Just Around the Riverbend

Okay, kids. This one is a long one. Twelve pages! ^o^

I would have had it up earlier, but I had alot of bad news this week. The thirteenth was the three year anniversary of my dad passing away, and then I got news that night that one of my teachers from high school, who was as much a friend and second mother as a teacher, had also passed away. I am still quite devastated.

Anyway...

Dawn
forsaken_dream
angeles
HarryGinny4Eva
malfoylover
Josie
Jennifer
April
hairsprayX12
Nicoolio27 - In my head (which has never been quite right...) I have always pronounced his name 'Fay-len.' I'm honored you're choosing a name based on one of my little charries. *squee*
angelnomiko
Labibliographe (x3)
Serin Blackmoon

*Looks back at previous end of chapter Author's note* *then proceeds to spew milk from nose* OH MY WIZARD GOD!!! That is so not what I meant when I said 'kinky werewolf sex.' I didn't mean he'd take the wolf form and bend Daisy over the nearest sofa! Giminy Christmas, guys! *dabs at nose with Kleenex* I meant...like...I don't know...going all Alpha and spanking her, or making her wear a collar, or something regularly kinky with a werewolf twist. My, my...and he certainly wouldn't do it now. He'll at least wait till she's fifteen to pull out the collar and the leather strap. Gracious.

Anyway. We're starting to wrap up here, folks. So very close to the end I can almost taste it. it tastes like....Cool Mint. Oh wait. That's my Listerine.

*Must Sleep*

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


“So what exactly is that thing?” Harry asked.

He sat on a chair in the sitting room of Grimmauld Place, holding a mug of cocoa (with a little something extra mixed in) in one hand.

Severus Snape sat on the sofa, with Bella sitting beside him. They were angled in towards each other, and Snape was studying the lightning bolt mark on her hand.

“I should think it’s obvious what it is.” Severus said. Fawkes suddenly hopped up onto the coffee table in front of them, and tilted his head this way and that as he watched Severus examine the mark.

“What is it, then?” Bella asked, almost afraid to hear the answer.

“It’s a Dark Mark.” They all looked to where Sirius sat calmly in the corner, at present trying to teach himself needle point. It wasn’t working out very well.

Bella squeaked. “Like…Like a Death Eater?” she whispered. Snape regarded her with cool, dark eyes. They’d called him to Grimmauld Place to ask his opinion on what the Mark on her hand was, and why it reacted the way it did in the Infirmary. Truth be told he’d been pondering the situation since he was released. He’d never seen a mark quite like that. He’d heard of the Dark Lord marking other followers, in more covert places, but he’d never actually seen it. But it didn’t have the same pull as one Skull Mark to another.

If he stood near Lucius or Draco, he could feel the pull of the Skull to the other Marks. They were brothers in Darkness, and he could feel it.

“No. He marked you as His. Take it as you please.” Snape said, and released Bella’s hand.

“But that doesn’t explain what happened that day in the Infirmary.” Harry said. Severus looked at him, regarding the young man. He still looked weak. His eyes were smudged with dark bruises underneath from lack of sleep, and his skin looked pale and clammy.

“The Mark, whether it be the Skull Mark or some other form, like this lightning bolt, is brimming with the Magic of the one who created it. When it was red, it was dormant and awaiting its awakening. When Miss Myristica touched you, your body reacted to the magic in the Mark, and drew it back into you. It also awakened the Mark, leaving your connection as Master and Servant open and active.” Snape said.

“I don’t want to be someone’s Master!” Harry sputtered angrily.

“Do not shoot the messenger, Potter. I only gave an educated prognosis. I could be completely wrong, but as that does not happen very often, I am confident in my guess.”

Harry looked at him in shock. It couldn’t be true. He couldn’t be someone’s Master. Like Voldemort was to Snape…like Voldemort was to any of his followers…

“I’m sorry.” Bella said softly. Harry looked at her. She was trembling violently where she sat, and was looking firmly at her hands, which were clamped in her lap.

“It’s not your fault. I should have fought harder. I should have…I dunno…Killed myself or something…” Harry said forlornly. Sirius looked up from his needle point.

“Don’t you dare let me hear you say something like that again, Harry James Potter. This is a strange situation, yes, but it is not your fault. We’ll work this out in the end.” Sirius said.

“Ah yes. The wise Sirius Black giving out advice for the ages.” Severus sneered. Sirius turned his iridescent gaze on Severus.

“I never claimed to be wise. I’m just a concerned Godfather. I just want Harry not to take all of this on himself. It’s not his fault. He had no chance against Voldemort. He is strong, and strong-willed, but Voldemort took his control slowly and surely.” Sirius replied calmly, before looking back down to poke the needle through again.

“I didn’t realize he was there until a few days before he took control completely. I’d been feeling uncharacteristically strong. I felt…powerful, and confident, and I liked it. But I had the strangest urge to…hurt people. It wasn’t until I actually used the word ‘Mudblood’ in my mind that I started to grasp what was really happening. But I didn’t know where to go. I didn’t know who to turn to. Who could I tell? What would I say? ‘Er…excuse me, sir, but I think Voldemort might be taking over my body. Do you think you could call St. Mungos and have them open me up a cell, please?’” Harry snarled.

“Well, it’s refreshing to see you are your normal, petulant self.” Snape said, and rose from the sofa.

“Good day, Severus.” Sirius said. Fawkes cawed his farewell, and hopped onto the sofa with Harry. Harry turned away from him, looking petulant and shameful, and was rewarded with a sharp peck from the fiery bird.

“Ow, Fawkes!” Harry said. He tried to shoo the phoenix away, and was rewarded with another peck. He stood, and moved away from the sofa. Fawkes took flight, and began to chase the guilt-ridden young man through the house, pecking and squawking at him. Sirius sat, almost oblivious, merely pushing the needle through the material.

Bella sat in her chair, watching with a terrified expression on her face.

“Sirius! Tell Fawkes to stop!” Harry cried, and dove behind Sirius’ chair. Sirius didn’t look up.

“I think he’s trying to tell you to get over it, Harry. It’s Fawkes’ way of saying you’re being incredibly selfish. Whether you like it or not you’ve another life to think about other than your own, and you need to tighten your belt and take responsibility.” Sirius said. He tied a knot on the string, and held up his work. “There!” he said.

Severus, who had stopped to watch Harry’s attack with amusement, looked at the piece of cloth Sirius had been embroidering. There was a giant blob of different shades of red, and a few bright yellows.

“It looks like you crushed a pixie on cloth.” He commented. Sirius frowned, and looked at the picture. Fawkes had landed on his shoulder, and was looking at the picture this way and that.

“Hmm….it’s supposed to be a picture of Fawkes.” He was rewarded with a sharp peck to the scalp.

“Ow! You bloody pigeon!”

~~

Kingsley strode with purpose into courtroom, his deep blue Minister’s robes billowing out behind him.

“All rise for the Minister of Magic.”

The entire courtroom rose to its feet, and Kingsley took a set of steps behind the witness’ booth to reach the Minister’s podium. He sat on the high seat, looking down at the young man before him.

Phelan Greyback had willingly given himself back into custody on Kingsley’s promise that he was held in a Ministry holding cell until he was tried. This was no problem for Kingsley, since this trial was mostly for show anyway. He was about to turn the DMLE on its ear, and if he was right he was going to have to have a severe purging of the Auror department.

“Would the accused rise?” Kingsley asked. Phelan stood from the seat he was chained to, holding his head up proudly despite the jeers and hisses some of the crowd began to throw his way. Kingsley banged his gavel to restore order. “Phelan Trucis Greyback, you are accused of biting one Harry Potter on the afternoon of March 3, 2001, at approximately twenty-three minutes past twelve o’clock. How do you plead?”

“Guilty as accused.” Phelan said. For he was guilty of biting Harry. It was the circumstances that would clear him or condemn him.

“You also stand accused of escaping Azkaban prison. How do you plead?” Kingsley continued.

“Guilty as accused.” Phelan replied.

“Very well. As you do not contest the charges against you today, you will stand trial for your bite, as in accordance to the Ministry Restriction of Werewolves passed in 1693. You are represented by Mr. Guy Hart. Mr. Hart, would you please step forward?”

Guy Hart was a short, squat man with friendly brown eyes and thinning gray hair. He’d taken up soliciting werewolves because his son had been given a mistrial and Kissed many years ago.

“It is my job today to convince the court that due to extreme circumstances, Mr. Greyback should not be punished for either his bite or his escape from Azkaban Fortress.” He said.

“Representing the prosecution is Howard Johnston. Mr. Johnston, would you please step forward?” Kingsley continued.
Howard Johnston was willowy and mean-looking. He was more often than not going head-to-head with Guy Hart because of his extreme dislike of all lycanthropic people.

“It is my job today to convince the court that Mr. Greyback is a danger to society, and not only should he not be allowed back at Hogwarts among innocent children, but should be sentenced to time in Azkaban for his transgressions.” Mr. Johnston said.

A few people in the crowd behind him agreed whole-heartedly with him. Mr. Hart was called to question Phelan first, and the kindly looking man stepped near Phelan.

“Mr. Greyback, could you please tell us what led up to the events of March 3?” he asked.

Phelan spoke of what the centaurs had told Daisy, and of their attempts to thwart the Dark Lord’s plans. He spoke of desperately seeking the identity of the Dark Lord, and only realizing who it was when Harry’s eyes had turned red.

“What went through your mind when you saw Mr. Potter’s eyes turn red?” Mr. Hart asked.

“All I could think about was losing Daisy.” Phelan said softly.

“And Daisy is connected to you by blood, correct?” Mr. Hart asked.

“Yes sir. We were bound by blood nearly a year ago at the Ministry ball.” He said, holding up his left hand to reveal the silver Bonding ring.

“So she is your wife in everything but name, correct?” Hart asked. Phelan gave an uncharacteristically warm smile, and nodded.

“Yes sir. She is my mate. She is the other half of my soul, and I love her very much.” Phelan said. He turned slightly to the side to where Daisy was sitting in the audience. She gave him a watery smile, and he winked at her. This was the first time he’d seen her since he’d left the Infirmary a month ago, and she looked terrible. But he didn’t let his shock show on his face.

“So you would do anything to protect her, right? Including going wand-to-fang with the Dark Lord himself?” Hart inquired.

“Oh yes. I would have taken down the Dark Skank twelve times over if he tried to harm Daisy. I only regret I couldn’t yank out his jugular with my teeth for making her suffer the Cruciatus twice.” Phelan said, a wolfish gleam coming to his eyes. A few people murmured at his choice of nickname for the Dark Lord.

“So you only attacked to defend Miss Melfy?”

“I attacked to defend my family as well. Lucius and Hermione Malfoy have been more of a family to me than my father ever was. They are my pack.” Phelan said confidently.

Mr. Hart was finished for this round, and so Mr. Johnston stepped forward.

“You are the son of Fenrir Greyback, are you not?” he asked. Phelan sneered a bit.

“Of course not! I’m the illegitimate child of Albus Dumbledore.” He snarled.

“Mr. Greyback.” Kingsley warned.

“I would think it obvious that I am Fenrir Greyback’s son, me being Phelan Greyback and all.” Phelan snerked. Johnston glared at him.

“You are a werewolf.” He said.

“Two for two. Such a clever lad. You must have been a Ravenclaw!”

“Mr. Greyback!” Kingsley said.

“Well. You can assume a transformed Werewolf form any time you wish, correct?”

“Yes.” Phelan sighed. “I also control the wolf underneath the full moon. I keep my mind as if I’d taken Wolfsbane, but I assure you I’ve never touched the stuff.”

“By your own admission you bit Mr. Potter. But you think you should be exempted from punishment. Tell us why.” Johnston said coolly.

“There were extenuating circumstances. He provoked me.”

“All he did was color his eyes red. Anyone with knowledge of glamours can do that. Because he had red eyes you wish to be absolved of nearly tearing the man’s leg off?” Johnston said.

“He. Provoked. Me.” Phelan snarled.

“And then you escaped from Azkaban after being put there until the time of your trial. That does not seem like the actions of a man who thinks himself innocent. Quite the contrary. I bet you knew that you’d be put down like the animal you are-”

“Objection!” Hart snarled. Kingsley banged the gavel.

“Mr. Johnston, please refrain from insulting anyone in this court.” Kingsley said tiredly. Oooh, the sparks were about to fly. Once they started character witnesses it would hit the fan.

“I’m through questioning him.” Johnston said. Phelan was glaring at him with baleful yellow eyes.

Both of the solicitors went through a few more rounds of questions with Phelan. Johnston focused on trying to paint Phelan up as a slavering animal with no control over his own actions. Hart countered with a more emotional side of Phelan. He focused on the hardships he’d gone through growing up. Phelan wondered how Hart knew about these things, as he’d only met with the man briefly this morning before the trial.

“If the councils would begin their character testimonies.” Kingsley said finally. If they kept this up much longer, the entire courtroom would fall asleep. The Wizengamot hadn’t been called in for this trial, since it was just a breach of Ministry Restriction. Had Phelan bitten Harry underneath the full moon, he would have been tried before the Wizengamot as a formality, and then put to death with a lethal cocktail of pure silver and untreated Wolfsbane. The resulting death was terrible to watch.

Mr. Johnston was first to begin calling his witnesses. He called a few Hogwarts students that Phelan hadn’t really gotten along with, and they said that he was dangerous and vicious.

“She puts up a brave front, but I’m fairly certain he beats her.” One student, Harvey Jakes, said. “Poor Daisy. She’s one of us Slytherins, so she’s like family, but he as good as isolates her from the rest of us, which just makes it easier for him to beat her into compliance.”

“You filthy liar!” Phelan snarled, and pulled out of his seat. The chains groaned from the pressure Phelan exerted on them, and Harvey actually looked a bit frightened.

“You see? You see what he is? Nothing but an ill-controlled monster!” Johnston said smugly. Phelan flung himself back in the prisoner’s chair, and crossed his arms across his chest, his chest heaving with furious breaths.

“At least I’m not a pompous buffoon!” Phelan huffed. A few of the people in the audience that had been swayed to Phelan’s side tittered quietly, and Johnston narrowed his eyes at him.

“You’re dismissed, Mr. Jakes. I would now like to call Danny Razorclaw to the stand.”

Phelan’s head snapped as the looming figure appeared from the back. Danny Razorclaw was his father’s most feared lieutenant. He murdered and maimed with the best of them, and what made him so dangerous was that no one had ever been able to pin anything on him. Legally, he was as innocent as a newborn babe. Morally, he made his father sometimes seem like a fluffy gray kitten.

“Mr. Razorclaw. What is your relationship to Mr. Greyback?” he asked. Danny seemed normal enough. He had ruffled brown hair and a neat goatee, and his eyes were a warm, almost laughing brown.

“I’ve known him since he was just a pup. I remember him mewling about as a newly transformed cub, gnawing toothlessly at his father’s paw and clawing at the furniture.” Danny said. Phelan flushed when a few people made soft ‘aww’ sounds.

“Would you say you know him fairly well?” Johnston asked.

“I would.”

“Do you feel Mr. Greyback is a trustworthy person?”

“He’s like his father, really. He’s as vicious as they come. I myself have a nice set of scars across my back from a run-in with him. And he was only eight at the time.” Danny said softly.

“That’s because you tried to feel me up, you sick bastard! If I so recall my father gave you a set on your front to match!” Phelan snarled, the hair on the back of his neck prickling. He’d repressed the memory until that idiot tried to throw him under the Knight Bus because of a few scratches.

Johnston turned a bit red, and looked at Danny in a way that said ‘you didn’t tell me that.’ Danny shrugged.

“That’s what you say, child, but I told you and your overbearing father that I never touched you. You had a penchant for causing trouble for others. You diverted your father’s anger from your own backside because he blistered you good and often. You needed it more, if you ask me.”

“You’re such a prat! You’re just angry that he got a legitimate heir. You wanted to be his protégé, you berk. You surely stuck your arse in the air often enough to suck up!” Phelan snarled. Danny colored. It was well known that his father didn’t choose sides when he was transformed, and had left both males and females with a sore reminder of the full moon. Danny had more often than not been quite willing to sate the Alpha.

“As…amusing as this little spat is, I’m afraid if Mr. Johnston has no more questions for you, Mr. Razorclaw, you may step down.” Kingsley said. Johnston just shook his head, mortified, and Danny stepped down.

“I have no more character witnesses.” Johnston said softly. Mr. Hart stood, and walked to stand beside Phelan.

“I have only one character witness to call. And I do believe he is the reason you escaped Azkaban, is it not, Mr. Greyback?” Hart asked.

“I dunno. It wasn’t Father Christmas, if that’s who you’re implying.” Phelan said testily. Daisy slapped her hand to her forehead, and groaned shakily. Phelan looked over, and saw that her shoulders had slumped, as if she expected he had condemned himself. He looked back at Hart. “Yes sir. It wasn’t for myself that I broke out of that hell hole. When I was thrown into my cell, there was another man there. At first I didn’t recognize him. He was…they’d starved him down to a walking skeleton. As soon as I got there he was whipped like a side of meat and then they used him like a Knockturn Alley whore.” Phelan said, bristling at the memory.

“Please explain that.” Hart said softly. Phelan looked up, his eyes cold and empty.

“They raped him.”

There were murmurs and whispered behind them. Daisy had both hands covering her mouth, and she looked up at her cousin. He was staring straight ahead of him, an emotionless expression on his face. But his left eyebrow was twitching persistently, and Daisy knew this to be his ‘public angry face.’

“But you did recognize him eventually, correct? Was there any doubt who this man was?” Hart asked.

“Objection!” Johnston said, his face pale and sweating. “What relevance has this to the c-case?” he asked. Kingsley looked at him strangely.

“Mr. Hart, please get to the point.” Kingsley said patiently.

“I knew him. He’d come to my father before, seeking to turn the werewolves from Voldemort’s favor. My father refused him entry to our sanctuary, telling him he was a pet to the humans and smelled of Wolfsbane Potion.” Phelan spoke firmly.

Beside Lucius, Hermione drew in a breath in a strangled gasp. “No….Oh God…Oh Merlin….no, no…” she moaned.

“Who was this man, Mr. Greyback?” Hart asked.

“Remus Lupin.”

The result was instantaneous.

“The boy’s a nutter!”

“Lupin’s dead!”

“He’s not dead!” Phelan said, and stood from his chair. “He was put in Azkaban three years ago! His battle-weakened body was stolen from the battlefield! He was beaten, starved, and abused. And for what? Because he is a WEREWOLF!” Phelan howled.

Several Aurors were trying to get out of the courtroom door, and were being physically restrained by hand-picked guards from Kingsley.

“SILENCE!” Kingsley roared. The courtroom quieted down after several moments. The escaping Aurors had been restrained, as well as one of the guards who had been called to testify. Phelan noted with satisfaction that it was the one who dressed like a medieval warden. “This is a heavy accusation to make, Mr. Greyback. Have you proof?” he asked.

“He needs no proof other than my presence.”

Heads craned towards the back of the courtroom, where a man stepped from the shadows of the corner of the courtroom. His face was gaunt and skeletal, and his hair was shocking white. He had a neatly trimmed mustache, and his robes, patched and shabby, seemed to swallow him.

“Remus!”

Hermione was on her feet, great sobs jerking her frame. Gasps and murmurs followed the werewolf as he approached the front of the courtroom.

“And who are you?” Kingsley asked calmly.

“I am Remus John Lupin. I was born March 10, 1960, and I Graduated from Hogwarts in 1977.” Remus said, and stopped to stand beside Phelan’s chair. “On May 2, 1998 I was abducted from the battlefield at Hogwarts. I woke up several weeks later in Azkaban fortress. I was questioned about the whereabouts of one Fenrir Greyback, and when I could not provide the answers I was charged with obstruction of justice. I stayed in Azkaban for three years before I was rescued.”

“And who rescued you, Mr. Lupin?” Hart asked gently.

“Phelan Greyback. He saw what they were doing to me, and it angered him. He broke down the cell door with his wolf form and carried me across the North Sea on his back.” Remus said, and reached out a bony hand to rest on Phelan’s shoulder. “He got a bit turned around in the water, and we landed on German soil. He fed and clothed me, and brought me here to England. Then he turned himself in. He did not escape for himself. He is not his father. I assure you that this is a fine, upstanding young man. If it weren’t for him, they’d be throwing my body into the North Sea right now, and no one would be the wiser.”

The courtroom was quiet. People were staring at Remus in horror, and the sound of Hermione’s ragged sobs was prevalent. Kingsley sat back in his chair, and steepled his fingers.

“An interesting predicament. There are no precedents to escaping Azkaban to save an innocent man. There is only one other instance of even breaking out of Azkaban.” Kingsley interjected.

“If it would please the court, I move that the charges against Mr. Greyback be dropped due to extraordinary and uncommon circumstances.” Hart said, a smile on his face.

“Objection! The circumstances surrounding his escape certainly are uncommon, but he is still guilty of biting Harry Potter.” Johnston tried.

“Who was Possessed by the Dark Lord. And, as stated earlier, Mr. Greyback is protected in the Werewolf clause in the Dark Creature Control contract which states: ‘Any creature who is knowingly provoked may be found innocent of any harm which may befall the provoker.’ This was specifically for instances like this, where someone would provoke a transformed Werewolf.” Hart said confidently.

“Free ‘im!” Came a cry from the back of the courtroom. There was a cacophony of assent, and Kingsley found himself grinning.

“Due to extraordinary and extenuating circumstances, the court hereby finds Phelan Trucis Greyback not guilty of both charges brought against him. Mr. Greyback, you are free.” Kingsley said. He snapped his fingers, and the chains holding Phelan to his chair disappeared. A guard stepped forward to attempt to intercept Daisy when she jumped the banister, but a swift slap in the face made him reel back in shock.

Geez, for such a small girl she sure packed a wallop!

Phelan held his hands out and braced himself for the armful of witch. She threw her arms around his neck and yanked his head down for a searing kiss. Phelan didn’t really register the wolf whistles and catcalls that came from the audience. After several long moments, Daisy finally pulled back.

“Wow. What was that for?” Phelan asked.

“For coming back to me.” Daisy said. Then she slapped him hard across the face.

“Fuck! What was that for!” he cried.

“That was for making me worry you furry fuck-tard!” she snapped. Then she threw her arms around him again and buried her face in his chest, her shoulders heaving with sobs. He forgot his stinging cheek and hugged her, whispering soft words of comfort in her ear.

Remus watched them with a smile on his face.

“Remus!”

He turned to see Hermione standing at the banister, looking very distraught, and very pregnant. He’d been told of her relationship with Lucius. And although he hadn’t agreed at first, he was thoroughly assured by Phelan that Lucius and Hermione were a very good match.

He approached where she stood at the banister.

“Mrs. Malfoy. You look lovely.” He said politely. Hermione reached forward and grabbed the front of his robes, and forcefully pulled him to her. He was a bit shocked at her strength. Or perhaps it was his weakness? Either way he soon found himself being squeezed breathless by a sobbing, pregnant Hermione Malfoy. He shushed her softly, and patted her curly head. “It’s all right now, Hermione. Hush now, dear.” He murmured.

“We didn’t know, Remus. We thought- oh Merlin we assumed the Death Eaters took you to piss us off! We thought they’d desecrated your body! We never in a million years thought-!” she was starting to hyperventilate, and suddenly strong arms pulled her away from Remus. She looked up into her husband’s cool blue eyes. Lucius looked at Remus, and Remus looked at Lucius.

“My condolences on your mistreatment, Mr. Lupin. No one deserves such a sentence.” Lucius said sincerely. Remus gave a thin smile.

“What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger. Or something like that.” He said softly. Lucius gently pushed Hermione into a chair, and sat beside her in an attempt to calm her down. Remus watched the gentle way he held her hand in his, and the soft look on his face as he leaned in and whispered words of comfort to her.

“Mr. Lupin! Mr. Lupin!”

Oh great…the paparazzi. He could hear them yelling questions this way and that. But there was somewhere he needed to be. And he needed to get there before the papers got out the next day. He pushed his way through the courtroom, ignoring the paparazzi and the reporters. A young woman, reminiscent of Rita Skeeter, actually grabbed his arm in an attempt to get an interview. He cringed when she grabbed him, and a few people went silent around him, before they wrote feverishly on their parchment. The young woman let him go, and he continued through the courtroom levels.
Once he reached the end of the courtrooms, which were protected by Anti-Apparition spells (for obvious reasons) he disappeared with a crack!

~~

Harry and Bella were sitting in the den at Grimmauld Place. Sirius was dozing lightly in the corner, soft snores coming from him every so often.

“I’m not sure how to do this.” Harry said softly. Bella swallowed.

“Me neither. I don’t want to be a burden.” She replied.

“You’re not a burden. You’ve been so pleasant to have around, and you are so kind and gentle, and your cakes are to die for!” Harry gushed. Bella turned red, and suddenly found the carpet interesting.

“Well….thank you.” She tittered.

Harry opened his mouth to say something else, and there was a knock on the door. Harry paused, and tilted his head. This place was still Unplottable, and the only people who could find it were the Order. But most people called by Floo if they needed him.

“Wait here.” He said, and left the den. He traveled down the narrow hall to the front door, and pulled his wand. Then, he opened the door. He stared at the person standing there for several moments, before his eyes rolled back in his head and he hit the floor in a dead faint.

“Damn. I’ve really got to stop doing that to people.” Remus said softly. He knelt at Harry’s side, and placed his cool hands on Harry’s cheek. “Come on, Harry. Wake up.” He said, and tapped his face.
“Who are you?”

Remus looked up to see a strange girl staring at him. She had shiny dark hair, and lovely blue eyes. Her face was a mask of worry.

“What did you do to Harry?” she asked, much louder this time. He heard shifting from inside the den, and a figure appeared at the doorway. The two looked at each other for several moments, before Remus choked on a breath.

“Mr. Moony wonders how many Slytherins it takes to screw in a light bulb.” Remus sobbed.

“Mr. Padfoot doesn’t care. Slytherins are too stupid to know what a light bulb is.” Sirius replied easily.

“Oh Merlin. Sirius!” Remus sobbed. Phelan hadn’t told him about this. He probably thought it would be a clever surprise! Sirius approached where Remus was kneeling with Harry, and went to his knees in front of him. He took in the sight of the drawn, bony face, and his snow-white hair.

“Remus. What happened?” Sirius asked. Remus actually hid his face with his hand in shame.

“I was sent to Azkaban.” He said. Sirius reached up and pulled Remus’ hand away.

“Why?” he asked angrily.

“For being a werewolf. They stole my injured body from the battlefield. When they interrogate me, I couldn’t tell them were Greyback and his cronies were, and so they mock charged me and locked me away. They starved me and beat me. I only got out when they made the fortuitous mistake of putting Phelan Greyback in my cell. When he escaped, he did it to break me out.” Remus said. “Now…how are you here, Padfoot?”

“Well…to make a long story short: I didn’t technically die. When that crazy bitch pushed me through the Veil, she put me in Limbo. I wasn’t supposed to die that day. Apparently my fate was to wait until a time when I was needed more.” Sirius said. He’d explain the whole Harry possessed thing later. “When I was needed again, Fawkes transcended the barrier of life and Death and brought me out of the Veil. He basically teleported me out.”

“Why couldn’t he have brought you back sooner?” Remus asked, devastated.

“Though you would all argue otherwise….I was not needed.” Sirius said simply.

“I missed you.” Remus whimpered, and allowed the tears to come.

“And I you, friend, when I found out you were supposed to be gone from this world.”

“R-Remus?”

Remus looked down to see the fearful, and yet so hopeful eyes of Harry Potter looking at him.

“It’s good to see I have such an effect on you, Harry.” Remus teased. Harry sat up, and looked at his former Professor. At his friend.

“What happened to you, Remus?” Harry asked, and reached out to touch the prominent cheek bone.

“Let’s retire to the den, Harry, and I’ll tell you over some sort of libation. I’ve been craving some hot chocolate and rum since I got out of Azkaban.” Remus said. Sirius laughed.

“Come on then, you old lush, and you can tell us the whole story of how you died.”

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Awww....come on now, guys. That was worth a little something something. Right? Yea? Good! There's be less-kinky-than-you-think werewolf sex if you do. (Merlin, LaBibliographe, you've got an active mind. I didn't think of it that way until you brought up your aversion. Silly me.)

Now, you've schoozed my chapter, squeed a little, and then went 'awww' at the thought of Phelan as a toothless werewolf puppy. Now freakin' review.