Just Around the Riverbend

Oooh, such interesting guesses. You know what? I'm going to do the responses at the END of the chapter this time, because I have something to say that is best read after the chapter has been read.

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Greyback Escapes Azkaban!

“Noo…” Daisy moaned, and fell to her knees. “Tell me he’s not that stupid….Please, God tell me he’s not that stupid…” she sobbed.

“Daisy…” Tom said softly. “Phelan would do nothing without reason. He is positively Slytherin in his craftiness. Something’s wrong…”

She looked up at him with dull cerulean eyes.

“I’m too tired to think of what could possibly make him escape Azkaban. I’m too tired to think of how he escaped Azkaban. The damned prison doesn’t have Dementors who can be fooled by animal forms anymore. The human guards would have known…” she said, and then laid her forehead against the cold stone floor to attempt to stave off the raging headache that was starting.

“Tell me, Daisy: who in their right mind would truly attempt to stop a fully-transformed werewolf from going exactly where he wanted to go? Or, perhaps they just don’t care enough about Phelan’s location. I will give an educated assumption that he’s in the Lycan cell block, and I would bet my wand arm that they don’t give a flying fuck about any of the prisoners there. They probably rarely make appearances. All he would have to do is get out of his cell and be very quiet.” Tom said speculatively.

“Good to know that there are people who might know how he pulled this off.”

Tom whirled around, Lucy in full hiss, to see Kingsley Shacklebolt standing behind him, his arms crossed.

“Minister.” Tom said respectfully. An Auror stepped out from behind Kingsley, attempting to look intimidating. Tom merely raised a dark eyebrow. Lucy flicked her tongue at the two of them.

They taste suspicious, Master.

Tom looked down at his little serpent. She slithered from his pocket to rest around his neck, trying to appear intimidating to the strangers.

They merely want to ask questions about the werewolf. Do not fret yourself, little friend. Tom replied. The Auror sputtered comically.

“P-Parselmouth!” he said finally. Tom rolled his eyes.

“Daisy, do get up off of the floor, I believe the Minister has some questions for you.” He said. Daisy stood slowly, and dusted off her skirt when she was standing.

Kingsley felt bad for her. She looked terrible. Her hair was greasy and unwashed, the thick strands clumping unpleasantly and hanging in stringy handfuls. Her eyes had dark bruise-like smudges underneath hem, revealing that she hadn’t slept well, or at all, the past three days. This was not the look of someone who held out hope that their husband would escape from prison. This was a grieving wife.

“No. I can see that you had nothing to do with this. But I will ask: do you know where he might go?” he asked. Daisy appeared to think for a few moments.

“His only true home has been Hogwarts, and the little garden house on the edge of my cousin’s land. But he’s not stupid, Minister. He won’t go there. He might come here, and hide in the forest. I don’t know…” she said tiredly, and reached up to rub at her eyes.

“If you see him, do be sure to alert us. I can only help him if we can find him.” Kingsley said. Daisy nodded, and the Minister turned to walk away. The Auror glared at both of them for a few moments, before quickly turning and catching up to Kingsley.

Tom turned to say something to Daisy but his words were caught in his throat at the sight of her. She’d closed her eyes, and was swaying dangerously on her feet. She pitched forward suddenly, and he shot forward to catch her. Lucy slithered to wrap around his forehead, out of his way, and he gently lowered her to the ground. She was out cold, her exhaustion finally catching up with her.

Tom carefully regrouped, and shifted his arms under her legs. He lifted her up, and carried her to the sofa. He cast a few discreet cleaning charms on her, and then pulled the fluffy throw off of the back of the sofa and tucked her under it.

Will she be all right, Master?

Tom lifted his hand to allow Lucy to slither off of his head, and she wrapped around his wrist.

I don’t know, friend. I just don’t know…

~~

“This is ridiculous, Lucius. I don’t want to stay in bed all day.” Hermione huffed, crossing her arms over her belly.

“The Healer said you should rest, dearling, and I for one agree.” He said pleasantly.

“I want to help Phelan with you…” she pouted. His pleasant look turned sour immediately, his fine brows crinkling.

“I still don’t know why the little fool would escape. I swear…if I get my hands on the mongrel….a muzzle will be the least of his problems.” Lucius growled.


“Something isn’t right with that equation, Lucius. Phelan has so much more honor than his father. He wouldn’t just run away. We have to figure out why he left, and where he’s going.” She said, her eyes sparkling a bit at the thought of a good challenge.

“Hermione…if you insist on doing something…” Lucius finally conceded. The look on Hermione’s face let him know that she did want to do something. “I have a copy of the Ministry Restriction of Werewolves, and I want you to try and find a loophole.” He said, and produced a thick stack of papers. She groaned. “You wanted to be useful, love. I’m merely doing as you asked.” He said innocently. She narrowed her eyes at him, and he saw her eyes dart for something to throw. He quickly beat a retreat from the room before she found something.

She huffed, and then turned to the first page of the stack.

Be it therefore enacted, by the right honourable the Minister of Magic, by the advice and consent of the full Wizengamot, and the Lords of the Houses of Pure Blood, and by the authority of the same, that from and after the end of this present session that any man or woman of the half-breed status of werewolf, of magic or Muggle origin, shall not be permitted to…

Oh Merlin….this was going to be a long day…

~~

They hit land in a matter of a few hours. Phelan’s large, broad paws treaded the water easily. The main thing had been getting out of the cell. He had memorized the way from the entrance to the cell he occupied, and had traced it back. According to his friend, the guards only appeared every few days with food and water, and today had been their day to appear, coinciding with Phelan’s arrival.

He had used his transformed state to literally break open the cell door. Without Dementors, no one had been alerted. So confident were they of the security of their prisoners, they hadn’t even set up alarms. Dunces.

Phelan’s first course of action was to find shelter. This came in the form of an abandoned fishing shanty. Fortuitously, it was nearly hidden by the line of trees near the water. Phelan carried his shivering partner into the building, disgusted with the effortless weight of him. The sun was already starting to peek above the horizon as he rummaged through the items left behind.

First and foremost he found a worn satchel. It was patched and faded by the years, but it appeared it would hold up quite nicely. Inside was some rotten rope (useless) some old fishing hooks (slightly more than useless) and a fishing knife. It was a bit discolored, but apparently it was made of stainless steel, and thereby free of rust.

He set the satchel by the door, and turned to his passenger, who was reclining on an old fishing net. He looked like something straight out of those photos he’d seen of the holocaust victims. He looked like a corpse.

“How are you feeling?” Phelan asked. He was rewarded with a glimpse of those sad amber eyes.

“Cold and wet. Slightly better than last night.” He attempted a joke. Phelan blinked. There was a small metal stove in the corner, but he didn’t want to risk the smoke from lighting it.

“We’ll rest a few hours, and then we’ll travel on. We need food and provisions. You need water and clothes.” Phelan said, before he flopped down on the fishing net beside him.

“Why are you doing this?”

Phelan sighed softly. Then he shrugged.

“Just bored, I guess…”

~~

Phelan carried him through the heavy woods, making idle conversation as he went. This was mostly to keep his own mind off of what would happen to them both if they were found. He needed to go straight to Minister Shacklebolt, but he couldn’t get near him without being intercepted by Aurors first. If he were intercepted, they’d both be toted back off to Azkaban faster than he could say ‘fuck.’

He needed someone who had been in the Order. But he also needed someone with a bit of influence.

He stopped just outside the limits of a small town, and gently put down his bony cargo. The man leaned against a tree gingerly, his back still stinging something fierce.

“All right, mate. You stay here, and I’ll go scrounge us up some food and supplies.” Phelan said.

He slipped soundlessly into the town, and picked a few pockets before walking into the convenience store in the middle of the town.

The shopkeeper said something to him in what sounded like German, and Phelan looked absolutely confused.

“I speak English…” he said. The shopkeeper merely smiled.

“An Englishman, then? Don’t get many of you around here.” He grinned. Phelan kept himself from slouching in relief.

“I’m on a personal journey. I’m hitch-hiking across Europe. I just stopped for supplies.” He said.
If the shopkeeper was surprised at Phelan’s lie, he didn’t show it. Phelan picked up several things from the shop, which luckily sold souvenirs as well. He got two blankets, a box of matches, two plastic cups, two plastic bowls, two pocket knives, a set of forks, two metal water bottles, and a few souvenir shirts and sweatpants. It was cool off the coast of the North Sea, and luckily those shirts were long sleeved.

He also bought a pair of scissors, a spool of twine, a first-aid kit, two bars of soap, toothbrushes and toothpaste, and two shaving kits.

“You’re buying several items for someone traveling alone.” The shopkeeper said. Phelan merely grinned at him.

“I’m meeting up with a friend in Belgium. I’m just getting extra supplies in case he forgets some. He’s a good bloke, but a bit loopy, you know?” Phelan was surprised how easily the lies came. He used to have to do this all the time when he was younger, and hadn’t had to lie on the spot since he’d gone to Malfoy Manor.

The shopkeeper seemed to accept this line. “I know many like that. Good fellows, but absent-minded. Good luck with your trip.”

“Hey, is there a grocery mart around here? I need some food as well.” Phelan said.

“Oh, you’ll want to visit Hans’ place. He’s right across the street, here. His English isn’t so good, but he’ll treat you well.” The shopkeeper said. Phelan paid for the supplies, and packed what he could into the satchel he’d brought with him.

His trip across the street was as quick as possible. He only bought things that wouldn’t go bad, which included a few cans of clear broth for his friend, who he was sure would not be able to hold solid food in his condition. He’d be able to catch some wild game in the wolf form, so he bought a couple kitchen knives and a pot to cook in. He also bought a can opener, because he wasn’t as stupid as most wizards.

The next stop was a small clothing shop, where he bought some underwear and socks, and even one set of boots that looked like they’d fit his friend. He himself was still wearing the clothes he’d worn to the Celebration, because they’d been unable to put him in Azkaban garb because he was transformed at the time.

He picked up two rain jackets, frowning to himself at how he imagined the jacket would engulf the starving werewolf. As he headed for the register, he grabbed two sets of gloves as well. Fuck, they were going to be hiking back to England. Might as well be prepared.

He was almost to the end of his pilfered funds, and so he decided to call it a day. As he left, the wallet of an unsuspecting man was temptingly poking from his pocket, and Phelan stole it without qualm. They’d need money the next time they stopped. The little plastic cards he left alone, because they could be traced. He stole the wad of bills in the wallet and then discarded the evidence.

His friend was where he had left him, and was dozing against the tree.

“Sleeping on the job?” Phelan asked, but felt guilty when the man jumped, and winced as his back scraped the tree. “Sorry…” Phelan said softly, and put down the heavy bags. “Go ahead and strip off that robe. I’ve got some medicine for your back and a new set of clothes for you. They’re utterly Muggle, but they’ll keep you warm.” Phelan said, and pulled out one of the first-aid kits. “And just in case you’re shy about getting starkers around me, I picked you up some boxers. I think they’ll be too small, but the waistband has a drawstring, so it should be fine.” Phelan said.

He didn’t realize the man had moved until he felt the cool, bony hands touch his face. He looked up into the amber eyes, now glimmering with tears.

“You didn’t have to get any of that. Thank you.”

Phelan cleared his throat uncomfortably.

“Yes, well….er…you’re welcome. Actually, let’s see if we can find a river nearby. I bought soap.” He said, his stomach churning painfully at the way those dull eyes lit up. For fucking soap…

That night, they sat around the campfire that Phelan had started up, eating their respective meals in silence. Phelan had scented out a river for them and after ascertaining that they were going in the right direction, they set up a small camp. Phelan helped his companion cut and wash his white hair, and turned away respectfully as he bathed and then as he put on some clean clothes.

Phelan wanted to save their canned rations for emergencies, so he took a stroll in the forest in wolf form, and came back with two squirrels, an unfortunate rabbit, and a couple wild tubers he’d dug up. They’d already gone through the few cans of broth he’d bought.

His company watched as Phelan deftly skinned the critters, and de-boned the meat. He was making a simple stew, and hoped it wouldn’t irritate his friend’s stomach. So far he seemed to be taking his meal well, and was relishing the sweet meat of the squirrel.

“Is it all right?” Phelan asked conversationally. He was rewarded with a tired smile.

“Pup, I’ve eaten raw rats from the prison cell. This is wonderful.” he said. It was true. He hadn’t been this pleasantly full in…well…three years. Phelan smirked without mirth.

“Once you’ve had rat, everything else is pretty much gourmet.” He said, and finished off his bowl of stew. “I saw a bird’s nest in a tree nearby. When the sun comes up I’ll see if the eggs are edible, and we’ll see about some scrambled eggs.” Phelan added, before retrieving the blankets from where he’d laid them. He spread one over the leaves on the ground. “Come on, mate. You get the covers tonight.” He said, motioning his friend over.

“Why should I get two blankets? Don’t you need to sleep?”

Phelan merely smiled. “I have a fur coat, remember?”

“There is that…” was the chuckled reply. He was curled up under the soft blankets a few minutes later. Between the softness of his new clothes and the warmth of the blankets, he found himself quite drowsy. “You know….” He started, before a yawn broke out. “You never told me your name.”

Phelan tilted his head. Crikey! He hadn’t…!

“Phelan. My name is Phelan Greyback.” He said. He was rewarded with a tired smile.

“I’m Remus Lupin.”

Phelan gave a sad little smile.

“I know.”

~~

Hermione rubbed at her eyes sleepily, and put aside the thick sheaf of papers. Her eyes were tired and scratchy, and she was ready to pull her hair out from frustration. The Restriction was not only worded awkwardly, but the handwriting was atrocious, there were strange letters inserted into random words, and she really wanted a cheeseburger.

She pushed back the blankets, and stood from the bed. She stretched her arms above her head, and grunted at the stiffness in her back.

She waddled down to the library, where she knew Lucius was also researching archaic laws. Bless him, but he was trying so hard to help Phelan. Too bad the boy hadn’t enough sense to keep in one place. But that still niggled at the back of her mind. Phelan usually followed rules fairly well, unless he felt they were ridiculous. She knew that he hadn’t wanted, to go to Azkaban…but who did?

Lucius was sitting at his desk, his head leaning on his hand, and was actually fast asleep sitting up. His reading glasses were perched precariously on the tip of his nose, and he looked quite utterly adorable in that moment. Hermione approached him carefully, not wanting to spook him.

“Lucius?” she called softly. He sniffled. “Lucius.” She called a bit louder. His head slumped forward, and he jerked himself awake.

“Sub-article!” he said, and then shook his head slightly. He looked up, and Hermione noticed the red spot on his cheek where he’d rested it on his hand. “What are you doing down here, Hermione?” he asked, before he shuffled the papers in front of him.

“I needed a change of scenery, love. I wanted to see how you were doing.” She said, and idly reached out to smooth her hands over his soft blonde hair. He intercepted her hand, and brought it to his mouth. He kissed the top of her hand gingerly, and she smiled in return.

“I can’t find anything useful. I did find out that I can indenture a werewolf into servitude if he owes me money.” He said. Hermione scoffed.

“That’s terrible!” she said. He merely made a noise of assent. There was silence between them for a few moments.

“Daisy’s coming over. The Headmaster Flooed me earlier. She’s not taking Phelan’s absence well at all. She hasn’t been sleeping, and actually passed out in class this morning. He’s sending her home for the rest of the week to try and get some rest.” He looked up at the clock. “She’ll be here within the hour.”

Hermione reclined in one of the chairs near the fireplace, watching the low fire crackle at the wood. It was nearly a half an hour before Daisy finally arrived through the floo. Hermione almost didn’t recognize her at first. She’d lost weight, and her hair looked more like a rat’s nest. She looked as if someone had punched her in both eyes, and her white school shirt was buttoned crookedly.

“Merlin bless me! Daisy, you look terrible!” Hermione exclaimed. Lucius looked up, and actually whipped his glasses from his face.

“Sweet Hecate.” He murmured.

It was two days before Daisy even resembled a human again, and another three before she would talk to anyone. There was no sign of Phelan anywhere, and it was beginning to wear on Daisy. Hermione finally tried to enlist her in reading over the Restriction with her. Daisy gave her assent wordlessly, and held the paper in front of her for a few minutes before Hermione actually saw her eyes moving slowly.

They stayed like this for nearly two hours, before Hermione was jerked out of her reverie by Daisy gasping.

“What?” she said. Daisy looked up, a spark of something inexplicable in her eyes.

“I think I found something.” She said. Hermione hurried to her side. “‘All the werewolves already Bitten, and hereafter to be Bitten of any werewolf within this Country shall be subject to these laws as their Sires were for the term of their natural lives.’” She read. But Hermione’s heart sank.

“That doesn’t help anyone, Daisy.” She said. Daisy shook her head.

“You don’t understand! Phelan wasn’t Bitten!” she said, a bit of color coming to her face.

“What are you talking about, Daisy? Phelan’s a werewolf.” Hermione argued.

“Of course he is! But Phelan wasn’t Bitten! He was Born a werewolf! These laws don’t apply to him! It’s a technicality, yeah, but it should be enough as long as Harry doesn’t get Lycanthropy.” she said. Hermione looked at her for a moment, before it clicked in her head. She grabbed the papers from Daisy’s hand, and glared at the sentence. There it was, right in front of them. She stood from the sofa of Daisy’s sitting room, and waddled as quickly as she could to the Library. Daisy watched her go, and collapsed bonelessly against the sofa.

God, she hoped that helped…

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angeles

Voracious Reader - who said he was ever dead? They never found a body, 'member? Fenrir actually commented on wanting to find Remus' body and urinate on it, but they never found it. I've been planning this one, my squishy little friend. ^_^

Dawn - Along the same lines as the review above. Who would look for a dead man? This is what happens when people assume. The Order assumed the Death Eaters stole the body, the DE assumed the body was taken early by the Order. Poor Moony never stood a chance at being looked for.

Alina

HarryGinny4Eva - hmm...I know. I feel so bad about it...but I think I'm a Sadist...-_- Oh noes...

Anathema - top five? I'm moving up in the world!

hairsprayX12
Jennifer
margaritama


Oh, and I will go ahead and apologize to all the Remus fans. Just hold on to your knickers. This loop-the-loop will come out right-side-up by the end, I give you my Marauder's honor! *holds crossed fingers behind back*

Review. NOW, DAMN IT!!