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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
- 16
- 17
- 18
Disclaimer: The Potterverse is owned by JKR.

Wandsong and Idris Lydiard and his Pack are all mine.

A/N: I'm so sorry for the hiatus. So much needed to be written for YWNKM before this chapter could be posted and Real Life has been difficult over the past month too.
I've split this chapter into two so the second part will be posted just before next for YWNKM this coming week.
Warning: M/M. Don't like, please don't read.

Chapter 17: Changes in the Air
Angharad looked beautiful to Alphard. Now well into her second trimester, she bloomed as he had seen no other pregnant woman bloom. He suspected the shared Claim might be manipulating his emotions to be so protective and loving of her, but he also knew he was as in love with his life amongst the Pack and his place as Angharad's brother as he was in love with Idris.
He had returned to the Pack after his disturbing visit with Tonks and Lupin, ever more grateful for the love he had found there, but the young couple's predicament worried him.
He didn't know Lupin well, but he had seen how in love he and Snape were. He didn't know Tonks at all, but to him she seemed sad, misguided and hell-bent on pursuing a one-sided relationship. How such a situation had come into being when she seemed attractive and successful, Alphard couldn't fathom. But his conscience nagged at him that he should get in touch with her again and try to help.
Just a few days later, a wolf Patronus found him in his brewing tent. At first, Alphard had thought it belonged to Lupin and yet there was something indistinct about it – as if it was one wolf form overlaid another. It opened its mouth and Nymphadora's breathlessly excited voice spoke.
"Uncle Alphard, Remus and I are to be married on Tuesday. It will be a small ceremony but please will you come? If you can, send me a message and I'll let you know the venue. I'd love you to be there with us."
The Patronus dissipated but Alphard continued to stare at the space it had occupied, feeling disquiet where he should have felt happiness.
Should he go? It felt very wrong to him. He had seen them and they behaved as no other couple he had ever known. Lupin had acted as if he were grief-stricken and confused, clearly medicated – what kind of bridegroom would he make? And the quiet ceremony – it felt so secretive. He wondered if Andy and Ted were invited … surely they would be.
He shook himself from his reverie and went back to his brewing, making a note to discuss it with Idris and Angharad that night.
Even as the three began to discuss what Alphard should do, Geraint and Gareth came with news of a family requesting refuge of the Alpha of the Snowdon Pack.
AB~IL~AB~IL~AB~IL~AB~IL~
The family was small: just the parents and one child. They had originally found their way to Hereward but he had sent them on to Idris with two escorts. At first, Idris was angry that Hereward, the Alpha of the oldest Pack in Britain, should send his problems on to him, but then it became clear from the escorts that all was not well in the Ancients of Dartmoor.
The Pack had been infiltrated by Dark werewolves sent by Greyback to try to undermine their neutrality. They had succeeded in sowing discord subtly and gradually and, after some months, they had challenged Hereward to be Alpha. They had lost the hand-to-hand combat but then they had summoned Dementors and, with them, came wizards of uncommon cruelty. There had been a battle but, unlike the Battle of Cadr Idris, the Ancients of Dartmoor had not had Remus Lupin to teach them to cast a Patronus. Only a few could do that and the outcome of the battle hadn't been nearly as decisive as the battle at Snowdon. There had been grievous losses and some of Hereward's most trusted Betas had sought to ally themselves with Greyback. It had divided the Pack. The Ancients of Dartmoor were now half the size and in disordered flux.
The escorts then told Idris the story of the family after he had asked Gareth to take the family to the roundhouse clearing to rest and share a meal. He watched his son introduce the family to Angharad, seeing the wife become friendly and animated at the sight of Angharad's pregnancy, even though the child pressed himself close to his father's leg.
It had been a terrible story to hear: Greyback had Turned them all on one full moon night. The father had been a senior official in the Department of Regulation of Magical Creatures and a outspoken critic of Riddle. He had given an interview to the paper claiming that the new Minister for Magic was Imperiused and had known, but had done nothing to prevent, the werewolf attacks on the magical populace.
Of course, the interview had not been published but retribution had been swift.
"All three?" murmured Alphard in horror as Idris told him the tale as they watched the family with Angharad.
"Aye." Idris found it difficult to talk as he watched the small boy, clearly still traumatised, refuse to disengage from his father. "They were held in dungeons. Riddle's followers watched – like a damned circus!" he snarled. "He said one was your niece – Bellatrix. He recognised her from Wanted posters."
Alphard felt his blood run cold. Always Bellatrix. Was there no end to her depravity?
"They made the parents watch as the child was bitten first. Then the wife. Finally," he pointed briefly to the father, "him. Took 'em to St. Mungo's newly bitten – they had no chance to try to hide what had happened."
"When?" Alphard found it difficult to speak. The barbarity of the premeditated mauling sickened him.
"Two months since. Comin' up their second moon. He lost his job. Can't afford Wolfsbane. Run out of Upper Flagley, even though he's lived there all his life. Not one of 'em would help him and his." Idris sighed, suddenly looking weary. "He knew of Hereward from his post at the Ministry. That's why he went there. Said there are men huntin' Muggle-borns fer bounty. Jus' like they're criminals. Call themselves Snatchers," growled Idris in disgust. He sat heavily, his hands resting on his knees as if his body was just too great a weight. "How can I turn them away? Where will they go? If'n we don't look after them, what if they have no choice but to turn Dark?"
Idris scraped his palm over his stubble and looked again at the family, now sitting with Angharad who had coaxed the boy to sit next to her and to drink from a cup she had given to him. The boy looked up at her with wide, frightened eyes. What terror must that boy have felt on his first change or meeting werewolves in a Pack? Idris knew. He remembered exactly.
/
Idris had climbed and climbed, the savage words of his father ringing in his ears, as sharp and painful as the jagged rocks that cut his hands as he scrambled up steep crags and edifices, driven on to find seclusion. He didn't think to ease his way with magic. The arduous physical labour of the climb kept his mind away from the grief of his father's rejection which threatened to drown him in sorrow even as his breath drew in deep rasps of physical exertion.
On he went until he gained the summit. It was bitterly cold. The wild winter snow storm whipped around him but his anguish was so great, he welcomed the way it stung his face, like miniature razor blades cutting his face and hands, echoing the cuts to his heart and soul.
To the great stone – the Chair of Idris – he staggered and crawled on top of it. 'Perhaps,' he thought, 'I will sleep and the cold will take my life.' He'd heard that could happen to travellers who got lost on the mountains: they would think they could hide from the biting cold, but their bodies could not keep the cold from invading their bones and gradually they would fall into a fateful sleep, never to wake.
'It would be a blessing,' thought Idris. He had nothing now: his father had physically thrown him from the farm, Alf could never love him – not now he was not even human! What if he grew to be a beast like Vargulf – an animal in bearing and in stench. Who could ever love him?
A huge sob broke from his throat – almost like the howl of a wolf itself and he curled up tighter, shivering violently all over, his frame hurting from the daggers of cold piercing him, even greater in the Turning Bite that throbbed sickeningly, and from the anguish that tore at his soul.
'Let the cold take me then. Let it be over.'
His eyelids grew heavy and snow was settling on his cold, cold body. Still, he didn't try to find shelter. He imagined his mother was with him, singing him a lullaby. In his own mind, he heard her clearly – a voice like liquid crystal - and he could smell lily of the valley. In his own mind, it was a memory, even though he had never known his mother, but still that clear voice sang so softly, just for him:
'Sleep, my babe, lie still and slumber,

All through the night.

Guardian angels God will lend thee,

All through the night.

Soft and drowsy hours are creeping,

Hill and vale in slumber sleeping,

Mother dear her watch is keeping,

All through the night.'
Idris didn't know how he knew the words. Perhaps Rosie had sung it to him when he was a babe in arms but he couldn't remember her singing with a voice like that. He was confused but calm. He wasn't cold any more as the voice seemed to wrap around him, resonating in his heart and mind and soothing his soul. It no longer mattered. Nothing mattered. He was safe with his mother as he drifted away listening to the song.
'God is here, you'll not be lonely,

All through the night.

'Tis not I who guards thee only,

All through the night.

Night's dark shades will soon be over,

Still my watchful care shall hover,

God with me His watch is keeping,

All through the night.'*
/
"Be careful, boy," a deep voice said. "Ye are too weak to get up yet."
Idris tried desperately to move but he was too tired. His whole body ached, his face felt raw and his eyelids so heavy. But he could feel he was on bedding and someone was tending him kindly. He tried to think where he might be, who he might be with, but all he could remember was the ethereal voice singing an old Welsh lullaby to him. He tried to speak but no sound came out but he managed to open his eyes.
"There now," said a kind-looking, fair woman, who smiled at him and brushed his hair from his face. "How do you feel?" She pressed her cool palm to his forehead. He wondered if she had any idea what kind of beast he was.
He inhaled deeply and closed his eyes at her kind touch and her scent hit the back of his throat. His eyes flew open. She was the same! He tried to pull away but he was too weak and only managed to scoot back into the pillow. He felt the flutter of panic rise. Had he been found by Vargulf? Was Riddle nearby – ready to torture him once more?
"Be easy, boy," that deep voice commanded. Idris's wide, frightened eyes flicked to the voice and Idris knew that this man too was a werewolf.
But this large, bearded man was not Vargulf, nor any werewolf like Vargulf commanded. This man looked human, and the way he looked at Idris was kind and concerned.
"Ye need not fear us, boy," he said, keeping his distance. "My name is Dai. We found thee on our mountain, near frozen to death. This is our home. It's safe here."
Their mountain? Their home?
Idris looked around himself. It was a large roundhouse. It looked ancient. A large stove fire sat in its centre with a huge pipe piercing the roof to take the smoke away. Rough makeshift beds and cots ranged along the walls. Guessing, Idris thought there must be over forty beds. The smell of werewolves was thick and overwhelming.
"My name's Idris," he rasped, his throat sore.
Dai looked surprised.
"Like our mountain?" he enquired gently.
"Named for it," offered Idris, then he looked at his own hands and saw they were swathed in wrappings. "By my da," he finished quietly, suppressing the hitch in his voice.
There was a silence for a while and he knew the two werewolves were watching him. This time, the woman spoke.
"I'm Eleri," she said, and sat next to Idris's feet. "I came here when I was twenty-one, after I was Turned. Took me a few moons to find my way here. Heard in the city there was a place for people like us. Been here ever since. Over twenty years ago." She smiled at him encouragingly and then nodded at his Turning Bite on his shoulder. "That's recent, isn't it?"
Idris nodded miserably. Eleri Summoned a clay beaker from the side of Idris's bedding and passed it to him. It contained beef and vegetable broth and smelt wonderful.
"Drink this slowly now."
Idris drank carefully, savouring the flavour and the warmth that spread through his chest and down to his stomach as he drank.
"Does your da know?" asked Eleri. Idris forgot the flavour of the broth as he felt his heartache return.
"He drove me out," Idris whispered and would not look at them. "Said I was a monster." His voice broke and he snapped his mouth shut. He was fifteen – he shouldn't cry in front of strangers. He looked deeply into the beaker.
"Aye," said Dai softly. "We've all been called that. And there's some that are monsters." Dai sat on a rough cot next to the one on which Idris sat. "Reckon the one that did that was a monster."
Idris wondered briefly whether he should lie about his story but decided against it. These people had taken him in. Saved his life – although he wasn't sure just then if that had been a favour.
"His name is Vargulf," began Idris and saw Dai's eyes narrow in recognition.
"As foul a monster as there ever was," Dai said. "What misfortune took you across his path?"
"He was told to do it," replied Idris, simply.
"Deliberately?" gasped Eleri. Idris nodded. Then he told them his story – the story of the boy from the farm below who could hear Wandsong and a young Dark wizard called Tom Riddle who wanted a wandmaker for a werewolf army. He did not tell them of Alf and his vile family: his memories of Alf were too precious to share.
"Tis quite a gift to hear the song of wood, Idris," said Dai. "If you'd like, abide with us. Not all have wands and if'n ye are willin', them who don't would be grateful for wands. If not … we'll not force thee. But, ye're young 'n' strong and if willin' to work, there's plenty to be done to earn your keep."
"What if Vargulf comes looking for me? You'll be in danger," protested Idris, looking from one of his rescuers to another.
"He can look, but he'll not find thee," said Dai. "This encampment is many hundreds of years old. It has been the refuge of our kind for generations. And - if you become Pack - he'd have to get through me and my Betas and then all your kin of the Pack."
The large man bristled like a bear and his protective statement made Idris feel a little less bleak. Could he really find protection here?
"The protective spells around this place are as old and impenetrable as those of Hogwarts," said Eleri, who laughed lightly as Idris looked surprised at her reference. "Oh yes, I went to Hogwarts! A lifetime ago." She took the beaker from Idris and placed her wand in Idris's bandaged hands.
Covered though his hands were, he still felt the resonances through the bindings and he lifted her wand to his ear.
A good wand; a Light wand; a wand of integrity: work spells and healing enchantments – nothing Dark at all. A small smile formed on his lips for the first time in an age as he listened to the song of the wand.
"Laurel and Unicorn hair," he said and then passed the wand carefully back to Eleri, feeling a small amount of relief relaxing his bones. Perhaps, he would be safe after all. She passed him back the broth with a gentle smile.
"Have ye seen a moon since?" asked Dai, nodding towards the Bite. Idris felt a chill pass through his body. He had not even thought of the change that would make him a ravening monster – but he knew it was soon.
Idris's eyes turned to him, glittering with fear. He shook his head. Dai's expression softened with understanding.
"Ye don't need to be on your own, son. Stay with us. We run on the mountain, away from folk."
/
Dai was the leader of this Pack – the Alpha, they called it. Eleri was Dai's mate. They had been kind to Idris: Eleri had cared for him, healing his cold-chapped skin and the frost bite he had in his hands. They didn't have much in the way of healing potions but she had simple, effective salves and ointments and her healing spells were very good. As she worked, Dai had told him something about the way they lived and the codes they lived by. Theirs was a simple existence – "Almost like we're lost in time," Dai had said. They laboured on local farms and those who were educated found temporary jobs in the villages. They had a small amount of land which they cultivated for crops. They got by and they were left alone by the local people.
"Sometimes, that is the greatest boon of all," Eleri had told Idris as she took him to the clearing to meet the other members of the Pack. "Just not to be called a monster and left to live a life." The sadness in her eyes told Idris that she had suffered that indignity and remembered it well and this remote life had been her refuge and haven.
"We live the best we can, Idris. We hurt no-one and all we ask is not to be hurt in return."
/
It was the day of the full moon.
Idris felt aches deep within his bones and joints, such terrible discomfort without being pain. His head pounded and his eyes were sore. Even his skin felt raw, as if the first layer had been stripped from him. He had had a terrible fever once when he was a child and it felt very similar to that.
As he looked around the roundhouse this morning, everyone looked pale and unwell. Some spoke unkindly to each other, but most were just withdrawn and wan.
Dai came to him and sat down.
"This is how we feel every full moon," he said, bringing Idris a beaker of spring water. "The moon draws our strength. Our bodies feel her pull to change."
"Will it hurt?" breathed Idris.
Dai nodded and Idris felt the sickness of renewed fear rising in him.
"Aye. Like you've never known. But it'll be brief," he reached out and ruffled Idris's hair, "and you're young and will heal quickly. Remember, Idris – ye mustn't fight the change. The more ye fight, the more pain there'll be." Dai stood then, telling Idris to follow outside when he felt ready.
Idris didn't feel hungry for food but he craved something – a hunger that was not about food as something else – he couldn't define it. He caught himself scenting the air as if there were some strange aroma he could almost taste …
As the day wore on, he began to pace. He realised he paced like a caged animal. He could see the others were like this too. Was this the beast within him stirring? Were colours really dimmer? Were smells so much more pungent and rounded? Was his hearing really so much sharper and his discernment of those sounds so sharp? His senses were assailed with new sensations but the thing he became more and more aware of – the thing he wanted – needed – craved …
Hunger. A hunger that couldn't be sated. A hunger that gnawed at his mind as well as his stomach. Nothing around this camp fire could feed him. He became consumed by it, pacing and flexing his tense shoulders, unable to clear his mind.
Then the air seemed to shift around him and his mind suddenly cleared and he realised he was surrounded. The other werewolves had now all gathered in the clearing. Not one of them was dressed. The part of him that was a teenaged boy felt a flicker of embarrassment but the other part of him – that Other he already knew now shared his being – knew the change was in the air.
A tired looking Eleri held his shoulder gently.
"Leave your clothes or they'll be ruined," she said quietly. Idris nodded and undressed, rolling his clothes around his wand and pouch, suddenly feeling no inhibition at all as he placed the bundle away from the assembly.
He returned to Eleri, hoping she didn't mind that he sought her out. She smiled at him softly and nodded. He started to return the smile but at that moment he felt his bones bow and seemingly stretch. It was pain that swiftly became agony.
'Don't fight it! Don't –' but the thought was wiped from his mind as a savage pain tore up his spine and he screamed as his body began to shake and he felt his joints dislocate violently and his jaw snapped loose –
- he groaned hoarsely as he tried to wake. There was earth in his mouth. And blood. Some was his own and some … animal blood. He tried to spit it out as he tried to hoist himself up on his hands. A pain shot through his arm and shoulder and he slumped back as he cried out.
"It's all right, Idris. I've got you."
Careful hands held him.
It was Eleri.
"Stay still. Episkey!" He felt the healing spell take hold of bones in his arm and knit them. "Let me just check you, dear," she said and he felt her quickly check both his arms and legs. A quick spell knit some damage in his ankle and then another to one of his ribs. Then a warm cloth wiped his face and dabbed his eyes. She helped him to sit up and he managed to open his eyes at last. She was dirty and looked exhausted, but the expression in her eyes was warm.
"There now," she said. "Not too badly hurt for all that. There are some bruises and cuts, but I've got the worst now. How do you feel?"
Idris felt terrible, he couldn't deny it. He ached all over, feeling every one of his bruises, as Eleri helped him to his feet and wrapped an old blanket around him.
"You'll get used to it, I promise," she said as she led him back to his bedding and helped him to lie down.
"It's morning?" he rasped. "I don't remember the night at all."
"No, love. You never will."
Idris had wanted to ask more, but his body was exhausted and sleep overtook him before he could ask anything else. But as he drifted away, he wondered what would have happened to him if he had been alone.
/
If one could call anything of what had happened to Idris fortunate, in that way at least, he had been lucky. The Pack had found him just days before his first transformation and had taken him in. He had never had to suffer alone.
This little family had been together but had had no-one to help to ease their way. And the child was so young. Idris looked at the child's haunted face once more.
Remus Lupin had been a young child, Idris remembered. Idris thought perhaps if Alphard went to the wedding, he could ask Remus Lupin of a way to help the boy. But then he thought again of the Snatchers who roamed far and wide, looking for bounty. Imagine the bounty to be had for Alphard Black, the blood-traitor brother of Walburga Black.
No. There would have to be another way.
"It gets more and more dangerous out there, Alf," he said, resting a proprietorial hand on Alphard's shoulder. Alphard nodded. "I can't let you go."
"What?" Alphard turned quickly to regard Idris. He had not expected that.
"I can't let you go to your family. You heard what he said. If Riddle finds out you live … no. I won't take that chance. I can't."
Part of Alphard wanted to argue but he couldn't deny that the story of the Ford family had horrified him. Riddle and his followers still used loved ones to terrorise those who opposed them. If he fell into their hands, Alphard couldn't comprehend the torture they would put Idris through. Hadn't Idris suffered enough through him?
AB~IL~AB~IL~AB~IL~AB~IL~
Tecwyn and the gang of labourers stood before Idris, shamed as if they themselves had done something to lose their jobs. Idris placed a consoling hand on Tecwyn's shoulder, his mouth set in a grim line.
"Every one of you?" Idris asked, his voice low and all the more resonant for it.
Tecwyn nodded.
"Every one."
"But Farmer Jones is a Muggle. And so is Farmer Price. How can they know of the werewolf restrictions?"
"Said they'd be visited by plain clothes police – did they know we were registered offenders? Don't know what that means to Muggles, but they wanted us gone and right quickly." Tecwyn looked ashamed but also angry. It was clear to Idris that they'd been run off the farms they'd been labouring on without incident for years.
"Death Eaters?" asked Alphard. "Masquerading as Muggle police?" He found that difficult to believe. Perhaps they had other adherents doing their bidding. Were these imposters these Snatchers?
"I reckon so."
Idris sent them on to their own fields to work with what little they had. They would convene a meeting tonight to try to work on other ways to bring in food. Idris knew Riddle was behind this. Perhaps he wanted to starve the Pack out. Previously, they could have made do with such as they had – but now – with the Pack so extended – over one hundred and twenty werewolves! Now, it would be impossible. His stomach lurched with sickness.
"This will hit us hard. We don't grow enough to fend for ourselves." Idris's mighty fists clenched in impotent anger. "How do we get the meat we need? Steal it? Like mangy foxes?" he seethed.
Alphard and Angharad followed him back into Alphard's tent.
"I can help, Idris," Alphard began. "Buy meat and -"
"No. We've talked of this afore. We won't take your money."
"Why not?" demanded Alphard. "What else would you have me do with it? Wouldn't I rather it bought the Pack supplies than sat in Gringotts earning interest? Idris – please!"
"No, Alf!" Idris stormed. "The Pack stands alone. We won't rely on a wizard's charity!"
"I'm not just a wizard, Idris! I'm your mate! Whatever's mine is yours anyway."
"NO! We make our own way in the world. We provide for ourselves. If'n we don't – we're no better than … than livestock!"
Alphard gaped in shock.
"How can you say that to me? How can you think that of me?"
"It's not about you, Alf! It's about the Pack. They need to work for themselves! Need to feed themselves. Not be beggars, vagabonds or thieves! Not be what wizards claim we are! D'ye not understand that?"
"Yes, I understand!" Alphard was breathing hard in frustration. "But times are going to become harder as Riddle tightens his grip. Let me help!" he pleaded.
"No! And that's my last word!"
Idris stormed from the tent, leaving Alphard staring after him in shocked silence.
Angharad patted Alphard's hand and smiled sadly.
"Let me speak to him. Don't worry now," she said kindly as she left to follow.
Alphard watched Angharad walk after Idris, catching his arm which he shook away crossly – so unlike how Idris normally behaved with his wife.
Alphard closed his eyes and sat at his desk, his hands steepled over his nose in thought.
It had taken a great deal for Idris to allow Alphard to set up his infirmary and potions store, knowing that most of the ingredients for the medications he and Angharad made were bought with Alphard's money. Alphard had only been able to convince Idris because there was no way the werewolves of Snowdon could have procured ingredients such as those Alphard used from their meagre resources. It just would not have been possible.
But this particular bone of contention: food, seemed almost insurmountable. One could only conjure so much food from a small amount – such conjury could never be infinite. If Idris and the Pack could not produce their own food, Idris considered himself a failure as Alpha.
It didn't matter what Alphard said, he could not convince Idris that use of the Black fortune amassed by both nefarious ventures and legal investments, culminating with those of Alphard's grandfather, Cygnus Black, could not be put to better use than to assist those pushed to the outskirts of the Wizarding world.
AB~IL~AB~IL~AB~IL~AB~IL~
Angharad sat with Roberta Ford as they went through the provisions book together.
Roberta's husband, Charles, and Bobby, their son, were quite withdrawn. Angharad understood. Charles had been a Ministry official; not only that, but one who had previously overseen werewolves as part of his remit.
When they had first arrived, Angharad could smell not only the fear and mistrust on the man, but also the self-loathing. Whether the loathing was because he had become what he used to regulate, or because he had brought this calamity on his family, Angharad did not know, but he made her uncomfortable. He hadn't sought out any company and avoided all those who tried to make him welcome. His fear of Idris was only exceeded by his terror of Stacy, having seen him transform without warning.
However, Roberta had latched onto Angharad from the outset, asking to be set to work, to do anything to earn their keep. She turned out to be proficient with all manner of household charms, especially with food and hygiene, and she set to work with a will assisting those werewolves whose job it was to try to extend their meagre provisions.
The summer months at least yielded plenty of fast cropping salad vegetables but they had no wheat for bread and little meat. Some of the more skilled amongst them could catch fish with spells but they weren't storing the food that they needed for the winter and Angharad was also troubled. However, Roberta showed them preservation charms to dry and smoke the fish and small amounts of meat in early preparation for the long winter ahead. It was by no means perfect: they were werewolves and liked their meat to be fresh and bloody, but it was better than having no meat at all.
Young Bobby never strayed far from one or other of his parents. The look of pain haunted his eyes, and that look haunted Idris in turn, but more because he saw the father snatch his son away even from the other young children who tried to entice the boy to play with them.
"He never speaks to anyone," Angharad complained to Idris as the three sat in Alphard's tent. "He complains about this place." She indicated Alphard's tent. "Says it isn't right that there's a wizard who's treated better than him."
"If he were alone, I'd put him out," growled Idris. "It's only for his wife and child I let him stay."
"I tried to talk to him but -" sighed Alphard and then shook his head. The last time he had tried, Charles had drawn back from him in horror.
"What kind of a man are you?" he had snarled. "You don't have to be here with these stinking beasts. Why are you?"
Alphard had been shocked by the man's naked aggression and had not tried to converse with him again but, like Idris, refrained from hexing him for the sake of the man's family. But, at the last moon, it was Angharad, not Alphard, who Charles had allowed to heal his injuries.
"A werewolf like that – hates himself and all around him … he's a danger to himself and us."
"What can we do?" asked Angharad. "Roberta and Bobby love him and at least she is beginning to settle in. What would happen to them if we sent them away?"
"Ieuan and Medwyn will keep an eye on him," said Idris with finality. "But if he becomes a danger … his family will have to make a choice."
AB~IL~AB~IL~AB~IL~AB~IL~
It was Botolph and Conway who brought the news of Snatchers operating around the local villages.
"And I'm sure," said Conway, his Irish accent all the stronger in his agitation, "that one is that wizard we had captive here before the battle – the one that came with the message."
"Scabior?" recalled Alphard, his head jerking up from his paperwork.
"Yeah! Him! I'm sure it was him, and another four I don't know."
Idris's jaw set. He didn't think it was coincidence that the same wizard was in the Snowdon area. Perhaps, Riddle thought Scabior might be able to gain admittance to the camp. There was little chance of that. Idris had already strengthened the wards of the encampment with the news which Snape had relayed to Alphard that spring. Still, it wouldn't hurt to re-work them to be all the stronger. Anyone who was not Pack would be shredded by these wards. Now, more than ever, they needed the strongest protection he could give them.
AB~IL~AB~IL~AB~IL~AB~IL~
Idris and his Betas had worked through the night strengthening the protective enchantments. Alphard had taught Idris others he had learnt over many years. Alphard couldn't cast them himself: he was only Idris's mate. The enchantments could only be re-laid by those with the authority of the Pack.
Now, he sat with a late breakfast, talking with his two mates about the spells he had performed when a silver wolf Patronus bounded into the tent. Idris stood as recognised it immediately.
"Idris of the Snowdon Pack from Remus Lupin. I ask an audience with you on urgent business."
Idris stared as the silvery form gradually dissipated before his narrowing eyes.
What did he think of this? A Patronus could not be forged, so it was definitely Remus Lupin, but Alphard had said the man had seemed ill and disorientated when he had seen him last. Could he be trusted? Was this a ruse to gain admittance to the Pack and destroy them?
"What's the matter?" asked Alphard quickly, seeing the grim expression on Idris's face. "You'll let him come, surely? I thought … I thought we'd discussed this … I thought …"
"We discussed Seth Moore," said Idris abruptly. "I trust you both on that." He indicated Alphard and Angharad, but then he shook his head. "But Remus Lupin … he married into your family, Alf – married to a Black – daughter of a woman who despises me and my kind -"
"- and one who married a Muggle-born! And has a Metamorphagus for a daughter -" intejected Alphard.
"- who despises her own daughter!" Idris cut across Alphard. "You told me so! And a werewolf who seemed drugged and unsure of himself – who couldn't find his mate! How do we know he can be trusted, Alf? How do we know he hasn't been enchanted to work against us? You heard what Hereward said … trust no-one!"
The two men now faced each other, each as stubborn as the other and Angharad looked between the two, but her heart told her Lupin would never let them down – no matter what. She placed a gentle hand on Idris's arm.
"And if we on the Light mistrust each other … then what? How will we survive?" Angharad reasoned.
Alphard took a deep breath and then approached Idris cautiously. "We saw what the two of them went through for each other – for us! To keep this Pack out of the clutches of Greyback! To keep you out of the clutches of Riddle!" Alphard shook his head. "I don't believe all that was a sham, Idris. I talked to Remus. He was my nephew's friend. He could have turned Dark years ago and had an easier life if he had."
Idris stood away from them and stood at the entrance of the tent, thinking.
"Everything has become so dangerous," he said. He watched Charles Ford cutting wood on his own, his face set in resentment. Then he watched Stacy in his wolf form playing with some of the children. Even Bobby stood to the side, watching the playfulness with an expression of longing.
"Come away from that, Bobby!" Idris heard the child's father order and Idris bridled with annoyance.
He left his mates and made his rounds amongst the members of the Pack, men, women and children – all under his care and protection. He spoke to every single one throughout the day as they set about their tasks or as the children played or learned their lessons. It was late by the time he made his way back to Alphard's tent.
He had promised Dumbledore his Pack would a beacon for Light werewolves – a place of safety away from the entrapments of Darkness espoused by Greyback and his type. Now, it felt like there was danger inside the camp, and there were wolves in sheep's clothing seeking to harm all that was his.
"Dumbledore!" he announced as he faced his mates. "D'ye remember what he told us? He said he was pleased Remus Lupin and Seth Moore found allies in us and that there were hard times ahead for them. And he left that phial!"
Alphard quickly turned to his desk and undid the many Locking Charms he had placed on the drawer which contained the ornate crystal phial. Angharad peered at the phial. They had told her of it, but she had not seen it before.
"I don't have a Pensieve," muttered Alphard as he held the phial up to the light. "But I can get one if I …"
"No," said Idris quickly. "He said there was a conditional charm. There would be a time when events would activate it." He stared at the phial. "A testament, he said." He turned to Alphard and Angharad in turn. "I believe it was a testament for these two men – but not yet – not yet." Idris's voice tailed off as he recalled that last meeting with their former Transfiguration professor. He had found out Alphard lived and had brought them together after all these years. He had been the owner of the Elder Wand, and he had tamed it. He had entrusted this testament to them. They owed him a geas to be allies to these two men – Dumbledore had asked for it and Idris resolved to fulfil that geas.
Idris Conjured his Patronus and spoke the words for Lupin:
"Ye may come, Remus Lupin. Do not breach the wards but call me out to meet you."
AB~IL~AB~IL~AB~IL~AB~IL~
Remus Lupin had stood patiently a couple of feet from where he knew the entrance to the encampment was. Idris watched him for a short while. He thought he looked older than when he had seen him last. Strange for a man so young to show his age so keenly.
Idris passed through the enchantment.
"Remus Lupin," he growled. "Come!"
With that invitation, the wards would now admit him and Lupin followed Idris through, even as Geraint and Gareth, and Idris's Betas waited, wands drawn, lest there be any duplicity.
Lupin gave Idris a bewildered smile.
"I only come to talk, and to ask for help if you can give it," he said. "My allegiances have not changed since you last saw me."
"Aye, but the world has changed, Remus Lupin," said Idris, but nodded to stand down his men and led Lupin to Alphard's tent in silence.

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* 'Ar Hyd y Nos' – 'All through the night' - traditional 17th century Welsh folk song, English translation.
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