The Marauders - Order of the Phoenix Part Three

CXV: Before -- But Not Long Before

When he fell asleep that night, Remus had dreams of the days long past, the days before Azkaban, before Halloween 1981, before -- but not long before...

"I am afraid, Mister Lupin, that I must call in a favor or two," Albus Dumbledore had said, smiling grimly and leaning against the counter in the kitchen in the flat in East London. If anyone had ever looked out of place in that flat, it was Albus Dumbledore. Somehow the dark magenta robes and long grey beard simply did not make sense there, standing in front of the sink board that was piled with the dishes Remus and Sirius used everyday, the black curtains Sirius had magicked into the windows for privacy and safety as a backdrop. He seemed too big - not in a physical way, like his body fit just fine but his persona, his existence, his power - it was all the flat could do to contain him.

Remus had sat at the kitchen table, staring at the wood grain dully, his eyes unfocused, palms against his leg, which was crossed over the other, ankle balanced against knee, a glass of Gillywater on the table before him, another across the table, before where Dumbledore stood, both glasses untouched.

The proposition hung between them, heavy as iron.

Remus drew a deep breath. "For how long?" he asked.

Dumbledore smiled benignly, "I would be a liar if I said that I knew for certain, Remus," he said.

Remus stared at the table top. "I mean, are we talking -- are we talking days? Weeks?"

"Months. Possibly even a year... maybe two at the most..."

"Years?" Remus looked up at this.

Dumbledore hesitated, then, carefully choosing his words, "Remus, I would ask someone else, but you are the only person that I absolutely trust to be able to do what I am asking of you. You understand, don't you? You have demonstrated to me that you are trust worthy... all these years at Hogwarts, you've never once let me down when I have needed you..." he paused and added, "Nor, I hope, have I let you down."

Remus's eyes met Dumbledore's. 

"Might I remind you, Remus," Dumbledore said gently, "That no other headmaster would have taken the chance... to have a werewolf on the grounds of Hogwarts."

Remus felt cold in every nerve in his body. "No sir, you - you needn't remind me of that."

Dumbledore smiled, "I knew, of course, that I could trust you to follow my instructions, to do what I requested of you to do, to keep yourself - and your friends - safe."

Remus's eyes reverted to the table top.

"I am asking you once again, Remus, to trust me and follow my instructions," Dumbledore said, "For the sake of the safety of your friends - and not for them only, but also for the entire wizarding world."

"But what about Sirius?" Remus asked. He had other concerns, too, of course - like what about the Potters? what about the work Remus had been doing, all those art commissions and the small name he'd built up for himself? what about the classes he loved so much and the muggle friends he'd made? - but Sirius Black was, as always, his first priority. 

"I am afraid that even Sirius cannot know every detail of the work that you would be doing, Mr. Lupin, it would only endanger him further than he is already endangered, being so close to James and Lily Potter, so close to Harry Potter..." Dumbledore's words trailed away.

And then there he was - there was Remus Lupin - staring into the face of Fenrir Greyback, standing so close together that their chests nearly touched. The smell of that place... Blood and dirt with an undertone of canine - but not that comfortable, happy and warm version of it, not"dog", which Remus associated with Sirius, but rather this was a dank, putrid, urine-soaked scent that turned his stomach. Werewolves.