Family Values
They Stole My Werewolf!
By Ishtar
FAMILY VALUES
Disclaimer: (plural: disclaimers)
1. One who disclaims, disowns, or renounces.
2. (Law): A denial, disavowal, or renunciation, as of a title, claim, interest, estate, or trust; relinquishment or waiver of an interest or estate.
3. A public disavowal, as of pretensions, claims, opinions, and the like.
4. A statement that I don’t own anything related to Harry Potter or The Addams Family.
Chapter 07: They Stole My Werewolf!
August was the slowest time in Albus Dumbledore’s year. Both the Wizengamot and the International Confederation of Wizards were in recess except for dire emergencies, and the staff of Hogwarts had the business of summer maintenance well in hand. The professors rarely changed their lesson plans, so with the exception of whoever he'd convinced to take the Defence against the Dark Arts position this year, he didn't have to read and approve those. Argus Filch was directing an army of house elves in cleaning the castle top to bottom. Rubeus Hagrid had another army tending to the grounds and gardens. Irma Pince was working on her list of new volumes needed to restock the library, Severus Snape had already ordered the new potions supplies for the year and was now helping Poppy Pomfrey stock up the Hospital Wing, Miranda Butterworth was restocking the kitchens and Winnie Winkle had her house elf laundry staff washing, repairing or replacing all the linens in the castle, from towels to bed curtains. All he really needed to do was approve the requisitions for new books, potions supplies, food and linens. This, unfortunately, gave him time to plot.
Since he had lost his agent in the Muggle world, he had to find a new one. It needed to be someone who was capable of moving in the Muggle world without attracting notice. It needed to be someone who would not be missed in the larger Wizarding community. It needed to be someone who trusted Dumbledore and would follow his instructions unhesitatingly. What's more, it had to be someone with a strong enough interest in Harry Potter to be willing to do something possibly immoral and illegal (but not, he thought, fattening) in order to reclaim the boy and bring him back to Britain, where he belonged. And it had to be someone who was plausibly deniable, so that in case something went wrong, nothing could be traced back to him — Dumbledore had learned what "strike two" meant by now, and did not wish to find out what "strike three" would mean.
There was really only one person it could be. The Headmaster re-sealed the envelope the photographs had arrived in, and then asked Remus Lupin to come visit him for tea.
0o0o0o0o0
"Remus, my boy! Come in, come in. Thank you for indulging an old man."
"Old? Never. You're only what, a hundred fifty or so? Griselda Marchbanks is older than that."
"Yes, and she keeps reminding me of it every time she comes to administer the O.W.L. and N.E.W.T. tests, too. Makes me feel like I'm taking them all over again," said Dumbledore ruefully. "Dreadful old harridan."
Remus laughed, and Dumbledore served the tea while looking critically at the younger man. Remus had only just passed the age of thirty, and his face, as most wizards', did not show his true age, but bits of grey were appearing in his brown hair. His robes were shabby and out of style. "I wanted to find out how you were doing, Remus. We really haven't had a chance to sit down and talk for years now. I regret that."
"It has been a long time, hasn't it, Headmaster? I don't think we've had a real conversation since … since James and Lily …"
"No, we haven't. Things have been so busy since then, I really haven't had a chance to catch up with anyone. So tell me, how are you doing? I always had great hopes for you, my boy. Great hopes."
"Well, I've been doing a little of this, a little of that. I haven't been able to hold a position very well, unfortunately. I get by."
"What have you been doing for the full moons?" asked Dumbledore curiously.
"My mother remarried; a squib farmer who's willing to put up with my — infirmity — in exchange for the prestige of having a witch for a wife. They have an old stone barn on their property. A few silencing charms, and hey presto — a perfect place for a werewolf to hide."
As they chatted, an owl flew in through Dumbledore's open window and landed on the arm of his chair. It was a bit awkward in landing, since it had a flat Muggle envelope attached to its leg instead of a rolled up parchment. Dumbledore relieved it of its burden and sent it on its way.
Lupin tactfully concentrated on sipping his tea while Dumbledore opened the envelope and pulled out its contents. After reading the enclosed note and looking briefly at the pictures, the Headmaster let out a long sigh, visibly distraught.
"Headmaster? Are you all right?"
"Thank you, Remus, yes, I'm fine. It's just …" He shrugged and slid the envelope's contents back into it.
Remus had never seen the Headmaster at a loss for words before. "Is it bad news? Surely not … not You-Know-Who?" It was perhaps typical of a young wizard who had come to maturity during the last war that the possibility of the Dark Lord returning was the first thing that came to mind.
"Oh, no, nothing like that," Dumbledore hastened to reassure him. "It's something I've … well, perhaps you should know. You do have an interest in it, after all." He held out the envelope to the younger man.
"An interest?" Remus took the envelope gingerly and pulled a letter and three Muggle photographs out of it. The first two pictures were of a little girl and two boys. In the first, the little girl had her head and hands through a pillory, with the two boys standing on either side of her. The little girl had to stand on her tiptoes to get her head through the pillory. The stockier of the two boys was holding a fake cat o' nine tails, while the slimmer, dark-haired one was pretending to declaim something from a scroll. The words "Salem Witchcraft Museum" were visible on a sign on the wall behind them. In the second, a dark haired, sunken-eyed man held one of the two boys in his arms, while the boy waved at the camera. The two were posed, most unsettlingly, in front of a moss- covered tomb; Remus could see the edges of gravestones behind the tomb, so supposed they were in the middle of a substantial graveyard. The third picture was a close-up of the boy alone, with a large snake draped around his neck; the boy had a gap-toothed smile, showing that he had recently lost a couple of teeth, as he held the snake's head up for the camera. The final shot showed clearly the boy's green eyes, ruffled black hair, and a distinctive lightning-bolt scar on his forehead. "That’s not … is that Harry?"
Dumbledore watched the expression of shock spread across Remus's face. Really, he thought, the Addamses couldn't have picked a better selection of pictures to unsettle a British Wizard. "Read the note," he said, quietly.
Remus's fingers shook slightly as he unfolded the sheet of creamy paper. It was black-bordered, the sort of thing one usually used to notify someone of a death.
Dear Mr. Dumbledore,
I hope this letter finds you well.
As you can see, Harry is healthy and doing well. We will send you pictures and updates so that you may be assured of his well-being. His school grades are excellent, and heretofore hidden talents are surfacing. We are very pleased, and have already begun to make plans for a proper education for him.
We appreciate your forbearance this year, and would like to assure you that we will still consider sending Harry to your School when the time comes, although that will change if there is any further custodial interference.
I remind you of the adage you read on our ancestor’s tomb, Mr. Dumbledore. Do not start with us. You will not win.
Very truly yours,
Morticia A. Addams
"What is this all about?" asked Remus in a hoarse whisper. "Who are these people? Why do they have Harry? I thought he was being raised somewhere safe!"
"I made a terrible mistake, Remus. I sent Harry to live with Lily’s family, her sister in fact, who was his closest living kin. Since Lily was Muggle-born, I felt it would be better for him to have a normal childhood in the Muggle world than one living in the limelight of the Wizarding world."
"But Lily’s sister hates magic!" Remus exclaimed. "She used to tell us stories about how awful Petunia was to her. And it only got worse after her sister got married. Didn’t you know?"
"Kin is kin, Remus. I know that Lily and Petunia didn’t like each other very much, but it was the safest place for him to stay, where he could be protected from Voldemort."
"But who was going to protect him from them?" asked Remus. Maybe You Know Who was gone, but they could have done anything to him. What happened? Did they beat him? Did he have to be taken away by child welfare? And how did he wind up with these … these people?" he asked, waving the pictures.
"As far as I know, he was not beaten or mistreated. But Petunia, with a son of her own about the same age, was overworked and unable to take on a second child. Harry needed more care than she was willing to give. However it happened, she made a connection with this Morticia Addams in the United States. I believe there is some familial relation there, although it is distant."
"So this … Morticia adopted Harry?"
"No, there has been no adoption. She and her husband assumed guardianship, however. I went to visit them, in an attempt to regain custody, and found them most uncooperative. I even brought a case against them in the Muggle courts, which did not end well. This," he said, gesturing at the letter and pictures, "is an attempt to remind me that they have the upper hand, and that Harry’s welfare is completely in their hands."
"Welfare? Look at these pictures! You call that welfare?"
"True, true. The family is disturbingly Dark."
"You mean they’re magical?"
"I don’t believe the family is magical — although by now they certainly know that Harry is — just look at the comment in their letter about ‘special talents’. The area they live in is a Wild Magic sink, and it’s affected them, over the years. They’re odd, even for Muggles. They’re fascinated with all that is strange and bizarre. You can see for yourself. They let Harry play with dangerous snakes — the one he has there is a Copperhead, I believe. Quite deadly. They take him, and their own children, to places that celebrate the destruction of witches and let them play at being pilloried. They have a cemetery in their garden, and an iron maiden in the kitchen. They eat cats. I fear for Harry, I really do. I’m afraid that these people will turn him as Dark as Voldemort was — perhaps worse, if he grows up knowing nothing else. I wish there was a way to get Harry out of there, but my hands are tied."
"What about the Ministry?"
"The Ministry knows nothing about this. I placed Harry with Petunia Dursley of my own accord, because I was afraid that if the Ministry got involved, Harry might be placed with a family that was more interested in the influence they could have over him than his well-being. It was borderline illegal, but I believed it was the right thing to do. But if I admit it now, Harry will become a pawn, as I feared. So here I am, hoist on my own petard," Dumbledore said glumly.
"Surely there’s something someone can do," said Remus. "What about James and Lily’s Wills? Wasn’t there some direction there?"
"Alas, I never submitted it to be probated," admitted Dumbledore. "They named four possible Guardians for Harry: Sirius Black. Peter Pettigrew, Alice Longbottom, and yourself. At the time, I believed Petunia to be the better choice. It could be submitted now, but I’m not sure what good it would do. Of those four, you’re the only one who could possibly serve."
"And I’m not a fit Guardian for a child," said Remus morosely. "What in the world would I do with him on the full moons? I might hurt him. Or worse. And I haven’t nearly the wherewithal to support a child."
"What about your mother? Do you think she might be willing to mind him those nights? I do think you’d be an excellent Guardian otherwise. Never mind the costs, he has a trust that would support both of you easily, as well as paying his Hogwarts fees." Dumbledore sighed again. "But that’s neither here nor there at this point. If we could get Harry here, we could submit the Will for processing and you could get custody. But the Americans have already told me they will not intervene, and the people who have Harry are not likely to let him go."
"That’s because they’ve never faced a Marauder in defence of his cub," said Remus, decisively.
"Now, Remus, don’t do anything foolish," said Dumbledore.
"Foolish? No, I don’t believe it will be foolish at all," said Remus. "I won’t say more, that way if anyone asks if you told me to do something, both you and I can honestly say ‘no’. Thank you for the tea, Headmaster. I’ll be in touch." He left the Headmaster’s office with a new determination evident in his stride.
"Good luck, my boy," said the Headmaster. "Good luck."
0o0o0o0o0
Harry, Wednesday and Pugsley headed out into the woods. It was the last weekend of the summer vacation, and the heat and humidity were oppressive. The children had talked Uncle Fester into playing Indians with them again, and had chased him into the trees, giving him a good head start. Both boys had taken their shirts off and put war paint on their faces and chests, while Wednesday had settled for wearing a headband with a feather in it along with her normal black jeans and t-shirt. All three children carried their wands along with knives in sheaths, hatchets, bows and arrows, and beaded shoulder bags that contained their lunches.
They had been sneaking about for some time, when Harry stooped to look at the ground. "Huh. Look at this." The other two bent to look, as well. "That's not Uncle Fester's footprint, is it, Pugsley?"
"Harry, you're supposed to use our Indian names!" Wednesday scolded.
"Sorry, Little Blackbird. That's not the white man's footprint, is it, Flying Buffalo?"
"No, it isn't, Wild Moose," said Pugsley. "Uncle Fester's feet are bigger than that."
A little green snake wiggled through the weeds and leaf litter at their feet. Harry hissed at it quietly, and it hissed back.
"There's somebody watching us," he said, keeping his voice quiet, so only Wednesday and Pugsley could hear. "He's behind that tree," he said, pointing while pretending to scratch his nose. "He's invisible. The snake could taste him but not see him."
"That means he's a wizard. This isn't a game any more, is it?" asked Wednesday, quietly.
"Nope. We're too far from home, he'd catch up with us if we tried to run. But if he wanted to hurt us, he would have done it already. Let's pretend we don't know he's there and keep trying to find Uncle Fester." All the children had been told about Albus Dumbledore and the mad old wizard's attempt to take Harry away, and they had been told what to do if a stranger approached them, particularly one with a British accent. They were all very careful, because Harry didn't want to be taken away. How could he marry Wednesday someday if he was taken away? So they had all practiced how to yell and scream if anyone suspicious approached them on the street. But they hadn't planned on someone sneaking up on them in the woods.
"Aren't we near where we set that trap yesterday?" asked Pugsley.
"Yes," said Harry, a smile coming to his face. "The snare over by the Snake Den. Let's angle over that way and see if it's caught anything. If not, we can make sure it does." He was still worried, but he had the beginnings of a plan now.
They headed off, changing their course slightly up hill of the direction they had been heading. All three children, listening carefully, could now hear the sounds of someone who was trying to be stealthy following a short distance behind them. When they came to the clearing where they had set their trap the previous day, they were happy to see that it hadn't been set off by wandering deer or Uncle Fester. They crossed the clearing cautious, being very careful not to set it off themselves, and passed between two bushes on the opposite side, so that they were temporarily hidden from the stalker.
"Now let's try to catch him!" whispered Harry. "Wednesday, get ready to scream."
He threw himself to the ground with a loud thump, crying, "Ow!"
"Harry!" Wednesday screamed, maybe a little louder than was necessary. "Are you all right?"
Someone across the clearing swore and ran forward towards them. With a swoosh and a flurry of leaves, the noose of the snare trap they had set tightened around an unwary foot and the bent and pegged branch came loose, jerking the trap's victim upside down. There was another curse, presumably as his head hit the ground.
Harry rolled to his feet and the three children returned to the clearing, being careful not to step into the reach of their 'prey'. Their trap had sprung, and there was a large invisible something dangling from the taut rope. It wasn’t completely invisible, looking like the shimmer of heat haze one could see in a parking lot on a hot day, but they could only barely tell that it was human by the outline. It was struggling quite a bit, judging from the way the rope was jerking about. Harry glanced at the ground. Sure enough, there was a wand, where it had been dropped when its owner parted company with the ground. It might still be in reach of its owner, when and if he stopped flailing about. Harry took a deep breath to steady himself, then tumbled forward and over the wand, righting himself with it clutched in his hand.
The other children nocked arrows in their bows and drew, trying to aim at where they thought the body would be.
"All right, whoever you are," Harry commanded. "Let us see you!"
"Give me my wand!" said an adult voice with a distinct British accent. "That stick you have in your hand!"
Harry rolled his eyes. "We’re young, not stupid! I’m not giving it back!" He pulled his red wand out of his bag and flicked it in the direction of the invisible person. "Finite incantatem!"
Nothing happened. He tried it again, with the stranger’s wand this time. Still nothing.
"I have to tap myself with the wand!" said the voice, obviously trying to sound reasonable.
"Oh. You can stay invisible, then. Wednesday — "
"Little Blackbird!" she said, stamping her foot.
"Okay, okay. Little Blackbird. You go find Uncle Fester. Take his wand," Harry said, passing her the stranger’s wand. "We’ll stay and make sure he doesn’t escape."
"How come I have to go find Uncle Fester? Is it because I’m a girl?"
"No, it’s because you find him best."
"Okay, then. Don’t scalp him till I come back," she instructed them.
"Not even a little?" asked Pugsley, fingering his sheathed knife.
"Not even a little," she said, and trotted off between the trees.
"Now boys, this has gone far enough," said the voice, somewhat shakily. The talk of 'scalping' had apparently got to him. "Get me down this instant!"
Harry grinned at Pugsley. "He must think we’re little kids. He doesn’t know who he’s messing with!"
"All right, who am I, er, ‘messing with’?"
"He’s Flying Buffalo, and I’m Wild Moose. She’s Little Blackbird," Harry said, waving in the direction Wednesday had gone. "We’re the Tribe of the Snake. Who are you?"
There was a sigh of resignation. "My name is Remus Lupin, Harry. Your parents were friends of mine."
"Yeah, right. Tell me another one," said Harry. "How come I’ve never heard of you before?"
"I only just found out where you were, Harry. I’ve come a long way to see you."
"Then how come you’re sneaking around in the woods? How come you didn’t knock on the door like a regular person?" There was silence. "Right. No good answer."
"Maybe he’s just passed out," suggested Pugsley. "No, wait … the rope’s moving too much. He’s trying to get at the knot."
"Try that jinx we were practicing the other day. Then even if he gets down, he still won’t be able to go anywhere."
Pugsley drew his wand and fired off a perfect Jelly-Legs Jinx, which their prisoner apparently recognized, judging from his cry of frustration, and the two boys settled down calmly to eat their lunches while they waited for Wednesday and Uncle Fester.
They were finishing off their apples when Uncle Fester stepped out of the bushes, with Wednesday right behind him. "So, where’s this invisible man you caught?"
"Right there," Harry said, pointing at the rope, which was now jerking frantically. "We thought he might try to get loose, so Pugsley jinxed him."
"How about getting him visible again?" asked their Uncle. "It’ll be a little difficult getting him back to the house if we can’t see him."
"He says he has to be tapped on the head with his wand to break the spell. We figured we’d wait until you could sit on him or something to make sure he didn’t get away."
"That will work," said Uncle Fester. Suiting action to words, he borrowed Harry’s knife and cut the rope. The invisible prisoner tumbled to the ground. Uncle Fester tossed the knife a safe distance away and then jumped on their captive, landing directly on top of him.
The children giggled as they watched him struggle with the unseen man. It looked very silly.
"Okay, got him … here’s his head, somebody give him a whack."
Wednesday followed instructions exactly.
"Ow!" The heat haze underneath Uncle Fester faded, revealing a brown-haired man of medium height. He was wearing a tweedy brown suit and dress shoes which were completely unsuitable for roaming around in the woods. "Get off me, you great oaf!"
"Now is that any way to talk to the man who just got you down? I can hang you upside down in the tree again if you want." The man on the ground didn’t reply, but continued struggling futilely. He managed to tear himself free from Fester’s grip, which impressed the boys, because nobody was stronger than Uncle Fester, and made a desperate lunge at Wednesday, who still had his wand. She jumped backwards, just out of his reach.
Uncle Fester did not have an unlimited store of patience. As a matter of fact, it was pretty severely limited, and the stranger’s attack on Wednesday exhausted it completely. With a roar of anger, Fester slammed his massive fist into the stranger’s jaw. The man fell to the ground and didn’t move again.
"That’s more like it. Help me get him up, kids, we have to take him home." He got the stranger up in a fireman’s carry while the children picked up all their belongings, and they headed down slope to the house.
0o0o0o0o0
Remus Lupin had awakened to find himself in a bit of a tight spot, and cursed himself for having fallen for a trick like the one Harry had pulled. A Marauder, especially, should not have fallen for that. Unfortunately, Harry's trick had awakened an old memory, and that had him rushing in without being cautious. That led to him being yanked upside down by one ankle, jinxed, and assaulted by that bald bruiser they called an uncle. Returning to consciousness, he discovered that he was stretched out and bound on a hard flat surface, perhaps a table or bench. He was shirtless and shoeless, but still had his trousers and socks on, so that was a plus. Once he was able to focus, he looked around.
The room was something out of a nightmare. The walls were windowless, but gaslights provided enough light for him to see a variety of whips, chains and torture implements dangling from hooks on the walls. There was even a hangman's noose in the corner. He lifted his head and was able to see enough of the device to which he was bound to determine that it was actually a rack. It looked functional, too. This was not good, not good at all. Straining, he lifted his head more and saw a thick oaken door at the far end of the room. It was open a few inches, and next to it was a straight-backed chair with a dismembered hand lying on it. Was this a not so subtle warning of what lay in store for him? His captors seemed to have left him alone for the moment, so he hoped he might be able to escape. He was stronger, much stronger, than he looked, so maybe he could break the ropes on the rack.
As he strained at his bindings, he heard a scrabbling noise from the door. He looked over and gasped in horror. The hand had risen up on its fingers. It flipped over to stand on its wrist, and waggled its index finger at him in a gesture Remus understood to mean "no", then leaped off the chair and scuttled out the door on its fingertips, almost like some kind of large spider.
Remus sighed and tried to relax in his bonds. He was going to have company in just a few moments, he was sure.
The door swung open, and three people entered. One was a tall, slim woman in a tight-fitting black dress. She was extremely pale, and if he hadn’t known better, he’d have thought she was a vampire. As a matter of fact, it occurred to him belatedly, he didn’t know better. She might actually be a vampire at that. She was accompanied by two men, one the pasty faced, sunken eyed fellow who had brought him down in the woods, who still had bits of leaves stuck to a knobbly knit black turtle neck jumper that made him appear to have no neck, and one the swarthy man who had been holding Harry in the picture taken in the graveyard. His clothing appeared to be skirting the line between elegance and decadence, and wouldn’t have been out of place in Diagon Alley or Hogsmeade.
Behind the three adults came three children, Harry and the other two from the woods, all properly dressed now, although there was still a smudge of war paint on Harry’s cheek. A hag wearing a green robe that fit more like a sack hovered over them. The children lined up against the wall, a safe distance away from him. All three of the children wore unemotional, blank expressions, and his heart sank. This was nothing for children to see.
Finally, the hand was back, jumping up on the chair as if to see better — although what it saw with, Remus had no idea.
Mentally, Remus raged at the distant Headmaster, although he knew he himself had more responsibility for his current situation. Dumbledore, you old coot, how could you possibly think these people were Muggles?
The slim woman took up a position on Remus’s left, the bulky man on his right. The slimmer man stood at Remus’s feet, resting one foot casually on the roller to which Remus’s ankles were chained. He reached into his trouser pocket and pulled out a wallet. Remus’s wallet.
"Remus J. Lupin, age such, address such, identification number so and so. Resident of Market Harborough? Such interesting names your towns have. One wonders, Mr. Lupin, just what business you had traipsing through the woods and attacking our children?"
"I wasn’t attacking them."
"Could have fooled me," muttered the young girl.
"Now, Wednesday, no talking when we’re interrogating the prisoner," said the woman. "You’ll get your turn later."
"She had my wand," Remus said, as if that explained everything.
"This wand?" said his questioner, holding up the familiar long, slim shaft of blackthorn. "It will be a while before we can buy wands for the children. I wonder if they could use this to practice with in the meantime."
"No!" said Remus, in a bit of panic. It was always disturbing to have one’s wand in the hands of someone else, and to think of his being used by those children … "It won’t work for someone else. It’s personalised to me." That was true enough — the core was a whisker from his own wolf form. That wand would never work for anyone else. Not as long as he lived. Of course, he wasn't about to tell them that. "I wouldn't have hurt her. But I had to get it back."
"You wouldn't have hurt her intentionally, maybe. But you're a lot stronger than you look if you were able to best Fester. You could have hurt her accidentally. That's why we have you tied down, to keep the children safe. I would kill for them — any of them, including Harry. I would die for them. But I don't plan on doing either today." He handed the wand to the hag. "Grandmama, put that in the vault. Thing will stay with the children."
Grandmama took the wand in one wizened hand, and gave it an experimental swish. Nothing happened, but she grinned like a little child and shuffled out through the door, still swishing as she went. The hand leaped up onto the shoulder of the little girl in what was obviously meant to be a comforting manner as the hag left.
"Now then," said the swarthy man, "Let's get down to business, shall we?"
"Gomez, you're forgetting something," said the woman, speaking for the first time. "We've not properly introduced ourselves to our guest."
"Oh, of course. Forgive me, my dear. Mr Lupin, allow me to introduce myself. I am Gomez Addams, the Addams of Addams, the father of two of those lovely children over there, and your host. The lovely lady to your left is my wife, Morticia, the heart and soul of our little Family. The not-so-lovely gentleman on your right is my brother, Fester, my right hand and the guardian of my back. The children are my daughter, Wednesday, my son and heir, Pugsley, and my ward, Harry Potter. The Thing is … Thing. Our butler has already gone to pick up your things from your motel; one way or another, you won’t be going back. Welcome to our humble abode."
"I'd say I'm pleased to meet you all, but the circumstances are rather difficult," said Remus, attempting to match Addams' bantering tone.
"About all we know of you, Mr Lupin, is that you were following our children about in the woods and attempted to attack my daughter. Oh, and you're a wizard. You can understand that we have a few questions. So we're going to put them to you, and you can answer. Or not, if you choose. But we really do advise that you answer. You wouldn't like what happens if you don't."
"I can imagine," muttered Remus.
"No, I don't think you do," said Gomez, jovially. "You see, if you don't tell us what's going on, we're just going to call the police and hand you over to them. Without that lovely little stick of yours, you might find it a bit difficult to extricate yourself. You'd find that the authorities hereabouts are not very fond of grown men who chase little children through the woods. Neither are some of the other people they have in their custody. I think I can guarantee that you'd have a very unpleasant time of it."
"Very," said Remus dryly. Whoever was sharing his cell would have a very unpleasant time of it too, come the next full moon. And then doubtless the American Aurors would get involved, and he had no idea what their policies on werewolves were, and didn’t want to find out. Honesty, he decided, was probably the best policy here.
"Why exactly were you following our children today?"
"I just wanted to see Harry."
"Just see him?"
"I wanted to know that he was all right. That he was happy."
"And if he wasn’t?"
"Then I’d … see what I could do about it."
"What did you think you could possibly do?"
"His parents — James and Lily — they were my best friends. I found out they left a Will, but it was never probated. It named me as one of the guardians for Harry. It would give me the right to raise him."
"And how did you find out about this Will?"
"Albus Dumbledore told me about it."
Gomez’s face went still and cold. "Did he tell you to come here and take Harry away from us?"
"No, no! I swear, he didn’t tell me to do anything!"
"Then how did the subject of the Will come up? It’s not something one just inserts into a conversation, after all."
"We were having tea when your owl arrived."
"Owl? We didn’t send an owl."
"It had an envelope with a letter and some photographs. Harry with a snake. You and Harry in a graveyard …"
"I sent that Express Mail, not with an owl," said Morticia. "Dumbledore might have arranged for it to be re-delivered while you were there."
"Perhaps. He seemed rather distressed when he received it. When I asked him what was wrong, he showed me the pictures. He told me how you’d taken Harry from the Dursleys. He told me you were Dark — that you’d turn Harry Dark."
"Is there necessarily anything wrong with being Dark, Mr Lupin? Are you under the impression that Dark is the same thing as Evil?"
Remus couldn’t answer that at first, but his captors were patient and let him think it through. Every bit of his childhood training screamed that yes, Dark was Evil. The wars against Voldemort and Grindelwald were proof of that. And yet … and yet, there was the Darkness he himself was cursed with. The wolf inside him was Dark, but not Evil. He wasn’t an evil person although he carried it inside him.
"No. It isn’t."
"Very good. Is Light necessarily Good?"
That one was easier to answer. James Potter was from one of the foremost Light families, and yet he had done things — they all had — that they knew were not Good, both in school and later, during the war. Even Dumbledore, the premier Light wizard of his age, had violated the spirit and the letter of the law to place Harry with a family against his parents’ wishes — and, Remus was coming to realize, had manipulated him into coming here to try to kidnap Harry and bring him back to England.
"No."
"If you had to choose between Dumbledore’s orders and Harry’s well being, which would you choose?"
The answer was immediate. "Harry. It would have to be Harry."
Gomez smiled, showing a disturbing number of pointed teeth. "Then I have a proposition for you, Mr Lupin. Stay here as our guest for two weeks — a month — as long as you’d like. Get to know the boy. Get to know us. Then go back and tell Dumbledore what you’ve seen. And tell him Harry Potter will return to England on our terms or not at all. In exchange, while you’re here, you’ll tutor all three children in wanded magic. Yes, they’re all magical, and no, none of us can teach them what they need to know."
"You’re willing to trust me?"
"I don’t trust you, Mr Lupin, because you haven’t earned my trust yet. But I’m willing to give you a chance, and what you make of it is up to you. We have your wand. I don’t think you’d be willing to leave without that. I also don’t think you’d be foolish enough to kidnap Harry. Because if you did, that would make enemies of us. There wouldn’t be a place in the world we couldn’t follow you to, Mr Lupin, and when we did … well, we do have a very convenient graveyard." The threat was clear, and Remus believed every bit of it.
Gomez reached down and unlocked the cuffs on Remus’s ankles, and Morticia and Fester did the same for his wrists. He sat up slowly, working the stiffness out of his joints. "Your shoes and the rest of your clothes are under the rack," said Gomez. "Dinner is in fifteen minutes. Thing will show you the way." Almost as if Remus really was a friend and a guest, he nodded affably and turned to escort his wife out of the room, and their children followed. Thing jumped off Wednesday’s shoulder and onto the chair again, clearly prepared to wait as long as it took for Remus to get dressed.
Fester and Harry remained, as well.
The big man looked down impassively at Remus. "I don’t trust you either. Gomez says to give you a chance, so you’ll have your chance. But I’m warning you — if you do anything to hurt any of the kids, there won’t be pieces of you large enough to bury." He stalked out of the room, leaving Remus alone with the boy. Harry was still standing against the wall, silent and impassive as he’d been the whole time.
"Harry. This isn’t how I’d pictured meeting you. Nothing’s gone the way I expected it to. Can we start again?" Remus held out his hand. "I’m Remus Lupin. I was a friend of your parents. It’s nice to meet you."
Harry stepped forward and took Remus’s hand. For a moment, he was as carefully controlled as Fester had been. "I’m Harry Potter. It’s nice to meet you, too. If you try to hurt Wednesday again, I’ll kill you myself." Remus found himself believing it. Then the boy’s mood shifted mercurially, and he was a normal child. He sat down on the rack, for all the world as if it were a park bench, swinging his feet while the older man dressed.
"Can you tell me all about my parents?"