Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Freedom Bound in Chains	By : TaintedSensibly Category: Harry Potter AU/AR > Slash - Male/Male Views: 58477 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 13
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or Harry Potter characters. I did not make money from this story.

Chapter List
- 99
- 100
- 101
Winter Woods and Gods
Molly was dreaming, gripped by a nightmare…
The sound of a Howler hissing open took her attention from the pots simmering on the stove. “Mr. and Mrs. Weasley. I apologize for contacting you at this hour. You are needed at Hogwarts. It is an emergency.” Molly dropped her spoon with a gasp, adrenaline hitting her system. Arthur got up from the table and quickly went to the floo to contact Xeno. Molly was already moving. She called Ginny and Timmy in from the garden.
Snow-covered, red-cheeked and happy, the children grew quiet and worried as they were hustled to the floo. “Daddy? Where’re we goin?” Ginny asked, looking up at her father.
“You’re going to stay at Mr. Lovegood’s for a little while, sweetie. Mummy and I are going to take care of something at the school. Don’t you worry. We’ll be back before you know it.”
“What they do now?” Ginny asked with a roll of her eyes.
Molly said nothing, holding her youngest, Septimus, closer to her chest. There was something in Professor McGongall’s voice. It set her heart beating hard and fast, sending cold terror curling through her gut.
“We’ll find out soon. Come on now.”
He reached for Septimus and, reluctantly, Molly handed the boy to Arthur and watched him floo the children to their neighbor’s. While he was gone, Molly rushed to the kitchen to stop the cooking. Arthur called her from the living room and she rushed to his side, flooing together to the Headmaster’s office.
The grief on Dumbledore’s face made her go completely cold as he sat them down in front of his desk. Very carefully, Dumbledore told them of the vile offender who had hurt their Ron and the mental distress he was evidencing. But that was not even all.
She sat completely frozen as she listened to him tell her that her boys had been made hostages when the criminal went on the run. They had even witnessed the man’s brutal death. She could hardly understand the words the Headmaster spoke, the only thing coming clear was that her children were all in the Infirmary and needed her…
Molly rushed to her son’s side. She refused to look at the Headmaster. Her children were silent, subdued, and Ron… Oh, her little boy… He looked haunted. His eyes were bruised from lack of sleep. His lips chapped. His face pale. She clutched him close and refused to let go.
They had just gotten the kids settled at home when Arthur asked her, “Where are you going?”
“I need to speak to Draco,” she answered, monotone, a letter clutched in her fist.
She threw the floo powder down and traveled to the Tonkses. Oh god, the cold way that poor boy spoke of the horror that had happened to the First-Year boys in the Tower. The photos he placed in her hands… of the twins and Ron… and then telling her… four years ago… Percy had been abused for a year! That Draco had tried his best to save him! Had saved him. But he hadn’t thought to save anyone else.
What had the boy been thinking?! Playing with such dangerous magic?! He could have killed Percy! Draco should have told someone, anyone!, what was happening! But he was just a boy himself. Someone else deserved her rage more…
She found herself standing in the Headmaster’s office. She demanded the rest of the photos of Ron… and, goddess help her, there were so many!… Looking up from the disgusting photos, she stared at the man who was responsible… and rage exploded from her core…
The walls seemed to bend away from her terrible anger… She flung the Headmaster to the ground. Beat him against the stone floor. Metal shrieked. Books tore. Wood shattered. The phoenix sang and sang, but she couldn’t hear it over the scream of her terrible rage.
“HOW DARE YOU! THEY WERE SUPPOSED TO BE SAFE HERE! HOW LONG HAVE CHILDREN BEEN ABUSED IN THESE WALLS, DUMBLEDORE! HOW LONG WOULD IT HAVE CONTINUED! MY BOYS! OH MY BOYS! LOOK WHAT YOU’VE DONE TO MY BOYS!”
… Molly jerked awake, panting. The memory of that day ran on a loop through her mind - awake or sleeping. She was stuck there.
“Did you sleep at all?”
She sat up to see her husband coming around the bed to sit next to her. The room was dark, the curtains pulled over the windows. The children were quiet and there was nothing left to clean, so Arthur had told her to take a nap while he watched over things. She turned away from him, remembering the argument between them.
“Molly…” He sighed as if burdened with some terrible weight.
“I said no, Arthur.”
Arthur lost his temper. He quickly cast a Silencing Ward around them. “It’s his OWL year, Molly. He’s worked hard and deserves to see the results of that.”
She sat up in a flash, eyes burning. “They are not going back to Hogwarts. That’s final.”
“He will.”
Molly gaped at her husband. “Excuse me?”
“Percy will finish out the school year.” Arthur stood, feet planted and stared his wife down. “I am the Head of this Household, and I have decided that Percy will be returning to Hogwarts when the break is over.”
“Arthur!” she gasped horrified.
He grabbed her by the shoulders, almost shaking her. “I know, Molly! I’m just as furious as you! But he wants to go back! Refusing him that is like clipping his wings. It’s like telling him he’s wounded and then making it so! He feels strong enough. He wants it. He’s going!” Seeing his wife’s tears, he gentled his tone. “We failed him once, Molly, by allowing that animal into our home. I will not fail him a second time. We can discuss what we’ll do for his education after he finishes out the year, but he is going back and getting his OWLs.”
Molly yanked away from her husband. “He can take the tests independently. He doesn’t need to go back to that school!”
“He won’t be as prepared!” Arthur yelled back. “We’ve discussed this. He told us what he wanted! He had good, sound reasons for wanting to go back!”
“He’s a boy! He doesn’t know what’s best!” she argued passionately.
“We can’t let this cripple us or the boys,” Arthur screamed desperately. “We can’t keep him locked in the Burrow!”
“I’m crippling my boys, then, is that it? Looks to me like I’m the only one willing to protect them!” She glared in cold fury at the man who was supposed to be her partner. She threw the blankets off and climbed stiffly from the bed. “Well, I see you’ve made your decision.”
“Molly… please…” Arthur whispered brokenly.
Molly turned her back and refused to speak to him.
…
The siblings were instantly aware of the tension between their parents even though both Molly and Arthur tried to hide it. It was a little obvious when they refused to look at each other let alone speak to each other, so Charlie, Bill, and the twins devised a plan. Bill would keep Ginny and Timmy occupied and also keep a lookout for their parents while the twins and Charlie cornered Percy and Ron. It was clear that the core of the debate centered around those two, and it was also clear that they knew more about what was going on than the rest of them.
Charlie arranged it by bullying his brothers into a hike. It was the one thing Ginny and Tim wouldn’t want to join in on. Bill casually offered to stay behind, saying he didn’t feel like going out. Instead, he coaxed Ginny and Tim into a snowball fight in the yard.
“I really don’t want to go hiking, Charlie,” Ron grumbled. It was after lunch. The sky was cold and cloudy, the sun weak. His breath billowed before him with every breath and, even with his knitted red hat pulled low, his nose and cheeks were cold. He hunched his shoulders into the scarf he wore and glared at the twins. “And since when do you like hiking?”
“We like it sometimes,” they said together, grinning, walking arm-in-arm. And that was true enough. They were unpredictable like that.
Ron cast a glance at Percy. His brother’s eyes were hard to read behind his glasses, but he definitely didn’t look any happier about this than Ron did.
“Fresh air is good for you,” Charlie boasted. He wasn’t much taller than Percy and was much shorter than Bill. A bit stocky, broad of shoulder with a fair bit of muscle, he looked twice as wide as normal wearing several layers of sweaters and a bulky jacket. He didn’t bother with a hat or mittens, but he had a scarf tossed loosely around his neck.
His hair was tied back in a ponytail at the back of his head, turned more orange than red from being in the sun so much. His face was permanently sunburnt across his cheeks and nose, it seemed, and he was so freckled that he almost looked tanned. (Of all the siblings, Charlie had the most freckles, Ron had the second most, then Percy, then Bill, while the twins, Ginny, and Timmy hardly had any at all.)
Ron had always looked up to Charlie a bit more than Bill. Bill was more serious, more like Percy. Charlie was more fun-loving and was more willing to play with them, but Ron really, really, wasn’t in the mood today. “Yeah, sure. Maybe when it’s not freezing your lungs solid,” he grumbled, lagging behind.
He didn’t want to deal with this shite right now. The threat of not going back to Hogwarts loomed over him like an executioner’s axe. Percy made the most compelling argument to go back, it being his Fifth-Year, but Ron and the twins had been shut down hard when they’d argued. And his parents were fighting. It felt like it was all his fault, but he didn’t know what to do about any of it.
Truth was, Ron was conflicted. Hogwarts wasn’t what he’d thought it would be, that was for sure. Classes were interesting and Quidditch was great, but he’d drifted away from Harry and Draco and fought a lot with that annoying Longbottom-Pleasant girl. He made some real good friends in Dean and Seamus, but they were still so new… and everything with the bullying and… Scabbers…
“Okay. We’re here.”
Ron looked up to see they were at their little hang-out down by the small lake by their house. It wasn’t nearly far enough to be considered a “hike” by Charlie’s standards. If Ginny and Tim had known they were heading here, they would have definitely wanted to come. The lake had iced over weeks ago and was solid enough to skate on. This was looking more and more like a set up.
Ron glared at his older brothers suspiciously as the twins settled on their favorite fallen log and Charlie took a seat on a tree stump. With a grin, Charlie cast warming charms on all of them and gestured to Percy and Ron’s places in the make-shift circle.
“Well, sit down.”
“What are we doing here?” Ron demanded, arms crossed and glaring.
“What? You got something better to do?” Charlie’s smile faded and he gave his little brother a firm look. “Sit, Ron. We have to talk.” He cast a look up at Percy. “You, too, Perce.”
“What is this?” Ron demanded again. He refused to sit down.
“We know you don’t trust us,” Fred began, usually solemn.
“We don’t always do right by you,” George agreed with a firm nod.
Together they said, “But we’re brothers and we want to help you.”
“Help me?” Ron was completely surprised.
“Please, Ron. Percy.” Charlie stood and reached out both hands to his younger brothers. They were scarred and blistered from his work, but they looked strong and sturdy. He had blue eyes. Like Ron and Tim. Like their father. “You gotta tell us what’s going on. We’re brothers. Nothing you say here will be used against you. We swear it.”
“You know what happened,” Ron snarled defensively. He took a step back as panic slammed into his system. He’d been trying so hard not to think about it. Tried so bloody hard!
Percy looked at his little brother. Really looked at him. Ron still wasn’t sleeping. Not regularly at any rate. Where before he’d been loud and bold, he’d become so withdrawn. He was always scowling. Guilt sat as heavy as lead in Percy’s gut. For the first time in years, Percy cast Charlie a desperate look. Maybe Charlie was right. Maybe this could help?
Charlie met Percy’s gaze and it was so steady and straight-forward that it gave Percy courage. Ron was only eleven. He couldn’t be asked to do this alone. Decided, he reached for Ron’s hand and held it tight. It felt soft and muffled through their mittens, but he held fast with a solid grip.
Ron stared at him wide-eyed, a look of betrayal on his face… until Percy began to speak. And then he realized that Percy wasn’t going to tattle on him. In fact, he wasn’t going to speak about Ron at all.
“I didn’t know it was Scabbers,” Percy began, voice harsh with pain in spite of how strong he was trying to be. His brothers listened in dead silence, not daring to interrupt. “But someone would h-hurt me… at night… in the T-Tower.” He swallowed hard. He couldn’t look at them, so he dropped his eyes to the ground. His hand gripped Ron’s almost painfully tight. “H-he’d… get on top of me… he’d d-do things to me… It hurt so bad… I-I was so s-scared…”
Charlie got to his feet and came to stand close to Percy’s side. He didn’t know if it was okay to touch him, but he wanted more than anything to protect him. With growing horror, he realized what his brother’s words meant… Percy - serious, responsible Percy - his little brother… had been raped…
“I couldn’t p-prove it,” Percy continued, oblivious now of his brothers around him. He was caught up in a past that still haunted him if he let it. “There were no marks in the morning. W-when I tried to tell the n-nurse something h-hurt me at night, she didn’t understand, told me I must have been dreaming. Gave me Dreamless Sleep. I… I thought I was going crazy… I didn’t know who to tell or how.” Percy was breathing faster now, panic and pain setting in. “I pulled into myself. Withdrew from everybody. I wanted to die…”
Charlie couldn’t take it anymore and grabbed Percy in a tight hug. Ron wrapped his arms around Percy, too, even as Fred and George came up behind him to join in.
Percy relaxed into their hold. His voice steadied. “We met Draco that summer… I don't know how, but he knew something was wrong with me. He… He promised to protect me… He combined his magic with Harry’s somehow and put a protection on me.”
Percy pulled away from the group hug and dropped Ron’s hand. Turning his back, he lifted his sweaters and jacket to show his lower back. Charlie, Fred, George, and Ron stared at the red snake curled up on Percy’s skin.
“Wicked,” the twins said together. They reached out to touch it, but Percy quickly covered the mark and turned back around, cheeks burning red.
“The protection worked. The man never hurt me again.” His hands curled into fists as his eyes met Ron's. He tried to hold it back, but he couldn’t stop his eyes from filling with tears. “I don’t know why I never thought that he could hurt someone else. I am so, so sorry, Ron. I should have been smarter! I should have protected you…”
“It’s not your fault.” The words were spoken with absolute certainty.
Percy stared wide-eyed at his little brother.
“It’s not your fault and it’s not Draco’s,” Ron declared, angry again, scowling fiercely. “You had no way of knowing it was Scabbers! None of us suspected! You did nothing wrong!”
Percy could hardly believe it. Ron was forgiving him! Ron was being the strong one as Percy stood there, tears streaking his face, shaking like a leaf. Percy leaned into Charlie gratefully when his older brother put his arm around him again. He had no idea what to think. He felt emptied out, beaten.
Ron stood there, defiant and angry. He stood with his fists clenched, George on one side and Fred on the other, and faced Percy and Charlie. “I don’t remember anything like that happening to me, you know. I just keep having this nightmare,” he spat hatefully. “It won’t fucking leave me alone!”
“What’s it about?” Fred asked weakly. They were only thirteen. This was all more than they could really take in, but they knew they couldn’t stop now. George reached behind Ron’s back to grip Fred’s forearm in support.
Ron spun to face the wide-eyed twins. Something about seeing their lost expressions when they were the ones to fucking drag him out here and demand answers made him so mad he could hardly think! “You want to know?” he growled, eyes glittering malevolently. “I’m sinking into the Black Lake and the giant squid has me. It’s got me all wrapped up and I can’t fucking breathe. There’s fucking tentacles holding my mouth open so far that my jaw tears off my face! Do you know how bad that HURTS?! I try to get away, to swim to the surface, but I never make it…”
Ron was shaking so hard he almost couldn’t keep his feet. Spitting like a feral cat, he practically snarled in their faces. “Do you know what it feels like to be so desperate for air that your chest caves in and your eyes feels like they’re going to pop out of your head?! I do! And It. Won’t. Fucking. Leave. Me. Alone! What the hell can you do for that? HUH?” he screamed, all the rage and pain and confusion pouring out of him like poison. “Just leave me the fuck alone so maybe I can forget what it feels like to die for one bloody minute!”
Seeing their horror-struck faces staring back at him, Ron broke and ran. He ran until his lungs burned like fire in his chest. Ran until his heart felt like it was going to explode. The feeling of tentacles were wrapped all around his body, and Ron sprinted even faster, trying to escape that deadly, ghostly touch. He lost his hat. He lost a mitten. He ran and fell, tumbling hard to the rough ground, tearing his palm and slamming against a tree. He couldn’t breathe!
True, blind panic set in. He thrashed wildly, scratching at his own throat, his mouth hanging desperately open. Scrabbling to his feet, swaying, vision going dark, Ron ran a few more feet, trying to get away, trying to survive, before unconsciousness snapped cruelly closed over his mind.
…
Charlie, Percy, Fred, and George stood stunned by Ron’s horrific words for a long minute. It was long enough for Ron to disappear into the trees. Charlie snapped out of it and took off after his little brother. Fred and George were on his heels, but Percy wasn’t the athletic type. He stumbled and tripped as he chased after everyone until he lost sight of them all.
Panting, hand against a tree for balance, Percy stared into the shadowed wood. Clouds were gathering thicker, threatening snow. Darkness was falling all around them. How did Ron get so far away? Percy frowned and rubbed his glasses off on his sweater under his jacket. His hands were shaking and he honestly couldn’t say if it was because of the cold or that horrible conversation. He felt sick, knowing how much Ron remembered from that night. Merlin! Tears blurred his eyes again and suddenly he had no strength at all. He put his back to the tree and sank down.
How the hell could he be there for Ron when he was so damn lost himself? The urge to see Draco, to hear his voice, hit him so hard that he almost cried out his name. Fifteen years old and crying for an eleven-year-old to help him… Disgusted with himself, Percy curled up at the base of the tree and cried.
…
Shit! Charlie cursed himself out in his head. This was a stupid plan! He took them out in the woods to talk about deep, horrific shit and didn’t expect them to run away? He should have put up a barrier. Or tagged them with a beacon spell just in case. Shit!
“RON!” he bellowed, hands cupped around his mouth. “RON! WHERE ARE YOU?”
The woods stood silent around him, growing darker by the minute. The temperature was dropping, too. Charlie spun around and saw Fred and George moving some bit away from him. If he listened closely, he could hear them calling for their brother.
“FRED! GEORGE! GET PERCY AND GO BACK TO THE HOUSE! GET DAD AND BILL!”
One of the twins tossed their hand in the air to indicate they had heard and then they were quickly out of sight.
“Shit,” he said again, this time out loud, before striding deeper into the woods. “RON! DAMN IT, ANSWER ME! RON!”
…
Darkness closed in around them quickly, the sun defeated by the darkening clouds. Within the hour, snow began to fall. The Weasley clan - Molly, Bill, Charlie, Arthur, Amos Diggory, Mr. Fawcett, and Xenophilius Lovegood spread out in the sparse wood that bordered the Weasley’s marsh.
They were having no luck with magic. Point Me only told them the direction of North. The vial of blood Molly kept of each of the children hadn’t ben renewed in a while due to Ron being away at school, so it was dry and old. It gave weak results, just a faint tugging in a general direction. Molly pointed the way and the men fanned out along her sides.
The land wasn’t flat, lifting and dropping in hills, so it was hard to see farther than a dozen yards in front of them. The temperature dropped dangerously. The snow came down heavier, faster, until you couldn’t see the person standing five feet away from you, and still the calls, muffled and eerie, continued:
“RON! … Ronald! … Ron!”
…
Ron woke in a daze. He couldn’t feel his body at all. He felt covered with a heavy blanket. He stared dumbly into the darkness, felt the falling snow on his cheek, on his eye lashes. He blinked slowly. He wasn’t afraid. He was calm. Maybe for the first time in weeks… No, his whole life. A deep calm serenity. His thoughts came slow, slower. He thought of Percy, of the annoying twins. Thought of Ginny and Tim. Charlie and Bill. He thought of baseball; Draco and Harry. Just soft acknowledgements. Nothing heavy or hard. Just an ‘I know you’.
He thought of Hogwarts, the towers and classes and his friends. He thought of Quidditch and flying. He thought of his parents… Warm food… Christmas presents… His eyes fluttered closed again, a small smile touching his numb lips… His thoughts slowing into a deadly sleep.
…
“We have to find him!” Molly screamed to Arthur on her right. She couldn’t see him at all, but had to believe he was still there. “RON!” She tripped over a tree root and slid halfway down a hill. The snow was nearly blinding her now. She thrust her arms out and, between the darkness and the blizzard, she couldn’t just barely see her hands. The Lumos spell only made it worse, bouncing off the snow right into her eyes, making her field of vision even shorter, so she trudged onward in the dark.
“RON!” She clutched the small vial of blood and tried to focus. Her breath roared in her ears. The snow muffled everything, even her magic. “RON!” The tiniest tug against her nearly numb fingers, small enough to make her paranoid that it was just her imagination, but she had to follow. Had to.
A black figure. Fingers like bare-tree branches. Mouth a black pit darker than night. She screamed. Yellow eyes glared at her. It flew right into her face.
“LUMOS MAXIMUS!”
The spell exploded above her head, a white sun cutting through every shadow, holding the night at bay. A high, inhuman shriek. She collapsed to her knees, hands slamming over her ears. She was screaming in pain instead of terror now, but she couldn’t even hear it.
Light beaming down onto a small mound in the snow, at the base of a tree. Where the creature had been hovering, its thin, stick-like fingers crawling. Molly lunged forward and felt the ice-cold skin of her child.
“RON! I found him! I found Ron! He’s here! HERE!” she hollered helplessly, pulling him into her arms even as her spell began to fade, the dark and snow crashing back in around her. “WE’RE HERE!”
xXxXxXx
As Ron was found in the dark woods and Draco fell soundly asleep safe on Liam’s couch, Remus was getting out of a cab in front of the Leaky Cauldron. The pub was closed for the night, the fire put out, but Remus could still edge down the alley and get to the entrance to Diagon. From there, Remus practically ran to Knockturn Alley and into a seedy, all-night establishment that had a fire burning.
The man behind the counter charged an exorbitant amount to use the floo, but Remus hardly cared. He practically flung the money at the man and leapt into the green flames, calling the emergency floo password for the Headmaster’s office.
Remus knew it would set off all types of alarms, but he could hardly think. His heart was beating, beating, beating in his chest… Peter and Sirius and Azkaban… He staggered and fell clumsily to his knees, coughing soot from his throat. Dumbledore’s apartment door flung open with a bang. The ancient wizard stood with his snow-white hair and beard loose, falling messily around his face. He was tugging a magenta sleep-robe closer about his body.
“Remus?” he called from the top of the stairs. He was already moving down them with surprising agility for a man his age. “What is it, my boy? An attack?”
Remus pushed up to his feet and met Dumbledore at the bottom of the stairs, grabbing the old man by the arms in desperation. “Is it true? Do you have him?” he practically screamed in Dumbledore’s face. “Peter! Do you have Peter!”
The alarm in the old man’s face drained away to be replaced by exhaustion and sorrow. “Yes. Yes, I have him.”
Remus shook the old Headmaster. “Tell me it isn’t true! Tell me Sirius hasn’t been locked away all these years for NOTHING!” He hardly gave Dumbledore the chance to speak, continuing right on. “Why didn’t you do anything? Why didn’t you help him?! Sirius, it was Sirius we sent away. How could we do it? How could we do it?!”
Dumbledore took a step back, pulling Remus with him and guiding the distraught younger man to sit on the steps with him. Remus was shaking now. He’d lost all strength and sat heavily, tears falling freely down his grief-stricken face. His hands fell away from Dumbledore’s shoulders, uselessly hanging by his sides. Dumbledore reached forward and wrapped an arm around Remus’s shoulders. Surprisingly, Remus allowed it, desperate for comfort.
“You remember the panic, the fear and paranoia; it was a dark time. Voldemort’s attacks grew bolder, more frequent. It was no longer political targets. They appeared random. The attack on the hospital… whole families murdered, their bodies displayed… People hardly left their houses in terror of being killed. The Ministry was on the brink of collapse and then…” Dumbledore’s voice was soft, struck with grief. Tears slid soundlessly down his face. “He attacked the Potters… The nightmare was over. Remus, they were celebrating in the streets, Muggle and magical streets alike. Fireworks. Hysteria. People demanded proof the Death Eaters had been captured for good or they’d riot and finish the job Voldemort had started. It was chaos. Everything balanced on a knife’s edge of joy and rage…Emergency trials were held. Dozens scheduled in a day. The newspaper was printing like mad. The evidence against Sirius…”
Remus moaned deep in his throat.
Dumbledore’s arm tightened around him. “Sirius was out of his mind with grief, perhaps. He wouldn’t stop laughing and screaming that it was his fault. And all those dead Muggles, with him the only one on the scene. You can’t know how terribly it pained me to see one of my favorite students brought so low. Perhaps that is why I missed the clues that Sirius was innocent. I was too emotionally involved. Whatever the reason, I will forever regret that day, Remus.”
Hoarse, voice ravaged by terrible emotion, Remus said, “Favorite? He was your favorite?” He yanked away from the old man, jerking out from under his arm, but his hand caught Dumbledore by the wrist. Rage, pure unbridled rage, made him see red. As if his eyes had filled with blood, he looked through a film of deep red. “What does your favor give anyone except ruin and death?” he growled harshly.
Adrenaline and fury, and his body began to shift just a little bit, his monster coming to the surface, called by his bloodlust. His nails hardened, piercing the old man’s forearm where he gripped him tightly. His teeth grew that little bit sharper. And his eyes… the iris grew, overtaking the white, brightening to wolf-yellow.
“All of your favorite students… used up… left broken or discarded or dead…”
Dumbledore’s heart raced in his chest as true mortal terror crashed through him. His fear hit the air, sharp and acrid. Remus’s pupils dilated, he leaned forward, baring sharpened teeth in a death-head grin.
“I think the problem is you!”
“I do not bear this guilt alone!” Dumbledore snapped, shaking. “Where were you, Remus, when your friends needed you?”
Remus felt the words like a blow. He fell back from the Headmaster and scrambled to his feet, panting.
Putting distance between them, he walked stiffly to the window, turning his back on the old man. Guilt and rage battled in his chest. Tears streaked his face. His head hung. He wrapped his arms around his chest, gasping for every breath, and tried not to fall apart.
As the minutes passed, Dumbledore felt his fear bleed away and he regretted lashing out at his young pupil. “There was nothing you could have done,” he told him sadly. “Not in that situation, but we can fix it. Sirius won’t stay long in Azkaban.”
Remus choked on a sob. “He’s already stayed too long.” Wiping his face, he tried to get himself under control. “You have a way to free him? The Minister won’t want to admit Sirius was innocent all along.”
“If the Minister won’t hold a re-trial in light of new evidence, then we will simply break Sirius free,” Dumbledore stated resolutely.
Pained beyond measure, Remus turned around. His features were human once more. “When?”
Dumbledore looked squarely into Remus’s eyes and vowed, “Before summer is out, Sirius will be home.”
“That’s months from now!” Remus cried, alarmed.
“I have already called in some old Order members. They will visit Sirius twice a day in shifts. They’ve spoken to him. Sirius knows his time there is coming to an end, and he is holding up remarkably well. Apparently his dog form has saved him from the worst effects of the prison.” Dumbledore’s gripped the railing on the stairs and pulled himself to his feet. His voice turned hard and commanding. “I want him out as much as you do, Remus, but if we can do it legally, it would be for the best. Sirius deserves his freedom, not to be shut away in hiding for the rest of his life.”
Remus had to admit Dumbledore was right. “I want a shift.”
Dumbledore smiled, painfully proud. He knew how hard it would be for Remus to go to that place and see his last remaining pack member locked up so cruelly. “Of course, my boy. I will contact you with the day and time.”
Remus pulled his shoulders back, lifted his chin. “I want to see Peter.”
Dumbledore frowned.
Remus did not back down. “I never got to see any of their bodies. Not James or Peter or Sirius. I got a copy of the newspaper and came rushing back, but it was too late. They had all disappeared. I was orphaned and betrayed and alone. I need to see the body this time, Headmaster. Please.”
“I will have to summon Severus.” Dumbledore made his way to the fireplace. Remus was gestured to the chair in front of the Headmaster’s desk. His nerves were still shaken; his heart still beat wildly.
As Dumbledore spoke into the fire, Remus looked around. The office had been cleaned and set to rights. The only evidence left of the damage and destruction were a few broken devices on the shelf. One spinning thing had a melted arm and stood still and dead; another palm-sized square had spiderweb cracks all over it; a few books had torn or singed bindings, but overall the office looked as it always did ever since he was a young child.
The outside window was dark and cold. Snow had stopped falling. In its place, deep darkness pressed in around them, bringing to mind the cold, still darkness of death. The few candles lit and flickering to give them light seemed suddenly a fragile barrier between them and the darkness pressing against the glass. Remus shivered.
Severus stepped free of the fire. He looked as he always did, wearing black professor robes, sallow skin that didn’t see enough sunlight, large, hooked nose, and dark piercing eyes. In one hand, he held a rectangular box. Runes were etched into it and they seemed to twist and wiggle out of the corner of Remus’s eyes. A sick feeling settled in his gut.
The three of them were silent. Remus had come to stand with them in the center of the room without remembering how he got there. It seemed as if he were in a dream, flickering like the candles. Severus bent and put the box on the floor in the center of their huddle. A single tap of his wand and it expanded, revealing the truth; it was a crude coffin. It seemed the size for a teenager and Remus shivered again in foreboding, but Peter had always been the shortest of them.
Dumbledore swung his wand, pale as bone in the dim light of the room. The lid lifted away and the smell of death poured out. Remus took a half-step back, but forced himself to stand still. Eyes watering, he stared into the coffin.
Peter’s head rested on his shoulders only coincidentally to fit the shape of the box, for there was a jagged, bloody line where his head had been torn clean from his body. His hair was straggly and faded, thinning and balding at the top. His eyes stared blindly, a color Remus had never seen before, faded and washed out. His skin seemed waxen and saggy.
Remus gagged, his hand coming up to cover his mouth. It seemed a poor replica of the friend, the brother Remus had grown up alongside, lay before him. A terrible, frightening doll. Yet the weight of the body at his feet, the dead stare of those eyes was too terrible to deny. Peter lay dead in that box.
Remus turned with a choked cry. He tried to remind himself that Peter had betrayed them, had framed Sirius and doomed him to suffer a fate worse than death… but too many years of grieving for his friend lay behind him and all he could feel was a terrible sadness, a loss that went soul deep.
“How did he do it?” Severus hissed. He had Remus by the upper arm. They stood halfway down the corridor outside of Dumbledore’s office in the darkest point between two flickering torches, casting them both in shadows. “I know he changed Lily. Tell me how.”
Remus blinked dumbly. It was as if the man spoke another language. He had no idea what he was saying.
Severus snarled and slammed Remus up against the stone wall hard enough to make Remus’s eyes rattle in his skull. “Are you listening, Lupin?”
Remus gave a weak snarl, but, yes, now he was listening. “Get your hands off me,” he said lowly, threat growing in his voice.
Severus’s hands spasmed around Remus’s jacket. The rage in his face bled away to reveal deep, abiding pain. “Please. Lupin. I’m begging you. I need to… I need to know… if there was any way I could have saved her… I have to know…”
Remus felt his anger drain away. Severus was close enough to kiss. He smelled of potions and tears. He could hear the man’s heart pounding, beating helplessly in its cage, inches from his own. Without trying to pull away, Remus scrubbed a hand over his face. “I’m sorry, Severus…”
Severus shook his head, his greasy hair falling to curtain his expression. “Just answer me. How did he do it?”
“How do you know it was P-Peter?” Remus’s voice caught on his friend’s name, pain bleeding around the constants and vowels.
“I was there… when Draco confronted Pettigrew.” In Severus’s mouth, the name burned the ear with acidic hatred. “He confessed. Now tell me! What did he do to her? You must have a clue somewhere in there, Lupin!”
Remus stared at Severus, heart in his throat, as what Severus was suggesting really hit him. Peter… Peter had done that to Lily? It seemed impossible, but it seemed just as impossible for Peter to have betrayed James and framed Sirius. To have raped kids in Gryffindor Tower… Molly’s kids… Merlin! It was as if Remus could understand the words, but he couldn’t truly grasp what they meant. He was still in shock over it all.
“I don’t know, Severus! I don’t know anything!” he whispered harshly, panting and going into a panic once more.
“You useless…” Severus bit off the rest of his curse. His hands tightened on Remus’s shoulders, clutching him like claws.
Remus stared wide-eyed like a frightened rabbit staring down the jaws of a killer.
“There is a way…” Severus’s voice dropped, low and compelling. He leaned even closer, his shadow falling over Remus completely. “Lupin… There is a way for us to finally know the truth.” Severus’s ink dark eyes bore into him. He was taller than Remus by a few inches but in that moment it felt like he towered over him by feet. “A ritual… We can finally know, Lupin… Please…”
Remus could only nod helplessly. His voice stollen by an invisible hand grasping his throat. He was shaking, terrified of what they might find, but he was equally determined to know. Just as it was with Severus, a question haunted him. It weighed him down, chains of burning fire coiling tighter with every breath…
Could he have stopped all this?
…
Deep down in the dungeons… deeper than the Slytherin common room and classrooms… not on any map - even the Marauder’s Map - there lay a powerful and sacred space. A ritual room created by the Founders of the school for Deep magics.
They traveled there by the clear, white light glowing on the tip of Severus’s wand. The cold light shifted with every step, casting their shadows on the corridor’s walls. Large and monstrous, they were terrible figures stalking them and kept flickering in at the corner of Remus’s perception, making him start and whip his head around. The shadows seemed to laugh at him.
Shivering, Remus wrapped his arms around himself. There was no protection from the bite of winter here. Severus’s breath came blooming from his lips, a cloud that reappeared just as it was about to fade into nothing. Remus’s own breath was much shallower and faster, less visible, but Severus was driven, focused, he didn’t flinch and cower like the man at his back.
White light finally fell upon a door. Blood red in appearance, it had a shine as if it were made out of a huge piece of ruby. The light sparked and shifted ominously inside the door’s depths. The ghosts of all who dared to enter trapped inside forever.
“Severus…” Remus whispered, balking. “Maybe we should…”
Severus whipped around to face him. Madness sparked in his eyes. His tone became manipulative. “How will you explain your cowardice to Black? Does he not deserve answers? Does he not deserve to know why he suffered for so long?”
Remus shuddered and fell silent as Severus spun triumphantly and pushed open the blood-red door.
Pitch black darkness enveloped them. The light from Severus’s wand didn’t seem to penetrate more than a few inches. There were marks and carvings on the floor, the lines of a pentagram, scored into solid stone. With an eerie groan, the door slid shut behind them. Remus shook as deep red light emanated from it, cast over the floor and their bodies in slow, undulating waves, giving the illusion they were under water, drowning in blood.
“Get it together,” Severus spat. Shadows made his eyes seem like dark holes, his mouth a frightening snarl. “Come stand to the North.”
Remus was too spooked to move. Even his wolf-side felt low to the ground, tail between his legs. So he stood frozen and watched with wide, unblinking eyes as Severus removed something from his pocket. Remus’s breath caught in his lungs. A vice snapped closed around his chest and throat. The make-shift coffin appeared in the center of the circle before the kneeling Severus. As if in slow motion, Remus watched as the man pulled the lid off and exposed its terrible burden to the room.
“No,” Remus groaned, voice a croak. Tears streaked his face as he stared at the mutilated and aged visage of his long-lost brother.
Severus cut off his view as he swooped down on him, hands claws on Remus’s shoulders once more. “This man betrayed you. He killed your beloved family. He murdered Lily long before the Dark Lord raised his wand. He raped several little boys in the Tower and stole their memories to protect himself. He is a vile piece of trash and you will help me unravel what he has done.”
Remus gagged, tears streaming down his face. He yanked away from Severus’s painful grip. He wanted to howl his denial. Peter - sweet Peter - the tagalong - the blushing, nervous one - the smallest and softest of them - No, not Peter - He wouldn’t! He couldn’t!
But just as vividly he remembered the beautiful Lily Evans, who burned with passion and determination to succeed - changed into a simpering, love-sick girl. His imagination conjured Sirius devastated, emaciated, surrounded by demons, screaming in torment. Then an image of Dumbledore battered, his office trashed, Molly Weasley to blame after she took her boys home - the same energetic boys Remus had come to know over day-visits and celebrations. And a growl rose up in his throat. He was still shaking like a leaf, but he placed his feet on either side of the Northern point of the pentagram.
Severus bared his teeth in a fierce smile and moved to the South of the circle, between the two bottom points of the pentagram. He lifted his arms, his robe sleeves creating wings of black shadows that seemed to rise above him ominously. Remus mimicked him, whimpers strangling in his throat. His eyes dropped to Peter. To those dead staring eyes… the gruesome torn edges of his neck…
Remus’s heart banged like a war drum. What the hell was this ritual? Was Severus going to bring Peter back? Make him talk? He almost stepped out of the circle - imaging the horrific rattling sound of Peter’s voice, the gurgle through his severed throat - but magic glued his feet to the floor… His eyes flashed up to Severus in horror, but it was too late to stop what was happening…
Severus’s magic blazed from him, shooting along the lines of the pentagram. Deep indigo - verging on purple - the lines began to glow with the essence of the wizard’s core magic. Voice terrible in its raw passion, Severus Called.
“I call upon the Five Sacred Elements!”
Eyes glittering with obsession and mystical power, Severus spat water - breathed out in a long exhale - crouched, gathering up a bit of dust and gravel to toss before him - held his hands cupped before him and fire, hot and pure, burning blue-white, erupted and blazed brilliantly before getting sucked down into the lines of the pentagram. For the final element, Spirit, he slashed his palms. (Remus, panting in terror, stared in horror - Where had the knife come from!?) The blade glowed red from the light of the ruby door. Blood sprayed the air, a fan of almost-black. Remus cringed at the sound of blood splattering against the stone.
“I stand before All, as a humble Seeker of Justice! To right a wrong and to embrace a Truth yet hidden! By the magic granted to me, by the power of the Four Sacred Points and Five Sacred Elements, I summon the eyes and ears of five deities!”
“lăsați trecutul să intre în prezent”
Remus wanted to slam his hand over his ears. Severus’s voice grew thunderous and distorted. He sank to his his knees, mouth open in a silent scream.
“Three brides of death and decay! Morana - The Morrigan - The Erinyes!
Oh god, Remus couldn’t breathe… The names reverberated with the power to destroy the world. Five deities? Five! Surely one would be enough for this madness!
“praeteritum in hoc glorietur”
“Two Lords of darkness! The Horned God of the Dark Wilds and Dis Pater, eternal Judge of Broken Oaths and the Ruler of the Underworld!”
Remus was on all fours, head hanging, sweat running down his body in rivers. Lightening shrieked and tore apart the very air. The earth trembled and cracked open, splintering the very core of the planet. Peter’s body rattled in its box - the sound of a skeleton dancing. And still Severus stood, arms outstretched, spidery hands bleeding rain, eyes glowing with madness.
“cunoscut adevărul mors”
“I call upon the Five to turn Your eyes to Peter Pettigrew! Torn brutally from life, neck severed by the jaws of Vengeance! His Truth stolen from the living!”
Remus was flat on his belly, hands scrabbling uselessly for purchase. A terrible ringing took up in his ears and he couldn’t even shake his head to clear it. His cheek scraped against stone; the force pressing against his back pinned his head to the floor.
“I call first upon the merciful Morana - Goddess of Death and Rebirth - wrap us in Your sheltering arms so that we may be reborn from this terrible knowledge beyond the grave.”
“ut verius loquar să fie”
Remus felt his lungs expand that little bit more, as if a thin buffer had been placed between him and the nightmare ritual. He nearly cried in relief, and he pressed back up onto all fours. Lifting his head, he saw Peter’s headless body jerking and shaking, his head eerily still and staring blindly. And across the terrible corpse, Severus stood, hair and robes snapping wildly about his form.
“I call upon The Erinyes - spirits of Vengeance and Fate - carry the Truth forward so the many cries for Vengeance against Peter Pettigrew can be silenced for once and all!”
“prin moarte”
Terrible spirits - mouths open in dark voids - eyes just as terribly empty and bottomless - flew around them, a tornado of death and madness. Claws of silver drenched in blood scrabbled at the circle, pulled painfully at his hair, scratched his legs, threatened to pull him into the dark. Remus clawed at the floor, trying to hold on.
“I call upon The Horned God! God of the Wilds and Darkness! Allow this Cursed Child of the Moon to be a vessel of this circle!”
“meus ad te veniat”
Remus reared back on his knees, up off his hands, nails cracked and bleeding. His mouth opened to scream a denial when he suddenly felt a weight on his head. It was an enormous hand that could shatter his skull as easy as cradle it… And suddenly he could no longer move as something too vast to comprehend took complete control of his body.
The shadow of two enormous horns rose from his head and speared the darkness. The weight of them was enough to snap his neck had the God not already taken possession of his mortal body. And still Severus pressed on…
“I call upon The Morrigan - Goddess of Death to carry Peter Pettigrew’s soul so that his memories may return!”
“să treacă adevărul”
From a great distance, Remus saw. Saw Peter’s eyes clear of death and blink. Awareness flooded into those once-dead orbs and there was such terror in Peter’s expression that it warped his features into something monstrous…
“I call upon Dis Pater, the Terrible Judge of Broken Oaths, to release Peter Pettigrew’s voice unto the living! So that his betrayal can be known!”
“vero et pertransiet”
Something grabbed hold of Remus’s neck. A long hand… No! A massive tongue. It encircled his neck three times, wet - throbbing - hot. The Rage that emanated from that touch, the soul-cutting Truth captured within the appendage, would have shattered Remus's sanity instantly, but the buffer of Morana and the Horned God protected him from complete annihilation. Still, he felt like his flesh and skeleton were strung with razor wire curling tighter and tighter…
Remus, arms limp, head titled back, eyes glowing with the dark green of the Horned God, huge horns rising from his skull, opened his mouth inhumanly wide, his throat slightly elongated and wrapped in what looked like cut and bleeding intestines… and the gods and goddess spoke through him:
“ASK YOUR QUESTION, SUMMONER!”
The boom of the Voice that escaped Remus’s too-wide mouth literally distorted the air. The Circle warped and waved, the crude coffin shattered into bits of dust and wood slivers. Severus fell to his knees. Blood oozed from his ears. His body would have been shattered into pieces if it weren’t for Morana’s protective hands. Peter’s head gaped like a suffocating fish. His eyes rolled wildly, spittle and blood flecked his swollen lips.
“Peter Pettigrew, tell me of your guilt!” Severus screamed, voice ragged with rage and grief and the desperate desire to finally know.
He stared as Peter’s animated head stilled. The terror distorting his features melted away. His eyes came to rest on Severus, pleading for Severus to listen and understand. From across the circle, Peter’s voice came from Remus’s lips, but Severus never once took his eyes from the severed head lying in the center of the circle.
“Fifth Year… after Sirius tricked you into going to the Shack… They didn’t know I was there. I watched from the cracked door. I was too scared to go in… James was so angry! I- I’v never seen him so angry… Said he didn’t even know Sirius if he could use our best friend to murder someone… Sirius fell to his knees… He was crying, begging for James to forgive him… swore he never meant for you to die, just be afraid, just make you run, make you leave them alone, always following, always nipping at their heels, Sirius wasn’t thinking…”
Peter’s expression was one of desperation.
“James wouldn’t listen… He accused Sirius of going back to the Dark, of keeping secrets… Sirius… He looked shattered. He screamed at James not to say that. He was crying so hard! Reaching out for James… Swore he wasn’t going to the Dark… but James grabbed him. Shook him. Told Sirius he either told him the truth now or they would never speak again… So Sirius g-grabbed him… he k-kissed James… Said he was in love with him… that he tried to fight it, but he couldn’t help it… that was his secret… Sirius knew it was disgusting and wrong, but he l-loved him so much… w-wanted James as his…”
Disgust and horror crossed his features, and a painful confusion.
“I ran… but I knew I had to help them… I had to make them better… Sirius… Sirius was sick… and James… I could see it… He loved Sirius like a brother… He didn’t want to hurt him… He forgave him… He was going to get corrupted, too, if I didn’t do something! So I… I wrote to the Black Family… I told them… Told them about Sirius… and James… Sirius was disowned, but they wouldn’t stand for Sirius disgracing their name further… They told me about a ritual… A blood ritual… If I made Lily love James, he’d be saved from Sirius’s corruption… then Sirius, if he knew for sure James would not love him like that, maybe he would get better, too!”
Hope, dumb blind hope.
“I - I brewed Amortentia and… and took James’s blood when he was sleeping… then I… I cast Imperio and made Lily follow me into the Shack… Lord Black was waiting for me… He put her to sleep and began the ritual to bind the potion to her heart… used Jame’s blood to seal it… At first… James was so happy… Sirius was upset, but I knew it was just his sickness. He’d get better once he saw the way it was meant to be! … But Lily… She was so different after the spell… and everyone figured it out… I was so scared they would know it was me… Remus told me, Remus who was always so kind to everyone, that the person should go to Azkaban! … I was just trying to help!”
That Peter had the gall to sound and look betrayed when he was the one to betray them all made Severus clench his fists in rage.
“Then the war got worse and… and everything was going so wrong… Sirius was so being so reckless, fighting for the Order… and James was so different, so serious and unhappy… and then the Dark Lord got the werewolves… and Remus left us…”
Fear, pure and simple. Selfish fear.
“Then James… He found out what happened to Lily… He never stopped looking… never stopped trying to break the spell… He discovered some signature of the Black’s… Told me he was going to confront them and make them tell him everything…”
Peter’s head was crying, filled with a grief he had no right to feel.
“I… James made me Secret Keeper… Sirius was too reckless… Always in the line of fire… The chances of him getting captured, interrogated… So I… I had to! Or James was going to find out it was me! You should have seen the look on his face when he promised to destroy whoever had done this to Lily… So I went to the D-Dark L-Lord… I told him where the Potters were hiding… It wasn’t like James was even happy! And Lily… Well…”
Severus would have lunged at the dead bastard, fingers aching to claw the bastard’s eyes out, but the ritual held him in place.
“Sirius knew I was Secret Keeper… He came for me… So I had to get rid of him… I knew he never got better… He never stopped wanting James like that… So he deserved to be in Azkaban anyway!… I set it up so he would take the fall… I mean, everyone knew how close Sirius and James were. They never even questioned it… But I knew.. Knew I couldn’t ever show my face again… No one could know what I’d done. No one would understand! They’d send me to Azkaban! … So I found a good, Pure family… I found the Weasleys…”
Peter never looked more rat-like, all shifting eyes filled with a crude cunning.
“I was a good pet to Percy. I looked after him and comforted him when his brothers were too much. For five years things were okay… but Hogwarts… going back to Hogwarts was… upsetting… I missed it so badly… being a student and magic and freedom! I missed it! Missed being human… It wasn’t fair! I was just trying to help everyone! I was just protecting myself!”
Righteous rage mixed with guilt.
“It was an accident at first… I was in the showers getting water and these Seventh-Year girls came in… They were so pretty! I hadn’t felt so alive in years as I watched them talk and bathe… I was so scared, though… Of coming out… of getting caught… I just… I just wanted some freedom…”
A look of helpless need sufficed his face with a sick light.
“I tried to go up the stairs to the dorm rooms… Just to look!… but I couldn’t… The stairs wouldn’t let me pass… I was afraid someone would notice, so I never tried it again… I just stuck to the bathrooms… and I would t-touch myself afterward… but it wasn’t enough… I woke up once, in my human form, rutting against the air… and it felt so good… and I realized… in the dark… on his stomach… P-Percy didn’t look that different from a First-Year girl…”
Lust blazed in the evil bastard’s dilated eyes, his dead-grey cheeks taking on a feverish red hue.
“And it wasn’t like I hurt him! I was really careful and soft! And I deserved it, didn’t I? I was a good pet for so long! I mean, I felt bad he was so upset about it, but he would get over it. And sometimes I was certain he felt good, too!”
Rage blasted across his face. True hatred distorting his features.
“But then HE had to ruin EVERYTHING! The ONE thing I took for myself. My ONE selfishness! He had to take that away from me! I couldn’t touch Percy after that. I tried to find someone else, but I had to be even more careful. I had to get off with just their thighs and hands while they slept. But it wasn’t the SAME! It wasn’t good enough… Percy was so sweet, so soft. So tight!…”
Like a distorted picture of a child, glee lit up Pettigrew’s face.
“But that bastard slipped up! He left his precious pet alone and… oh god… It was better than I ever imagined… God, god, his throat… as good as Percy’s ass… Harry was so pretty… his chest and waist and ass… Just like a girl! … He was meant for me! Meant to be mine! I created him! He would never have been born if it wasn’t for ME!”
The fanatical belief drained away into a look of horror.
“But… god, god, I nearly killed Ron… It just got out of hand… oh my god, he almost DIED! I hurt him… I didn’t mean to, but I hurt him… I-I stopped… I swear I stopped… I wasn’t going to touch any of them again… but… b-but I knew… knew it was too late… I waited… I guess I just hoped I was wrong… How could they know it was me?! … But I knew… as soon as I felt that cold rage fill the Tower… I knew… and I ran for it… found my boys… took them as hostages just in case… I was almost free! God! His eyes! His EYES! He was going to kill me! He was going to KILL ME!”
Peter’s face contorted into a look of perfect terror, and his life slowly bled away. Color and awareness drained away like water rushing down a drain. His eyes clouded over, taking on the stare of a dead fish. His face went waxy and still.
Shaken, sick, Severus looked across the circle to see the slick thing wrapping around Remus’s throat slowly unwind and disappear once more into the darkness. Terrible eyes of green fire stared at him from Remus’s face. The shadows of two massive horns still crowned his head. The Erinyes came shrieking between them, crashed down into the corpse of Peter Pettigrew. The body jerked three times as if shot before going heavy and dead once more.
“Summoner, Payment is Due.”
Severus shivered, but he sank to his knees in supplication. “I am Yours, my Lord.”
The Horned God stared down at the mortal wizard, an eternal flame burning in his eyes. “MORANA Deemed You Worthy and Demands No Payment… The ERINYES Know Your Fate and Are Satisfied… DIS PATER Gave You Truth in Return for You Never Being Able to Break Your Word Henceforth… The MORRIGAN Will Ask a Price of You in a Moment When Life Hovers over the Edge of Death.”
Severus said nothing, accepting the price of the ritual without flinching.
“As for My Price…” The Horned God took a step in his mortal shell. The ground shook and trembled. Another step, and it was light as feather, the whisper of a wild-thing escaping a predator. “You Will CURE my Children of Moon Madness. You Will Not Simply Suppress the Beast as You’ve so Cleverly Learned to Do. You Will Make Them WHOLE. Do You Understand Me, Summoner?”
“Yes, my Lord,” Severus answered evenly, even though inside he quailed at the impossible task.
“You Will Do This, Summoner, Before Five Winters Pass. Should You Fail, You Will Become the Prey of My Hunt.”
Bile burned up Severus’s throat. Unable to speak, he managed to nod his head to indicate he understood.
The Horned God flung his head back and HOWLED. It seemed hundreds and thousands of animals screamed with him, all of Nature baying with their God. Severus screamed in agony, the sound too much for his body and soul to endure. He collapsed, blackness snapping closed around his mind…
Chapter end.
HAPPY HALLOWEEN!!!
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Freedom Bound in Chains