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Old Friend	By : Prosperosdaughter Category: HP Canon Characters paired with Original Characters > Slash - Male/Male Views: 3803 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: JK Rowling and her associates own Harry Potter. I make no money from my stories.

Chapter List
- 10
- 11
- 12
Disclaimer: The Potterverse is owned by JKR.

Wandsong and Idris Lydiard and his pack are all mine.

This chapter dovetails with Chapter 88 of 'You Will Not Kiss Me', but from Idris and Alphard's points of view.

(I meant to post this last weekend. Forgive me, I had a stinker of a cold and I forgot, but the Battle follows and will be ready to post this weekend.)

Chapter 11: The Eve of Battle

Alphard staggered out of his Apparition at the wards. No sooner had he ceased turning than Stacy, Spindle, Freddie and Conway were at his side, accompanying him back inside the wards with their wands drawn, Botolph, Jethro and Zebedee covering them them. As they strode through the encampment, Conway breathlessly filled Alphard in on as much as he knew of the plan and then suddenly Alphard found Angharad in his arms.

"Dearest Alf!" she cried. "I've been so worried for ye. Are ye hurt?"

She pushed herself out of his arms, her hands fluttering over his face and chest, searching for wounds.

"I'm fine. I promise, dear heart, I'm fine," he said, picking up her hands and kissing her fingers.

He spied through the opening of one the tents the wizard who had gone with Uriah to deliver the message. He was tied to a chair and unconscious. Alphard strode to him and cast to revive him and watched with grim satisfaction to see the man's eyes widen in fear and incomprehension.

"Anything to say to me now?" Alphard said, disdainfully.

The man shook his head quickly and looked down.

Alphard's jaw worked, suddenly recalling all the foul, Dark curses his father had at his disposal when Alphard was a boy. He had learnt at his father's knee way to hurt this man to the exquisite limits and leave no marks – things that a wretch like this could barely comprehend. Alphard's eyes narrowed and his jaw tensed.

And, for the first time in his life, he wanted to use them now.

"Alf. Come away. Leave him. Geraint and Gareth will see to him. Ye need to see Remus Lupin," Angharad said, pulling Alphard away. The familiar name broke his concentration on the misbegotten wizard. His nephew's friend: the werewolf. The pallid, skinny boy. Spy for Dumbledore. He took one last look at the wizard and then swept out of the tent and into his own where Remus Lupin paced the floor, drumming his wand against his thigh, a picture of pent-up stress, ready to blow.

He was nothing like Alphard remembered. But of course, he wouldn't be. He was a man now, the same age as Sirius would have been. Not as tall, but certainly not reedy anymore. Lupin scraped his hand through his shaggy hair as he paced then turned as he saw Alphard. And like Sirius, this man looked so much older than he should: prematurely greying and lined. Such lives these boys seemed to have led, Alphard thought.

Lupin's face fell, his mouth forming an O of shock.

"Dear God," Lupin murmured and looked unsteady. Angharad rushed to him and settled him on the stool once more.

"I told you, you're not fully healed yet. Alf can help. He's a proper Healer," she said as she took off Lupin's shirt once more, as he stared, seemingly transfixed, at Alphard.

"It can't be ..." gasped Lupin, his eyes huge. "How?"

Alphard advanced, suddenly realising how very much alike he looked to Sirius, and how this must seem to Lupin. He and Sirius had kept their meetings secret: a huge secret to be revealed with Sirius's pardon. It had seemed such a good idea at the time.

"Be calm, Remus," said Alphard gently. "I'm Alphard. Do you remember me? Sirius's Uncle Alphard?"

"Oh dear God!" Lupin rasped and his eyes seemed to brim with tears. "I'm sorry. I thought ... I'm so sorry." Lupin looked away, his face colouring as he wiped at his cheeks like a child. Alphard saw his hands tremble. He placed a calming hand over them and placed them in Lupin's lap.

"Just the shock, Remus. It's fine. It's okay," he soothed, remembering how Sirius had told him of this friend, the only one left alive, the one he had thought a traitor – what a cruel revelation that must have been – but how they had rebuilt their friendship, slowly, painfully. The boy who was a werewolf. How Alphard wished he had known back then when he had helped Sirius become an Animagus: perhaps he could have helped more – for the memory of Idris, of course.

"May I treat your ribs?" he asked, slipping into his professional manner. Lupin looked at him once more, his expression still one of struggle for comprehension, but he nodded. Alphard cast and saw some breaks had already been repaired, but there was some other more complex injuries. The man had taken quite a hiding, no doubt.

"You're Idris's mate – Alf?" Lupin asked as Alphard worked. Alphard nodded and gave a small smile as he drew together a ripped muscle and Lupin flinched. It was a small flinch for the size of the tear. Judging by the scars that littered the man's upper body, he was more used to pain than most. There were more scars on this body than on the oldest of the werewolves here – and there were bites, tears made by teeth - they weren't on the elderly werewolves. He wondered what lay at the root of it.

"Did you escape? Did Seth ... Severus help you? Did you see if he's all right? What happened?" Lupin asked, his expression desperate.

Alphard stopped casting, and took a step back and held Lupin's shoulders.

"I escaped exactly how your mate instructed me, Remus. I didn't see anything else. Now, let's finish this, shall we?" he said calmly, and poised his wand again, as Lupin nodded slowly, his eyes flicking over Alphard's shoulder as if somehow he could see outside if he just concentrated hard enough.

All the time, Angharad looked on, watching Alphard work so efficiently as he himself watched his jumpy patient carefully. She saw the worry and stress etched into Lupin's face. She had only found out today who Seth Moore really was. It seemed to make sense that fragility they had seemed to have when they were with the pack that summer and that it was Seth Moore himself who pretended to be a follower of he-they-didn't-name. That sense of their life together, interrupted, settled now in her mind.

"Idris will have your Seth Moore here with you soon, Remus Lupin. Try and calm," Angharad said gently. "And then we have more to do."

"More?" asked Alphard, finishing his casting and handed Lupin his shirt.

"We need a show for that wizard we've got," said Lupin indicating outside. "He has to believe Seth's capture is genuine. Idris has arranged that Geraint and Gareth will hold a small show for him."

AB~IL~ AB~IL~AB~IL~AB~IL

Once the battle ultimatum was given, Idris pulled Snape away and into the mass of his pack. The man reeked of terror as Idris held him, but it was not the terror of fight or flight; it was a different desperation. As Idris watched Snape's wild expression, he understood the man feared for his mate. They waited until until Greyback's werewolves moved away then Idris dragged Snape along, ensuring it was uncomfortable and scowling at him that he would pay dearly for his trespass so none would think the captive was anything other than their sworn enemy.

"The Dark Lord's torturer, is it? We'll see about that," Idris sneered, then pulled in to Disapparate. Still mindful of Snape's cover, Idris threw Snape away from him, then heard and felt the dislocation of Snape's shoulder. Whilst Idris admired Snape's strength in controlling his scream, the man should have had his wits about him to prevent that injury. He grabbed his other arm, and muttered at him dragging him through his massed werewolves. There was the messenger wizard, on the verge of soiling himself. Idris nodded at his twin sons.

"Yer'll be a different wizard when ye return to yer precious Dark Lord ... if we return ye at all," rumbled Idris as they passed the three, and yet more fear assailed his nostrils from Snape. All Idris wanted to do now was give Remus Lupin his mate back, and set eyes on his own even as he saw Snape's eyes glitter with tears as he marched him relentlessly through the camp.

"Cryin', is it?" Idris snarled, cruelly. "Mightta known!"

They reached Alphard's tent and Idris flung Snape to the floor at the feet of Alphard.

"Think your Dark Lord will save thee now, Snape?" growled Idris. "D'ye think I'm not ready to dirty my hands with 'ee? Lay hands on my mate an' yer'll pay the price."

Idris picked Snape up by his robe front and grasped his face painfully, recalling again the blood on the parchment, then Lupin spoke.

"My prize, remember. We agreed. Snape owes me a debt. He pays my price first. You can have what's left."

Idris squeezed Snape's face hard again, still emanating fury, but he nodded and violently cast Snape on the floor once more.

Idris whirled and, facing the tent flap, slashed his wand so a heavy silencing charm fell over the tent and sealed it from all outside. He had watched the face of the wizard called Scabior drain and look ill.

All to the good. Let him think he'll be next, Idris thought.

As soon they knew they could speak freely, as Lupin rushed to Snape, undoing his bindings and talking to him, but Idris didn't listen. He pulled Alphard to him roughly, desperate for the closeness of what could have been lost.

"Why did you …?" Idris started gruffly, holding Alphard close, his eyes now glittering with relief.

"I'm sorry! I didn't think. Forgive me!" Alphard interrupted him, returning the embrace and pulling Angharad in to it. "I just didn't think."

"Dear Merlin, why ever would ye?" Angharad said, softly, her arms around each man's waist as she kissed the cheek of both. "Our mountain has watched over us this day to have Remus Lupin and his mate help us get you back."

They heard Snape swear as Lupin touched his shoulder and looked down to where Lupin knelt with Snape.

"I pulled it out," said Idris, giving the group a sheepish smile. "Didn't expect 'im to be so distracted."

"What?" Lupin barked angrily, and his wand was in his hand casting over Snape.

"Let me," said Alphard. "A healing spell for a healing spell, I think," he smiled warmly as he knelt next to the pair, recalling how he had felt healing in his stomach when Snape had awakened him – potion or spell, he knew not which, but now he could return the favour.

Now Idris barked the same question at Lupin, but Alphard interceded, seeing where these two males could come to blows over this complicated pretence in which they had connived.

"I think we can say that everyone played their part well. I believe I felt a healing spell, is that right – erm – Seth? Severus?"

"We should stick to Seth, I think," said Lupin, his eyes never leaving Snape's face. "Severus is such an unusual name, if something slipped, his secret would be out."

"Seth it is, then." Alphard smiled again as he cast at Snape's shoulder. "I'm right that I felt a healing spell?"

"The runt, Jake, he kicked you when you were Stunned. I healed you."

"Well, I thank you." Alphard cast and manoeuvred the dislocation back into place smoothly. "Anything else needing attention?" Alphard Summoned a pain reliever in a small phial and gave that to Snape as he looked at the red marks from Idris's grip which would doubtless darken and bruise.

"There'll be bruising, but it's best to leave it – 'my marks and scars I carry with me', shall we say," said Snape, still seeming quite disorientated to Alphard, but he recognised the quotation and whilst it made him smile in recognition, it horrified him in its implication. He rarely met wizards who enjoyed Muggle literature as much as he did. Perhaps, he could relax this man by something so familiar.

"Ah,'to be a witness for me that I have fought'," Alphard said. "Pilgrim's Progress! Very good, I understand."

Snape nodded again and then stood and Alphard retreated back to Idris and Angharad who embraced him once more.

"D'ye think he's genuine, this spy of Dumbledore's?" Idris asked his mates quietly.

"Oh yes," said Angharad. "Just look."

She looked over at Lupin and Snape appreciatively, and Alphard followed her look. He smiled to see Lupin propped against the high stool with Snape leaning against him, talking softly to each other, their hands gently touching each other's faces. Even though this man had such a severe face, he saw how the touch of Lupin softened Snape's rigid spine, and his hawk-like features gentled with each whispered word and light touch. Alphard was sure there was no dissembling here.

Alphard turned back to his own love, still holding him tightly, who was breathing in deeply as if breathing Alphard's scent like perfume.

Idris's hand raked through Alphard's hair as he looked over Snape appraisingly.

"I see you now, not-Seth-Moore," he murmured.

This was why the man never appeared to fit in his skin. It hadn't been his skin - Idris had known, when he looked back, that it was Snape's true self. This skin, sharp features and sallow complexion, was the true man. Had Idris not met and talked to this man before, he would have said he was an unkind-looking man, but he had seen him teach the Patronus Charm, join with his mate in the rut of the night and now he saw the truth of him, seeing his complete repose in his mate and the fire in his eyes.

"To work," Idris said, finally, as if all his resolution were required, and he disengaged himself from his mates, cupping each dear face with each of his large hands then he turned to Remus Lupin and Seth Moore.

"You two. C'mon. We need ta plan."

Angharad went to fetch Idris's most trusted Betas, Bedwyr, Arwel and Caradog, and his sons. During that short absence, Idris drew Alphard into his embrace.

"Never scare us like that again, Alf. I couldn't be without you now," murmured Idris.

"Never," Alphard swore and held Idris, deeply mortified by what his carelessness had caused.

Within minutes, the others arrived.

"Ye'll have seen me bring this man in like a whipped dog," Idris said, nodding over to Snape. "But he isn't any such thing. If ye remember Seth Moore who taught the Patronus and defensive spells with Remus Lupin – this is him."

The werewolves muttered in shock, as they all stared at Snape, who, Idris couldn't help but note, had regained considerable composure since he had been reunited with his mate. He now stood straight and proud, that hawk-like face now quite imposing.

"Hear me," Idris commanded. "Give me your pledge that what is told to you in tent shall not be repeated outside of it – to anyone, y'hear? No-one. The battle – our future even - may depend on it!"

Silence fell at the pronouncement, and one by one, each werewolf swore exactly as Idris asked.

"This Seth Moore is a spy for the Light. What we have done so far, we have done to ensure he is not discovered by the Dark. However, he helped Alf to escape and his knowledge will help us win the battle coming and drive away Riddle and his jackals."

Then he pulled Snape's wand from his belt and returned it to him. With that, the spell broke and the assembled company began to talk as Idris laid out a large piece of parchment and plotted out the surrounding area as Snape contributed the current positions of Greyback's pack.

Idris and his lieutenants discussed various vantage and ambush points and tactics and watch around the camp was doubled, and those werewolves capable of Disillusionment Charms were sent out in a group to scout the others' current whereabouts and take out as many look-outs silently before dawn as possible. If the opposition could be frightened by unexpected losses; all the better. As far as Idris was concerned, Greyback would be looking to secure advantage by underhand methods, so that is how they would play the game.

Lupin told the group everything he knew of Greyback's tactics, and both he and Snape told them about their last fight with Greyback and his smaller pack, back when they had raided the Whitby Werewolves. Snape told them of Aidan, probably Greyback's best fighter, vicious and unscrupulous, who had killed one of the group called Acastus when aiming the Killing Curse at Stacy and Greyback had killed another called Thad who Lupin suspected had been the mate of Jethro. The lieutenants growled ominously.

They planned for hours, each lieutenant being assigned certain manoeuvres, to envelop Greyback's pack in a pincer movement leaving them only retreat. Snape advised that he expected Greyback to call on the Dementors to begin with to weaken Idris's pack. These had to be dispelled at the outset as that too would fatally weaken Greyback's pack's collective resolve. Finally, their planning meeting broke up, the lieutenants leaving to hold meetings of their own and the five were left to eat at Alphard's table.

"I can only stop a spell with 'ee," said Idris. "My place is with the pack on the eve o' battle." Idris finished his food quickly and excused himself to join the pack around the winter fire on battle's eve – his place as Alpha to be with his pack. He had very much wanted to stay with Alphard and Angharad, almost finding himself wishing he were ordinary, just so he could hold his mates tight to him and leave the responsibilities to others. But it was his responsibility, so he took his place by the fire, as his pack slowly gathered on this eve of battle, chattering excitedly even though the tension was palpable. He talked to each and every one, quietly confident and reassuring.

Angharad and Alphard had wanted to accompany Idris, both knowing the responsibility lay heavy on his shoulders if he was alone, but they ate with their company, all of them desperately hungry after such a day: the stew, thickened with barley and root vegetables and only a few rabbits that they managed to find, tasting like a feast to the famished.

Alphard noticed the looks that Lupin kept shooting him and he met each one openly, knowing the man wanted to speak of Sirius now they were no longer occupied with planning, but allowing him time to frame his questions. Eventually, it came.

"Alf? May I ask? I thought ... well, Sirius told me you had died – years ago," said Lupin, as he wiped the last of his stew up with a piece of bread.

Alphard smiled ruefully. "I renounced my name." Lupin looked perplexed. Alphard settled down to explain the ritual although it pained him to repeat his belief in his nephew's guilt with painful hindsight.

Lupin turned to Snape. "Sirius used to talk of his Uncle Alphard all the time when we were young. I think you were the only one he ever spoke of without being angry," he said to Alphard. "Well, you and Andromeda. He always liked Andromeda, too."

Alphard smiled, trying to hide the sudden pang at the mention of his niece's name, especially as he heard Lupin's own sorrow. Here they were together – they should celebrate Sirius, Alphard thought. How often would they get to speak of him otherwise?

"You know, Remus," Alphard shifted, and began to smile, "Sirius was always a bit of a handful. I swear there must have been a Gryffindor dormant in our ancestry, and it re-awoke in Sirius!" He saw Lupin begin to smile, and Alphard felt that strange tangle of both pain and happiness to speak of his boy once more with someone who knew him.

"He was quite strong in his magic, even when he was young. Of course, my sister preened over that quite dreadfully until it seemed he really loved to annoy her. She used to think he was possessed by a malicious sprite. Oh, he answered back, said 'no' far too much and all the things that other children do, but which my sister was convinced pure-blood children did not! Did I encourage him?" Alphard smiled broadly now. "Of course, I did! As soon as possible, I brought both Sirius and Regulus toy brooms, although my sister loathed them playing in any manner that was unseemly." Alphard chuckled. "I taught them Exploding Snap and Gobstones, although all she wanted him to learn was chess and deportment." Alphard rolled his eyes. "At their age! I may not have helped engender the respect my sister and husband thought that they were due," he said with mock seriousness. "Certainly, Sirius considered it his duty to tear around the house at full pelt, and, when he was six, he managed to cast a freezing charm on the stairs and then slide down them on a tea-tray." He did a gliding motion with his hand that seemed to delight Lupin. Alphard nudged him conspiratorially. "Antique, of course. And the banisters were there purely to slide down as far as Sirius was concerned." The picture was clear in Alphard's head.

"Uncle! Uncle! Look at me! Wheeeee!" sang Sirius, as he swooped down the banister pell mell, as his small brother ran down the stairs at his side.

And then the witch's hand, her bony fingers like talons, grasping the boy unkindly as he landed at the foot of the staircase.

"There's always the attic room for bad boys, Sirius. Listen to your Uncle Alphard and that's where'll you'll be!" she hissed. "Just as he always was."

That memory suddenly stung. Alphard breathed deeply, and pushed it away.

"Did you ever see the funereal Black family china?" asked Alphard, as Lupin leaned forward, his face now open and smiling. Lupin nodded. "Bloody ghastly, wasn't it, with our crest on it, Toujour Pur," he sneered, "in – surprise, surprise – black and Slytherin green." Alphard snorted mildly. "When Sirius was seven – seven, mind you! – Walburga and Orion held a formal dinner for the Minister of Magic and some of his cronies – old Orion wanted to get in line for an Order of Merlin, you see. The grand dining table had been set, sumptuous in Victorian grandeur – by which I mean pompous and overblown, of course. When Sirius had charmed them, I don't know, but as we waited for the fish course, our fish plates appeared in front of us and the crest shimmered, there and then, in front of us all. Our motto shifted to Toujours Puke."

Lupin barked at laugh at the unexpected trick and it clearly tickled him because soon tears were rolling down his face in merriment, as he tried to stop laughing, but found he couldn't. Alphard smiled broadly too, although he recalled that Sirius had spent the night in the attic with the murderous ghoul that night, no matter how bitterly Alphard protested that it was no more than youthful high spirits.

"This is no house for youthful high spirits, brother. You should know that. I will not have hellions for children. This is the House of Black."

And yet, Sirius's spirit never seemed to break. The more he talked, the more memories came to mind and soon Lupin was joining in, telling Alphard about pranks that they had played at school, teachers, students – all had seemed fair game for his nephew's never-ending search for entertainment. It was nice to hear someone else's recollections, rather than dwelling on his own, the recollections of an old uncle.

At that moment, they heard singing. Just Conway at first, then joined by the other Whitby Werewolves. Rousing songs that encouraged more to sing. Other werewolves joined in and Angharad laughed with delight. The spell was broken and Alphard remembered Angharad and Snape once more who'd been deep in their own discussion.

"We should join them now, Alf," she said, "and leave these two alone." Alphard grinned – he wasn't too old to understand that.

"I'll be in at dawn," warned Alphard. "Rounds for the patients and to ready for battle." He nodded at an alcove full of potions and they both left, re-setting the charms behind them.

As they walked to the fire and sat themselves either side of Idris, Conway was leading the others in a riotous sea shanty:

Hoo-ray and up she rises, hoo-ray and up she rises

Hoo-ray and up she rises

Ear-ly in the morning

Hoist him up to the topsail yardarm, hoist him up to the topsail yardarm

Hoist him up to the topsail yardarm

Ear-ly in the morning

They whooped through the repeated phrases and all the verses, becoming more and more pronounced and dramatic, all seeming to loosen up in the release of song. Sea shanties were replaced by drinking songs and then marching songs, young and old joining in, even as the youngest cubs just watched their parents, trying to learn the words and tunes from them.

A good-natured lull followed, then Gwydion, a werewolf of only two years, stood and began to sing the Welsh hymn, in a deep bass voice that made Alphard's skin prickle with its depth and beauty.

Guide me, O thou great redeemer,

Pilgrim through this barren land;

I am weak, but thou art mighty,

Hold me with thy powerful hand;

The werewolves quickly picked it up, whether they believed in a deity of not. Alphard had seen many great churches and cathedrals in his travels across the continent, even heard their great choirs sing, because he was a man who adored beauty and tried to find it wherever he was. And here – here was as beautiful a sound as he had ever heard.

Bread of heaven, bread of heaven

Feed me till I want no more;

Feed me till I want no more

The hymn began to soar in the air with the strong werewolf voices, ringing and triumphant, as they reached the final verse and Alphard, who had never heard the pack sing quite like this before – like one of those great choirs, with strong voices and in perfect harmony, looked at the pack and saw that there were tears in the eyes of some of them, the singing speaking to something – perhaps cultural - before they were Turned. He didn't know, but the singing stirred him and he joined in as best he could, a resounding plea to Fate, or to a deity or the great ancient magic of this mountain, to deliver them from the evil that now stalked them.

When I tread the verge of Jordan,

Bid my anxious fears subside;

Death of death, and hell's destruction

Land me safe on Canaan's side:

Songs of praises, songs of praises,

I will ever give to thee;

I will ever give to thee.

The notes died away on the air, seeming to signal the end of the night. Idris called out to the pack to douse the fires and pack up, and they all made their way to the roundhouse, except those that took the watch on this - the eve of battle.

.

A/N: Thanks Danniperson - such a lovely review!

Citations:

"What Shall We Do With The Drunken Sailor" - traditional 19th c. sea shanty, anon.

"Guide Me, O Thou Great Redeemer"

Hymn - William Williams 1717-1791

Tune of Cwm Rhondda, by John Hughes, 1873-1932.
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