hissed immediately. 'Put that bloody light out.'
Remus looked around. 'I might have been lighting a cigarette,' he said into the darkness.
There was a swishing sound as Moody's head appeared from beneath an Invisibility Cloak. 'Some cigarette,' he snorted. 'And anyway, you don't smoke.'
'They don't know that,' Remus said mildly. He looked at the bronze. 'Gelert, I take it. Is this the grave?'
Moody shook his head. 'That's outside. Safer here. More chance of being overheard in the open.'
'More rain, too. Let's find the hotel.'
--
'Nice room.' Moody wandered across to the window Remus had just opened and closed it. 'Keep that shut. Never know who might be listening.'
'We're on the second floor.'
Moody tossed a parchment onto the bed. 'We think the first sighting was six years ago. A toddler saw a giant hound racing across the snow by the light of the moon. She thought it was the ghost of Gelert.' He emptied a manila envelope onto the counterpane. 'Clippings from Muggle newspapers. Missing sheep. Small animals. The newspapers thought it might be a big cat. It was quite a story for a while.'
Remus remembered the soggy landscape. 'Not exactly cat territory.'
'No. There's no word of an escaped big cat anywhere in the area. The papers gave up on that after a bit and concluded it was a stray dog gone bad. The story died.'
'Until now.'
'Until now. Two children missing in three months. Avril White, aged two, on February 13. Vanished from the cottage her parents were renting in the valley. What was left of her turned up five weeks later. Looked like the body had been mauled by an animal. April 14. Billy Evans went out on his bike after tea and never came back. They found the bike, covered in blood, and the footprints of a big dog in the mud.' Moody paused. Remus watched him glance at the window. 'February 13 and April 14. Those are both -'
'Full moons. Yes. I know.'
'Thought you might.'
Still watching Moody, Remus sat down on the bed. It gave under him and he sagged forward. Moody flinched.
'It has to be a witch or a wizard,' Remus said, pretending he had not noticed. 'Werewolves can kill Muggles but they can't infect them. Grindelwald's experiments in the Black Forest proved that. How many live in the area?'
'Five. Not a big area for wizards. The residual magic from Snowdonia messes with spellwork.'
'Interesting.'
Moody looked puzzled. 'Why?'
'Never mind. I take it you've got names and addresses?'
Moody swept the newspaper cuttings into a pile, then unfolded a map and spread it out on the bed. Tiny flags danced across it. Pointing at a red one, he said, 'Carvix Wootten. Artist. Paints for tourists, mostly.' He indicated a green flag. 'Glenda Nightshade -'
'That can't be her real name.'
'Does the horoscopes for Witch Weekly. Amanda Stapeley. Muggle primary school teacher -'
'Hold on.' Remus frowned. 'Muggle teacher?'
Moody nodded. 'Seems she was a late developer. Never went to Hogwarts. First signs of magic at twenty-six. The Ministry contacted her, of course, and offered retraining, but she said she was happy as she was.'
'Fair enough. And this one?' Remus tapped a grey flag just outside the town.
'Asenby Whitlock. Works for the Department of Mysteries. Top secret.'
'We'll have to pay him a visit all the same.'
'We'll have to pay them all a visit.'
'That'll keep us busy.' He glanced at Moody. 'Why me, incidentally, and not another Auror?'
Moody shrugged. 'Someone at the Ministry thought the best way to sniff out one werewolf was to use another, maybe.'
'What do you think?'
'Ministry nonsense. If it worked, somebody would have already done it.'
Remus reached out to touch the final flag. He said evenly, 'You don't mind working with a werewolf, then.'
There was a pause, then Moody said, 'That's Hagar Hackstraw you've got there. Town butcher. You'll have heard of his uncle: he invented Hackstraw's Patent Potion for Wheezing Wizards. You can get it in pills as well.'
'A butcher,' Remus said thoughtfully. 'He sounds a good bet.'
Half an hour later they had discussed each suspect, marked their homes on a large-scale map of the area and plotted a route for the next day. When Remus suggested a coffee break, Moody decided it was time for bed. As soon as he had gone, Remus opened the window again, and pulled the wing chair over. He rested his cup and saucer on the sill and leaned out, savouring the clean, cold air. As he looked down the hill, the town was spread before him, silent, sleeping and peaceful.
--
'I don't care.' Amanda Stapeley shook her head, her face pink with anger. 'I'm not interested. Leave me alone.'
'It's not that simple.' Moody took a step forward, forcing her to step back into the tiny hallway. As she did so, he pushed past her. 'We'll need to look around. It'll be easier for you if you cooperate.'
'Easier!' She followed him into a neat sitting room. Bright yellow exercise books were piled high on a table, a quill moving vigorously across their pages. Remus wandered over and picked up one of the books, flipping through the comments. Excellent work, Hugh, he read, but watch your spelling. Take care to copy carefully from the board.
The book was taken from his hand. 'That's private.'
He smiled. 'It seems like an excellent way to get the marking done.'
She looked surprised. 'It helps.'
'I bet it does.' Moody had picked up a china shepherd from the mantelpiece and was examining the felt base. 'You know this is hollow?' he remarked, looking across at Remus. 'Could hide anything in here. Course, we'd have to smash it to find out.'
'Alastor -'
'Got an alibi for the fourteenth of April, Miss Stapeley?'
'I don't know. Please put that down.'
Moody nodded and replaced the ornament, banging it carelessly against the wall. Remus winced. 'Have a think, Miss Stapeley,' Moody said, one hand resting on the shepherd's crook. 'Have a long, hard think. We'll be back.'
--
Glenda Nightshade hunched her shoulders as she leaned across the table. Her hands were pale and liver-spotted, the fingers bedecked with rings. Around her neck she wore a jet pendant which disappeared somewhere into the depths of the most impressive cleavage Remus had seen since his fifth year, when he had stumbled across Sirius' secret collection of Playwizard magazines.
'You have a fascinating aura, Mr…' she breathed.
She was close enough for Remus to smell her face powder. He shifted in his chair. 'Lupin. Mr. Lupin.'
'Mr. Lupin.' She gave a tragic sigh, then took his hand in hers. Her grip was surprisingly strong. 'You must be brave. I sense great tragedy in your future.'
You're a little behind the times, Remus thought. He said nothing. She stared at him with wide eyes.
'Life is not easy for those few of us blessed with the Inner Eye,' she continued. 'You will know suffering and loss, but you will prevail.'
Remus forced a smile. 'That's, ah, very reassuring.'
Moody put his cup down on the table with a thunk. Tea splashed onto the green patterned cloth. 'Oops. Now, about your movements three weeks ago last Thursday evening -'
Glenda Nightshade ignored him. 'Some people have no depth,' she whispered, sidling round the table to hiss in Remus' ear. 'Your friend here. He will never commune with spirits on the astral plane. He does not understand the language of the soul.'
'Three weeks,' Moody repeated. 'Last Thursday.' He reached for the cup again, but she forestalled him, moving it swiftly out of his reach. Remus blinked.
'Some of us,' she spat, 'were dallying with dragons.'
'Dragons?' Moody produced a notebook and pen. 'Any particular variety?'
'Variety?'
'You know, Hungarian Horntail, Norwegian Black, Chinese Fireball -'
She threw her hands up in a fury. 'I have no time for trivialities!'
'Of course not,' Remus soothed her. 'But it would be very helpful if you could answer our questions.' He took another swallow of his tea, hoping it wouldn't touch the sides on the way down. 'And then you must tell me where you get this tea. It's delightful.'
--
'Glenda Nightshade, my eye.' Moody slammed the wooden gate. 'Her name's Penelope Polliflex and she was in my year at Hogwarts. Then she was at Madam Malkin's for a bit; got her fingers rapped for passing on the designs. If she's a professional astrologer, I'm Stubby Boardman.'
'No alibi to speak of.'
'No.' A grin split Moody's face. 'You'd think she would have seen that question coming.'
--
Jorrocks had been a Hufflepuff in Remus' year, pale-faced and ginger-haired and forever chewing his fingers. Remus had partnered him in Potions for a term and had watched, fascinated, as the other boy chopped, diced and shredded and then stuck his fingers back in his mouth almost before he had tossed the ingredients into his cauldron. He was a quiet boy, not popular with the others from his House, who said his nightmares kept them awake. Remus had not thought of Jorrocks for several years. He remembered now that Jorrocks had never gone home for the holidays. 'Too frightening,' he had volunteered once, before ramming his knuckles into his mouth and staring at Remus, wide-eyed. His father had worked at the Department of Mysteries.
Remus had not thought of Jorrocks for several years, but he remembered him now as he waited with Moody for Asenby Whitlock's front door to open. Rumours abounded concerning the Department of Mysteries: there were said to be rooms piled high with discarded prophecies, devices that could stop time, and a room so hazardous that its door was always locked. It was certainly true that a good proportion of Unspeakables ended their days as permanent residents of the Janus Thickey Ward at St. Mungo's.
He did not know quite what he had expected of Asenby Whitlock, but it was not this. The man was short and plump with curling dark hair and a smile like a cream-fed Kneazle. He invited them in to a comfortable sitting-room with a spectacular view of the Welsh countryside. Remus watched alertly for signs of nerves. There were none.
Whitlock leaned back in his armchair and steepled his fingers together. 'Let me think,' he mused. 'Three weeks ago last Thursday I was in Cornwall with the family. I was investigating reports of a Lethifold; they were having a holiday.'
'A Lethifold?' Remus frowned.
'Actually a piece of tarpaulin from a campsite. Somebody panicked. Still, better that than not calling it in at all.'
'It seems an odd job for, ah, someone who works at the Department of Mysteries.' Remus had been about to say an Unspeakable but caught himself just in time.
Whitlock's eyes glinted. He said smoothly, 'Does it?' then turned to Moody. 'Do you have any questions?'
Moody grunted. 'Can't say I'd take my family to a Lethifold haunt. And anyway, aren't they restricted to the tropics?'
'Not restricted. There's been one on Bodmin Moor for a number of years.' Whitlock smiled. 'The perils of global warming. Either that or someone brought it here and released it deliberately.'
'You've got witnesses who can confirm your alibi?' Moody's pen hovered over the pages of his notebook.
'Oh, I think so.' Whitlock stood up and crossed to a polished mahogany bureau which stood in one corner of the room. Opening the top, he pulled out a black pocket diary and consulted it. Remus peered past him into the bureau. It was beautifully neat.
'Yes.' Whitlock shut the diary with a flap. 'On that Thursday evening I was attending a private dinner. You'll forgive me if I don't tell you what we discussed.'
Moody was on his feet at once. 'Names?'
'My wife, of course, my very good friend Kirkby Starbeck from the Wizengamot… and oh, yes, the Minister of Magic. Will that be all, gentlemen?'
--
'He's got hairy hands,' Moody said as they walked down the hillside. 'Does that make him a werewolf?'
Remus kicked a piece of flint and watched it bounce along the track. 'My grandmother's got hairy hands,' he said. Then, since Moody was still waiting, 'No, Alastor, she isn't. It's not hereditary. And you can't tell just by looking at someone.'
'Fair enough.' Moody shrugged. He tilted his head upwards and sniffed the air. 'Should be a dry evening. Make a change. Who's next?'
'Hagar Hackstraw. Your friend with the patent pills.'
--
As soon as he saw Hackstraw, Moody's eyes lit up. The butcher was a giant of a man, at least six foot four and with muscles to match. He had flaming red hair and the brightest blue eyes Remus had ever seen.
'Thursday?' he repeated in answer to Moody's question. 'Can't say that I do. Can't say that I'd tell you, even if I did. What business is it of yours where I choose to go?'
'Auror business.' Moody fixed him with a hard stare. 'You can explain here or you can take your chances in London with Veritaserum.' He ran his eyes deliberately over the butcher's shop. 'Might be interesting to see what Magical Law Enforcement make of this place. You can put it together again after they've gone.'
The butcher took the cigarette from his mouth and dropped it next to Moody's boot. His eyes were sullen. 'I was down the pub, wasn't I? The Faithful Hound on Gwynant Street. Ask anyone.'
Moody smiled. Remus and the butcher flinched. 'Much better.' Moody brought his boot down on the cigarette, crushing it into the tiled floor. 'Don't go anywhere. We might want you again.'
'Bloody London.' The butcher was pale. 'Bloody English, bossing us around. You think you're so clever, don’t you?'
'You got a problem with that?' Moody moved to stand in front of Hackstraw, staring up at him. The butcher took a step back. Moody shook his head and turned away. 'Come on, Lupin. One more call to make, then we can go for a drink.'
--
'He's our man.' Moody was jubilant as they rounded the corner and headed towards a group of pretty stone cottages.
'What makes you think that?'
'All that aggression. You said yourself, the butcher's the obvious choice. Great job for a werewolf. What about you?'
'What?'
'Why didn’t you become a butcher?'
Remus blinked. Before he could answer, Moody was banging on the painter's front door. There was no reply.
'Curtains drawn, no one at home.' Moody winked. 'Let's have a look around.'
They scrambled over the low wall and wandered around to the back. From the centre of the small garden a hideous stone gnome grinned at them atop a wishing well. Moody gave it an appreciative look. 'Wouldn't mind something like that in my garden.'
Remus stared at him. 'If we're wrong about the butcher, you might be able to take this one.'
'Good point. Alohomora.' Moody pushed the kitchen door open and they stepped inside. The room was in darkness. 'Hall should be this - shh!' From somewhere inside the cottage came the sound of low voices. The two men exchanged glances and began to edge towards the noise. At a closed door leading to the front of the house, they stopped. Moody nodded at the door. In here, he mouthed. There was a scream from inside the room as he kicked the door open.
A man and a woman were entwined on a sheepskin rug in front of a coal fire. Light from the flames cast a ruddy glow on their skin.
'Carvix Wootten, I take it?' Moody put his wand away. 'Nice to meet you again, Ms. Nightshade.'
Glenda Nightshade grabbed a throw from a nearby armchair and hugged it in front of her. 'You've got a nerve!' she burst out, glaring at Moody. 'Breaking into someone's home -'
'We did knock,' Remus interrupted. He realised that he was admiring the painted dragon on the throw and looked away hastily.
'I expected better of you, Mr Lupin.'
'Let's start again.' Moody sat down on the arm of a sofa. Crossing his legs, he balanced the notebook on one knee and licked the end of his quill. 'Dallying with, ah, dragons, wasn't it, Ms. Nightshade?'
--
Remus banged his pint down on the table and scowled at Moody. 'Three with alibis. Two without. If we let Wootten and Nightshade alibi each other, that is. If we don't, the only one with an alibi is Whitlock.'
'He's not going to be easy to crack if he's lying.' Moody folded his arms and glared around the pub. '"My very good friend from the Wizengamot"' He snorted. 'I've got a friend on the Wizengamot too, if it comes to that. It's the Minister of Magic that's the problem. Bloody bureaucrats.'
'Either way, it doesn't look like we're going to crack this before tomorrow's full moon. What happens next?'
Moody took a long draught of his pint and wiped froth from his lip. 'If it was up to me I'd intern the whole damn lot of them, Minister of Magic or no Minister of Magic. That's the trouble with werewolves, they look just like ordinary people.'
'Most of the time,' Remus said pointedly, 'they are ordinary people.'
Moody ignored the interruption. 'I'll have to tell some bright spark that this werewolf idea hasn't worked. I never thought it would. Money for jam, though. How much are they paying you?' Remus gave him a level look and said nothing. Moody shifted uncomfortably in his chair and took another sip of beer.
'It's not so bad,' Remus said after a moment. 'Good food and a comfortable bed. I'm not complaining. And this beer isn't bad at all. I suppose that'll end when you make your report.'
'Not necessarily. Tomorrow we switch to Plan B.'
'Plan B?'
There's a bloke called Belby, you might have heard of him, developed a potion for the Ministry. It's a still a bit experimental, so they're looking for volunteers. Have you heard of Wolfsbane?'
'Everyone's heard of it. You can't mean -'
'Surrender your wand and I'm authorised to offer you Wolfsbane for tomorrow night.'
'And if I don't?' Even as he asked, Remus knew he had no choice.
'If everything Dumbledore says about the transformation is true, you will.' Moody stretched his hand across the table, palm upwards. Remus nodded slowly, and handed over his wand.
--
'Here.' Moody dumped a smoking goblet on the desk. 'Looks disgusting.'
'Thanks.' Remus glanced out of the window. 'Two hours till the moon comes up,' he observed. 'I'm going to make a cup of tea. Join me?' Moody looked alarmed. 'No, I thought not. What are you going to do?'
'Go for a walk, have a bath, have a think. Maybe all three.' Moody raised his wand and pointed it at the window. 'Colloportus. I'll be back in an hour. Don't go anywhere.'
Remus felt his face go pale with anger. 'Going to lock the door as well?'
Moody bared his teeth in a grin. 'Think you can stop me? Feel free to try.'
--
Crossing to the window for the hundredth time, Remus stared at the sky. Only a few minutes to moonrise. What had happened to Moody? He shook his head. It was irrelevant; he could not afford to remain trapped in the hotel for his transformation, in case something went wrong and he was discovered. Just my luck, he thought sourly, if someone set off the fire alarm. Grabbing the empty goblet, he brought it down hard against the glass pane.
Twelve minutes later he raised himself onto unsteady legs and sniffed the twilight. His limbs were stiff and he ached all over, but the transformation had not been as bad as he had feared. The wolf surged within him, but he was still himself, still Remus, and he was confident that he could maintain control. It was a disturbing feeling to look down at himself and see the long, dangerous claws where he had expected fingers. The wolf's brown fur was streaked with grey, like his own; Remus smiled, and felt his jaws open in a snarl.
Moody's familiar scent struck his nostrils, somewhere ahead of him on the slope. Remus lifted his head and sniffed again, then set off after him, avoiding the footpath. The last thing he wanted was to meet a late rambler.
The scent grew stronger as he trudged through bracken and soaking grass. As he closed the distance between them he began to pick out emotions - irritation, uncertainty, the first drift of fear. And then his questing nose picked up another smell, dog-like, but not a dog. Something was stalking Moody and it was hungry.
Rounding a heap of tumbled boulders, he saw a dark shape silhouetted against the skyline, hurrying down the hill. Moody's coat flapped around his legs in the wind. He was making heavy weather of the descent, stumbling as if he had been drinking. Remus felt his hackles rise and his ears go flat.
A gaunt grey shape flashed from a clump of ragged trees, bowling into Moody and bringing him down. Remus heard a cry, then only snapping and snarling, and the sound of falling scree. He raced towards his partner as if his life depended on it . Moody's wand arced past him as he ran, green sparks showering in its wake.
Two shapes rolled over and over in the wet grass, coming to rest with the wolf on top. It was a female, Remus noticed as he hurtled towards them, its jaws snapping at Moody's throat. The Auror had both hands clamped around its muzzle, holding the jagged teeth at bay. Blood streamed from a tear in his trousers and his right leg was open to the bone. A giant claw raked his face from ear to ear, and he screamed and fell back, his hands dropping away. Blood spurted from the wound. The smell was intoxicating. Remus reeled. He had not realised how hungry he was. Get a grip, he told himself, and leapt at the strange wolf. His claws took her low in the flank, carrying her up and away from Moody's body.
It did not take him long to realise that he was stronger than his rival. The end was only a matter of time. The female realised it, too, and tried to pull away, but Remus twisted and nipped and tore until she was forced to turn and fight. She howled at him in fear and rage, hurling herself at him again and again, until finally she collapsed at his feet, rolling over to expose her belly with a whimper of submission. He looked into her eyes and saw only fear and the desire to stay alive. I'm sorry, he thought, and bent to rip out her throat.
He staggered away, desperately thirsty and aching all over, and wondered what to do next. Moody was lying not far away, one hand flung over his face, his coat sleeve already thick with blood. Remus gave an interrogative growl, and heard a faint moan in reply.
Still conscious, then. Thank God for that. He staggered down the hillside, sniffing the grass. Eventually he found what he was searching for. As carefully as he could, he picked up the wand and carried it back up the track. He poked Moody hard with his nose and dropped the wand on his partner's chest.
Moody's free hand fumbled for the wand and found it. The last thing Remus saw before he collapsed was a plume of silver rising into the air.
--
'Amanda Stapeley,' Remus said in disgust. 'Who would have thought it?'
Moody grinned at him from across the room. The Auror's face was swathed in bandages, and a linen patch covered the ruin of his left eye. 'Well, she said she liked children.'
'A primary school teacher.' Remus shook his head. 'Why couldn't she just have taken refuge somewhere, far from people?'
'Is that what you'd have done?'
'Something like that.'
'I think she tried.' Moody reached up to brush a non-existent lock of hair away, and grunted. 'I keep forgetting they shaved there. The attacks only started again in the last few months. She'd been managing for years before that.'
'Something must have set her off.'
'Her father died.'
Remus stared at Moody, eyes wide with amazement. Moody nodded. 'Three months ago. I'd guess he knew all about it and helped her out on full moons. Brave man. You wouldn't catch me doing that.'
'No. You just go out and offer yourself as bait.'
Moody grunted again. 'I'll be more careful next time.' He jerked his head at the note, lying beside him on the bedside table.
Mr. Moody,
I have some information about your partner which I think you should know. Meet me on the footpath by the druid's stone at 11 p.m. You must be back inside by moonrise. Constant vigilance!
A Friend
'She was going to murder you and frame me.' Remus lifted his eyes from the note and stared at Moody. 'I wonder how she spotted me.'
'Maybe there's something in this werewolf thing. Can't say I care.'
'You were lucky you didn't get bitten,' Remus said seriously. 'Didn't you think it might be a trap?'
'I wanted to find out who it was. And that back inside by moonrise bit, that was clever. I was half expecting a trap. Only half. Bitch Stupefied me.' Remus suppressed a grin. 'You can laugh. That should have been the end of it. Thank God for Auror training. I realised I'd been had as soon as I came round. Couldn't get down that damn hill fast enough. Constant vigilance, eh? I'll remember that.' Moody snorted.
'You didn't trust me to cover your back?' The look on Moody's face was answer enough. 'Never mind,' Remus said lightly. 'Next time.' He stood up, smoothing down the blanket where he had been sitting. 'I'll get started on the report. You can look it over tomorrow.'
'Make it the day after. There's a bloke coming in to fit my new leg.'
'Wednesday, then. I'll bring grapes.'
'I was thinking, you know. About Gelert.'
'The faithful hound?' Remus had turned away and was reaching for his satchel. Moody's next words hit him like a bucket of iced water.
'Yeah. Trusting his friends didn’t do the dog much good, did it?'
--
Note: I wish I could take credit for the last line, but I can't. Two years ago, hafren wrote me a superb Blake's 7 story as part of an exchange, and the line is taken from that (ETA: and used with permission: thanks!). You can find that story here. I got the idea for my story when we visited Beddgelert in Easter 2005, and again in May, and I liked the implications for Remus of the 'faithful hound'. I started writing the story in May 2005, although Moody didn't appear until after I'd read HBP. I don't know why HBP made me want to write Moody and Remus working together, but it did.
The story of Gelert can be found here. The photograph shows the path Remus walked along and the shepherd's hut is on the back right. And it rained the entire time we were there…