Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Fragmented Soul	By : StrawberryGirl87 & Bickymonster Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Fenrir Views: 79703 -:- Recommendations : 3 -:- Currently Reading : 10
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or anything in the fandom. no money/profit is made.

Chapter List
- 2
- 3
- 4
Chapter Three – Time has passed
Time moved forward and the wizarding world grieved for their fallen hero, he had brought about the downfall of the Dark Lord when he was only eighteen months old and then had been killed at his hands at the young age of eleven. Even though He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named had failed in his attempt to return it had brought about old fears that it might just one day happen. However now there was no boy-who-lived to prevent it from happening. In fact the only one left alive that Voldemort feared was Albus Dumbledore, a frail old man who was currently held up at Hogwarts scheming and planning. No one knew what it was that he was doing and no one much cared either. With the death of a first year student two years in a row under his care, faith in him was beginning to crumble.
The loss of Neville had hit him hard and the lie that he had told the wizarding world that all Potter’s, including baby Harry, had all been killed that Halloween night was truly backfiring on him now. He had never expected for the chosen one to be so callously reckless with his own life and to die when he was only eleven years of age. Now he either had to find proof that Harry really was dead or to track him down and force him to do what was necessary in order to protect the wizarding world just in case Tom found a way to return.
Finding the proof he needed that the boy was indeed dead, or else tracking down the boy, would be difficult, seeing as he could recruit no one to help him and he had no idea where to start. It might take years but he was nothing if not determined. Without Longbottom at his disposal he needed someone who could take Neville’s place.

Harry Prince meanwhile turned twelve and carried on with his magical education at home under the tutelage of Severus Prince. Thanks to his father’s dedication and resounding patience Harry thrived and his magical ability soared to that of a Hogwarts fifth year at the very least if not further. Severus was hugely dedicated to his son’s magical education, he was bright and capable especially when he put his mind to it.
His friendship with the Clayton boy only became stronger. The two of them were the best of friends and it lightened Severus’ heart to see his son form a close bond with another, something he had always failed at as a child himself unless you counted Lily, who had been his only companion growing up. He was immensely proud of his son, there was no questioning that. He was growing into a handsome and charming young man, even at the age of twelve this was evident. However Severus was still mistrusting of the Danes’ family and kept a watchful eye on them just in case they figured out who he and Harry really were.
It had happened on three occasions previously. On every occasion, where they had had to leave, it was because the lightning bolt scar upon Harry’s forehead had been seen. Questions had been raised; difficult ones that Severus couldn’t answer. It was clearly a mark left by dark and dangerous magic. He had had to erase memories and leave town quickly so that their secret wouldn’t be discovered. Now Harry’s long black hair draped across his fore head and prevented the dreaded scar from being seen.

Harry was more than happy to conceal it, he hated the damn thing. He hated too that his father had no explanation as to how it had come to be there, at least not one that he had been willing to give. Harry put it down to the only other thing about himself that his dad refused to tell him about; his Werewolf curse. He assumed that the scar had something to do with how he had come to be infected and didn’t ask questions about it because he knew how much it upset his father.
Tragic news reached the Prince household via the Daily Prophet nearing the summer and Harry’s thirteenth birthday. Severus had been keeping an eye on the goings on at Hogwarts School for the entire year. It had been on the verge of closing all year due to the attacks on muggleborns. There was a lot of speculation, of course, but Severus knew the history of the school well and he could tell that whatever was happening had something to do with Voldemort; it was something he was sure of.
When the Daily Prophet announced that a young, eleven year old girl had died, a pureblood, Severus was shocked. Dumbledore himself had issued a statement, regarding the death of Ginerva Weasley to be a horrific tragedy. What was more devastating was the fact that her body was yet to be discovered. A message left in blood had stated her body would lie in the chamber forever. What was even more concerning for Severus however was the fact that the person who killed her was none other than Voldemort himself and he was back.
How he had managed it no one knew. He had strolled casually out of a girl’s bathroom at Hogwarts according to witnesses, a snake, gargantuan in size and seemingly under his control following in his wake. Many people had died that day for every time someone had looked into the eyes of the huge serpent they would die instantly.
Only Dumbledore had recognized him to begin with because he was not the terrifying monster that he had become at the height of his power; he was a young, handsome and charismatic Tom Riddle aged only sixteen years old, the same Riddle that had gone to Hogwarts. Albus had been quick to stress that despite the change in appearance that Voldemort was still as dark and as dangerous as he had ever been. He had walked out of Hogwarts and so far no sightings of him had been reported but the Ministry of Magic was on high alert. Severus had felt his dark mark burn mere hours after he had read the news of Voldemort’s return but he had ignored it and simply strengthened the wards around his and Harry’s home.
War had begun that fact was undeniable. Tom Riddle had returned and was stronger than ever, his body restored to its younger self. It was terrifying to think that the world was about to be dragged into another war, just like the previous one. It would only be a matter of time until his most loyal and terrifying deatheaters that had been sent to Azkaban were released. He would not attempt to take power again until he had them by his side once more. Severus looked at Harry who was almost thirteen years old and was probably the only hope that the wizarding world had to defeat the Dark Lord now that he had come back. However there was no way that he would ever let his son have any involvement in this. He was still only a child, innocent and as long as Severus could keep him carefree then he would do just that.
FGHP
Clayton had stolen Damon’s copy of the wizarding newspaper, a publication that the two young teens weren’t usually permitted to have a copy of let alone read anything from. Damon and Severus had both agreed that they didn’t want their young son’s to be exposed to the horrors currently going on in the wizarding world. However the sneaky young werewolf had snuck into his father’s study and stolen it, just so that they could see what all the fuss was about. He and Harry had then headed for the park and sat underneath a large oak with the paper spread out between the two of them. The article about Ginny Weasley’s death taking over the two page spread that they had opened the paper on and their eyes scanning over the print.
“I’d love to go to Hogwarts, I think it would be amazing to be in that castle, surrounded by other magical kids,” Clayton said. He knew of course that it would never happen, he was a pack werewolf and they took care of each other without relying on anyone else, especially not wizards who held a prejudice against them as a species.
Clayton had scented instantly the same thing about Harry too when they had first met, though he had suspected as much when his Alpha had told him to befriend the boy. Whoever Harry was to Fenrir the Alpha wanted the boy in the pack as well and he was special enough that he warranted the protection of two pack wolves. He had thought that Harry would figure out quickly what he was in return but his friend never seemed to make the realisation that they were both werewolves.
They never spoke about anything like that, they didn’t even speak about magic very much. Neither of their fathers allowed them to take their wands out when they left the house so it was a moot point anyway. Both Damon and Severus were very strict on this matter. Neither of the two boys were permitted to do any magic outside of the house just in case they were seen. As the only two wizarding families in an area teeming with muggles they had to be extra careful not to be seen using magic. It was because they lived in a muggle village that both Clay and Harry could understand why this rule had been put in place and they didn’t argue against it, much; however as thirteen year old boys, both with the capability of powerful magic it was frustrating that they weren’t permitted to use it outside of their homes.
“Apart from all the death,” Harry joked, “The paper says it’s the second death of a first year within two years. They’re thinking that the headmaster has gone a little deranged in his old age according to this. Apparently he’s some famous wizard but I’ve never heard of him, have you?” Clayton shrugged his shoulders as he read the name Albus Dumbledore and shook his head.
Harry turned his attention to look at the picture of the smiling girl, who had been the second victim. He could see that she had a beautiful face, pale skin that was dusted with freckles and bright red hair. He would have liked to have known her, she at least looked nice. He studied the picture fondly thinking that maybe they could have been friends if he had gone to Hogwarts, according to the article she had a brother his age along with five others. The second photo backed this up, showing a large group of red heads; all nine of them smiling and waving happily, one of the younger boys holding a rat.
Harry had never much appreciated the female form, it had never interested him. Clayton was the ladies’ man out of the two of them, he would ogle at them as they walked past, admiring their breasts and their curves but never daring to talk to them. Harry just didn’t see the appeal. There had been a young man who was at least four years older and very handsome, who had worked in the local store whom he had found attractive, though he had never voiced this to his best friend. He much preferred to just agree with Clay’s comments and keep his thoughts about the matter to himself. He hadn’t even told his dad how he felt.
“Oh yeah but I still think it would be awesome,” Clay responded, “All that magic everywhere, being able to practice it whenever we felt like it. We’d have so much fun and just imagine the pranks we could pull on the other students.”
“Yeah, Dad can see my pranks coming a mile off, they never work anymore,” Harry said grumpily, “Who do you reckon this Dark Lord character is? Supposedly dark and dangerous, he can’t be all that bad.” Harry had read the name within the article, though he had never heard of it before now, it intrigued him. An odd memory niggling at the back of his mind as if he ought to remember something but the harder he tried the further away it seemed to get. There was something about a lot of green light but that was all he could recall.
“I don’t know,” Clay said as he scanned the article again, “Apparently there was this horrific war fourteen years ago. Something happened and he fell from power but now he’s back,” Clayton said with a shrug of his shoulders, seemingly uninterested as Harry read over the bit that his friend had mentioned. “That’s all Dad has ever told me about it, I’ve tried to get more out of him but he won’t budge. I’m fascinated about the whole thing really but it’s almost as if he doesn’t want to remember it, like it’s too painful.”
“Dad won’t tell me anything about the past either,” Harry said but caught himself when he realised he was walking down a dangerous path. He had always been forbidden from talking about the past and especially not to anyone other than his father. Harry didn’t want to have to leave here and leave Clayton behind when he was so happy. He very quickly changed the subject to something a little less intense and entirely less inflammatory as well. “Want to come over to my place? We can go flying.”
Clayton’s face lit up, nodding enthusiastically, “Hell yeah,” he said with a huge grin. Both of them loved to fly. Harry, for his birthday, had been given a firebolt, the best broom currently on the market. Even though Clay only had a nimbus 2001 they were both equally fantastic fliers. Severus had had to heighten the wards around their home to allow for the two boys and their insistence on flying higher than should ever have been permitted while in a muggle area. They had both been severely warned about what would happen if they were almost seen again which was why they were extra careful when it came to flying now. Ever since they had come close to being seen by some muggles in a little hang glider plane they had promised to stay within the wards.
Standing up and ensuring that the magical newspaper had been folded and tucked neatly and unnoticeably beneath Clayton’s jumper the two of them took off towards Harry’s home, excited at the prospect of being able to fly as it was their favourite past time. They were both overly keen to get on their brooms. It was the weekend and they had been given the time off from their lessons with their fathers and they intended to make the most of it by having as much fun as possible.
Harry loved to fly more than anything else in the world, he figured that that was why his animagus was a falcon. That was something he could explain away with ease however he had never figured out why it was that his patronus was a stag. When he had first produced the stag he’d asked his Dad why it was that his patronus took that form, expecting to hear a simple answer, but instead his father had gone strangely quiet and not said a word. He had instead left the room without saying a word. Harry had distinctly heard him crying in his bedroom later that evening and decided never to mention it again. He didn’t like to hear his father crying. The stag being his patronus was yet another thing that went unexplained about his life. The things that remained somewhat mysterious were becoming more numerous but Harry didn’t dare to question it and risk upsetting his Dad.

FGHP
Over the next few months Severus kept a close eye on the goings on at Hogwarts and in the rest of the wizarding world. He could recognize Voldemort’s handiwork a mile off. He knew when the Ministry had fallen even though there had been no obvious outward signs that it had happened and the general public remained oblivious. Severus however had been around him and his followers the first time that he had tried to take power that wasn’t his and he strongly suspected that the Minister for Magic, one Cornelius Fudge, was under the imperius curse. The laws and restrictions that were being passed were unfairly biased against those who were anything less than half-bloods.
One name that Severus was glad not to see in the papers was one Fenrir Greyback. He was still missing, a list of people that included himself and the Werewolf had been produced by the Ministry in an attempt to find those that had deserted since the last war. Curiously the name Harry Potter had also been on the list. This was how Severus had known that it was actually Voldemort behind the list of missing persons and not the Ministry or the Order. Dumbledore wouldn’t have wanted the knowledge of his failure so obviously displayed and besides Tom and the headmaster there was no one else, apart from Severus, that knew Harry to be alive and well. The fact that Harry’s name appeared on that list did not bode well, it meant that people were going to start to question if he had really died or not. Severus didn’t want anyone to know that Harry was alive and well, he didn’t want his son to be used as a weapon in the war. They were going to have to be even more careful than ever now.
FGHP
The mass breakout of high security Azkaban prisoners had happened in August; a few months after Tom Riddle had returned. The likes of Bellatrix Lestrange were back on the streets. Now that these dangerous witches and wizards were back at large the wizarding world was becoming a dangerous place to reside. Muggleborns were starting to turn up dead. Fear was escalating fast and it seemed that there was very little that anyone could do. They were living in dark and difficult times, that was for certain. Severus however made sure that Harry remained oblivious to it all, preserving his childhood as best as he could. It was a childhood filled with laughter and sometimes literally magic but it was void of the horrors of what was happening in the rest of the world. Their village and happy lifestyle remained untouched and tranquil.
Harry had a best friend and the two of them were inseparable. and on occasion insufferable when they were together. However the important thing was that he was happy. They were both safe and nothing would be able to touch them here, not with the wards and protective charms that Severus had erected around them. Magically they couldn’t be tracked or located; not even Riddle with his damn unique way of tracking anyone with the dark mark branded on their skin would be able to get to them here. Severus didn’t want to risk moving again, not now and not when Harry was so settled and so content.
The young teenager had even learnt to deal with his Lycanthropy better. He took himself to his silver barred cage every night that the moon was full, just as the sun was beginning to set. He took his potion daily without question despite its questionable taste and as a result the transformations into his wolf form were painless and the animal he became was almost completely tame and very docile. Severus always loved his son’s wolf form now that he had grown accustomed to it. His thick coat of fur the same jet black as his hair and his eyes a more startling shade of emerald than even in his human form.
It was rare that a werewolf would have an animagus form as well but Harry had enough power that he had managed it and before he had even turned twelve. The boy had such extraordinary power that it sometimes scared Severus. Before Harry’s thirteenth birthday he had started to train him to apparate too. He knew that one day their secret would be revealed and he wanted his son to be able to have all the knowledge and the ability he needed to be able to escape the war, and defend himself if that is what it came to.
Severus knew that he would be a prime target for both Voldemort and Dumbledore after what he had done, he held no delusions on that front, if they were ever discovered then he wasn’t going to live long enough to be able to further protect his son. He knew all too well that by taking Harry that night in Godrics Hollow he had likely assured his own death sentence and yet he had no regrets at all; except perhaps what had happened at Malfoy Manor but even that they had adjusted to, so that it wasn’t quite the curse it was supposed to be, just an inconvenience.
Severus was content whether or not he lost his life because of the decision that he had made, he knew that it was worth it. It had been worth it when the Longbottom boy had died because Snape was all too aware that that could have been Harry. It didn’t bear thinking about; that his little boy, the one whom he had raised from infancy could have died before he had even see his twelfth birthday. He knew that no matter what the cost was to him, it had been the right thing to take the boy. Now that there had been another death, another child only a year younger than Harry, it fortified his opinion that no matter what it cost him in the future the price wouldn’t be too high because he had kept Lily’s son alive and out of danger.
FGHP
The two young boys charged into the living room of Harry’s house with the aim of heading out the back to grab their broomsticks, it was early September and the summer weather was still desperately clinging on and the two of them intended to make the most of it. However Harry stopped when he saw that a strange owl was perched on one of the brown leather armchairs. On the coffee table was a wicker basket with an envelope attached.
“I should run this to Dad, he might need it for his potions today,” Harry said. Severus didn’t like to be disturbed when he was brewing. He ran a mail order service for any kind of potions anyone would ever need to anywhere in the world and it kept them very comfortable for money. At least Harry had never gone without anything. However Harry knew that his dad probably needed whatever was in the basket and thought that it was probably worth the risk. “Will you grab the owl treats for me, Clay, I’ll run this through and then we can fly.”
Clay nodded and went to fetch the owl treats from the kitchen. Harry went to pick up the basket however he heard a hissing sound coming from within. He withdrew from it slightly, crouching down to peer through the small gaps in the wicker. Within he could just about see the bright green scales of a small snake. Harry grinned, he loved animals but Severus could never abide having them in the house for longer than was necessary for getting whatever he needed from them for his potions.
“Hello there,” he said into the basket, grinning as he watched through the gap as the small green snake uncoiled itself and began to move slowly around its sealed basket.
“Hello,” came the hissed reply and Harry nearly fell over backwards when he heard the snake talk back to him, something that he hadn’t been expecting.
“You can understand me?” Harry asked in astonishment.
“Of course, you talk snake,” the creature replied as if it were bored and Harry supposed that it was, after all it had been in this basket for however long. “Not many wizards I meet can talk to us.”
“I’m honoured,” Harry hissed back, peering in through the small gaps trying to get a better look at the magnificent creature.
“You have a talent,” the snake responded as it raised its nose to where Harry was looking into its confined space.
“Where did you come from little one?” Harry asked, however the snake’s response was lost in the shout that came from Clayton as he came back into the room.
“Blimey Harry, I didn’t know you could speak parseltongue!” he exclaimed wide eyed in amazement. Harry just looked to him as if he were mad. Just behind him his dad was looking equally bewildered and a little worried.
“Dad?” Harry questioned, “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing, never mind, you boys go flying or whatever it is you wanted to do this afternoon,” Severus said in a calm tone that Harry knew all too well. Severus was on the verge of either getting very angry or really upset. Either way Harry knew that he was very close to the danger zone. Clay too had taken note of this and the two of them ran for the back door without uttering another word.
Once far enough from the house Harry turned to his best friend with fear in his emerald eyes. “What the hell happened?” he asked Clayton who still looked as if he had seen a ghost.
“You were talking to that snake!” Clayton said.
“Yeah, so?” Harry asked, not understanding what it meant, why his friend was looking at him as if he were a freak nor why his father had reacted the way that he had.
“You were talking in another language, almost like you were hissing,” Clayton elaborated and now it was Harry’s turn to gape in shock.
“No I wasn’t,” he said, in denial.
“Yeah, you were,” Clayton said, “Whatever you were saying it was seriously weird!”
“I was really talking another language?” Harry asked and Clay nodded, “I didn’t even know. Do you think that many other wizards can … you know … talk to snakes?” Even as harry asked this he thought of how his Dad had reacted and he highly doubted it.
“I don’t know of any but then I don’t know many other witches or wizards,” Clayton said with a shrug as they headed for the broom shed. Harry following after his friend, his shoulders slumped as he thought about this, unsure of how he felt about having such an odd ability that he hadn’t even known about. It was yet another thing to add to the lengthening list of the unexpliained.
FGHP
There was a stranger in their territory. With only himself and Callie here Fenrir was not best pleased about this, in fact he was damn near furious. The fact that it was at least two other werewolves that had dared to breach his territory had not improved his mood at all. Their scent was unfamiliar to him; they were not wolves he had crossed paths with before.
The pack he had built had been in this territory for over a year now and their scent must have been thick through their marked area of forest. If there were other wolves here then they either had a death wish or wanted to fight for the territory. Fenrir would happily kill them either way and then he would skin them, displaying their hides as a warning to anyone else who dared even think that they might stake a claim here.
It was Callie who spotted the two unwelcome wolves first. He was a young man with thick red hair that stood up all over the place and deep brown eyes. He was shirtless with worn, ripped jeans and bare feet as he strode confidently into the clearing and carrying a young girl in his arms she was seemingly unconscious and bleeding. Callie reckoned that she couldn’t have been more than eleven or twelve given her size. She called out to her Alpha who immediately came running at the sound of her cries. Callie took up a defensive stance against the two intruders, growling violently in warning.
It was nearing the end of October, the nights were beginning to get cold and they had lit a fire to keep them warm in the centre of the clearing, which was where Callie had been sat when the unwelcome guests had come across them. Fenrir bounded over to them from where he had been chopping firewood a few metres away, fully prepared to kill the intruder without question for trespassing within his territory. However the young man who was nothing more than a stranger to them lay the young girl down close to the fire so that she would be warm before lowering his head to the Alpha wolf, keeping his eyes on the ground, submitting to him willingly without a fight.
Fenrir stopped, watching carefully the shirtless and barefoot young man, whose torso was stained with blood from the girl he had been carrying. Keeping his eyes on the floor and never looking at the Alpha wolf directly he tilted his head slightly upwards and bore his vulnerable throat. Fenrir stood tall, pinning the other werewolf down with his gaze, asserting his dominance.
“Who are you?” Fenrir growled viciously, ready to attack and to kill if he didn’t like what he heard. His pack was split and it was weak with only four members to it but that didn’t matter, he would protect Callie with whatever it took. He wasn’t going to lose another pack before he had even had a chance to finish making themselves comfortable in their own territory.
“Jenson,” was the brisk and rather formal reply, he kept his gaze on the ground, not having any desire to challenge the Alpha wolf for his pack or his territory, seeking only sanctuary from what he had escaped from. Jenson had never had the drive to be an alpha. He was perfectly content to be within a pack as long as he wasn’t the omega, which with his knowledge and strength he never would be. He was an asset and he knew it but he wasn’t cocky with this information and was more than willing to prove himself.
“Why are you here?” Fenrir bit out, still glaring down at the wolf who had so easily submitted to him, something that he didn’t quite trust. The dominant werewolf would forever be unsure of others, his past ensured that. However his uncertainty and need to protect what was his, which included Callie as she was a part of his pack, was being over shadowed with another part of his wolf brain that looked at Jenson, and saw a strong, able bodied young man, who would make an excellent addition to the pack.
“My former pack aligned themselves with the dark wizard known as Tom Riddle or Lord Voldemort as he prefers to be known. They were torturing this poor child and I couldn’t abide by the cruelty of it so I took her and I left,” Jenson informed them keeping his answers factual and precise, giving the Alpha the information he needed to know but no more than that. The past few hours had been horrific. When he had tried to leave the pack, those that he had counted as his friends and even family had violently turned on him. He was lucky that he was so fast and had managed to escape without serious injury. The young girl however had not been so fortunate. Jenson just hoped that she would survive, she reminded him of a sister that he had had that had died as a young girl. He felt very protective of her.
“You seek another pack?” Fenrir questioned and was answered by a stiff nod. He could see the advantages of adding further wolves; the winter was fast approaching and they would need the numbers for warmth and for hunting the larger game to add to their cave where the food was stored over the winter months to save them from starving, especially when the snow began to fall. However he was wary of these two and unsure of whether he wanted the burden of a sickly young girl on his shoulders. “Was she bitten?” Fenrir grunted motioning towards the girl.
“Yes, Alpha, several times by many werewolves” Jenson said and clearly this answer pleased Fenrir greatly because he nodded his head slowly, appreciating the acknowledgement of his superiority. If the girl had been bitten as much as Jenson claimed and was still alive then she could be strong enough. It was a slim hope but there was still a chance.
“Why should I allow you here?” Fenrir asked, his eyes narrowed in suspicion. He didn’t trust outsiders and especially not those from other packs. It concerned him that they had sided with Voldemort. He had experience when it came to that particular dark wizard and it wasn’t something he wanted to repeat. That had been a dark time in his life and he had no intention of going back and being in servitude to him again.
“I’m a good fighter, I won’t cause any trouble and I’ll pull my weight within the pack. If you don’t want us here that is fine and we’ll leave but please help the girl first. My former pack abducted her, tortured, raped and bit her, she may not live from her injuries, she may not even survive her first change but if you force us from here without aid then she won’t even have a chance,” Jenson said, his tone was forceful and determined and yet he kept his eyes down, not wanting to meet the Alpha’s heavy gaze. He had no desire to make a challenge for the top position, he didn’t even want for it to be a thought on any of their minds.
Fenrir glared at the trespasser, suddenly pouncing upon him, his clawed hand grasping at the vulnerable throat of the shirtless man who presented it to him without hesitation or even a flicker of fear. Jenson was aware that he needed to keep himself in a submissive pose if he stood any chance of being accepted into this pack or to even survive this encounter. The alpha growled viciously, making his presence as the dominant wolf known and fully enforced. He bore his teeth in a snarl, his grip tightening so that he was almost choking Jenson, cutting off his air supply. Fenrir wouldn’t tolerate disloyalty within his pack and he needed to ensure that if he was going to give this wolf a chance then he needed to be clear who was in charge.
“Very well, you may stay for the time being but you’ll earn your keep and work hard or you won’t be here long,” Fenrir warned with a harsh bark before turning to his other pack member, the only other pack member within their territory currently. “Callie, tend to the girl,” he instructed and immediately she did as she had been instructed. Fenrir wasn’t in the habit of trusting people without question, especially ones that just strolled into his territory but they were short on numbers and they could use the muscle. For this reason only, he was willing to give Jenson a chance to prove himself, especially with the winter months swiftly closing in on them.
The Alpha watched with a keen and over-protective eye as Callie began to tend to the small girls wounds, most of them were bite marks though some looked questionable, as if she had been punched or kicked too hard and her small frame just couldn’t cope with the strain. It was doubtful that the tiny creature would survive past her first transformation but Jenson had done an admirable thing by leaving his pack to try and save her. Fenrir could appreciate actions such as that and knew that he would make a good addition to the Pack if he could prove himself to be worthy of it.
“Do you know her name?” Callie asked as she pulled her own light brown hair back into a pony tail so that that it wouldn’t get in the way or become matted in the child’s blood, which was plentiful, though a lot of it was no longer fresh.

“Romy,” Jenson replied, he had knelt down beside the two of them, clearly concerned over the fate of the young girl, which was certainly endearing, especially to Callie who found it very difficult to keep her attention on the child and not stare openly at the bare chested man who crouched so close to her. She could feel his warmth radiating from his body despite the chilly temperatures and was very aware of the fact he was half way to being completely naked.
“How old is she, do you know?” Callie asked trying to distract herself from the very attractive man as she began to inspect all of the bite marks that were already starting to heal over, they had at least stopped bleeding, the accelerated healing known in werewolves already kicking in. There was no denying that she was strong, a fighter.
“She’s only twelve,” Jenson responded as he helped in any way that he could. Fenrir watched the two of them as they interacted over the twelve year old Romy, smiling faintly at them. He could clearly see that they would get on well. If the girl survived she would only be a year younger than Clayton and Harry. He would be able to cope with having yet another pup in the Pack. She would be another one that he could train to hunt, to fight and protect them.
The addition of Jenson and even Romy could be considered as a good thing however the news that had come with them was worrying. If what Jenson had said was true then the damned dark wizard was back and it seemed that he had other werewolves in league with him. Fenrir knew that they were protected here and wouldn’t be found easily, if at all. He had faith in the wards that they had erected and the safety they had within their territory. Unless someone literally wandered in, like what Jenson and Romy had done, then there would be no discovering them.
FGHP
Dumbledore looked upon the deranged man before him with a forced expression of sympathy on his face. Sirius Black had escaped the confines of Azkaban during the mass breakout of prisoners that Voldemort had arranged as he had taken over the prison. Black had slipped out amongst the Deatheaters in his animagus form with a clear goal but the headmaster could see that he was a shadow of his former self after years of being locked up with the dementors; unstable and probably unpredictable.
“I saw Peter …” the mad man rambled.
From what Dumbledore could figure out, Sirius had seen a picture in the wizarding newspaper that showed Peter Pettigrew to be alive and well, living in his animagus form as a rat with none other than the Weasley family. It had been the article about their youngest child’s death that had alerted Black that his former childhood friend was still alive. The headmaster had listened as Sirius had told him every detail of the rather fanciful story, including how he had finally committed the murder that he had been imprisoned in Azkaban for all those years ago.
“I killed him,” Sirius stated bluntly, seemingly almost proud of himself, as if he were a child that had said its first word or taken its first step. However he quickly started to tremble with the acknowledgement and looking guilty once more. “What have I done …?” he mumbled to himself pitifully.
Sirius Black couldn’t stop fidgeting and shifting restlessly as he sat in Dumbledore’s office; his hands trembling. The room was reminding him too vividly of his cell in Azkaban prison, it didn’t matter that there was a miniature version of a Christmas tree in the corner or that mistletoe and tinsel adorned the walls, he didn’t like the closed door. He didn’t like to be in confined spaces, he needed to be outside in the fresh air and enjoying his freedom after all these years. Albus however had other ideas.
One thing Dumbledore knew for sure and that was the fact that upon being hit with the killing curse the rat, known as Scabbers, had reverted back into the man who Sirius had proclaimed him to be; much to the alarm and distress of the Weasley’s youngest son, Ron, who had been holding the rat at the time. Dumbledore almost felt sorry for the family who seemed to have been curse with terrible misfortune, but at least the boy had not been hurt, and he had to admit that it was convenient for him to suddenly have Black back and on his side. The headmaster could see great use for him. This was why he was keeping the man cooped up in his office, he needed something from him and he was waiting for the arrival of one other before he could divulge what that was.
“I have something that I need to tell you, Sirius,” Dumbledore began solemnly, considering his words with great care and consideration; it wouldn’t do to have Sirius becoming anymore twitchy than he was obviously already was. This was not something that the headmaster had ever told to anyone else and it was a wrench telling this convict of a man too however he had had very little luck in tracking Harry down and he could now at least admit that he needed help.
Albus was more than aware of the worsening state of the wizarding world now that Tom was back. He knew that Fudge had fallen foul of one of Riddle’s followers and now no longer in his right mind. The headmaster knew that he needed to speed up the process in regards to finding the missing boy and if telling another was what was needed then so be it. “However there is one other that needs to be told and I don’t like to repeat myself.”
Sirius nodded. He was not feeling right. He had spent so long shifting between his animagus and human form to keep himself sane from the dementors that he didn’t know what persona he felt more comfortable in anymore. His skin itched uncomfortably in his clothes. He had just killed a man too. He wasn’t sure exactly how he felt about that. That man had been his friend and yet he had betrayed them all. Sirius had been imprisoned for years on the charge of murder but had been an innocent man, until now. He knew that he was guilty and he felt every ounce of that guilt weighing down upon him. He now deserved to be in Azkaban for what he had done, though he wasn’t sure that he regretted it in the slightest, which only made him more sure that he needed to be back in that awful prison. After all Peter had been the reason that his friends and their son, his Godson was dead. To feel no regret but to also feel guilty over the same action was akin to the feeling of being torn apart inside. It made him entirely uncomfortable in his own body.
Sirius Black didn’t know how to react when the door to the headmasters office opened and in walked Remus Lupin. His old school friend and occasional lover, a werewolf and the reason he had learnt how to transform into a great big black dog. Remus stopped in his tracks upon seeing his former partner. He had not seen Sirius since before James, Lily and Harry had been murdered and he hadn’t expected to see him sat in the headmasters office in Hogwarts looking forlorn and unhappy.
“Sirius …?” Remus asked to be sure, certain that his eyes would be deceiving him. He had of course been told that Sirius Black had been imprisoned for murder but he couldn’t believe it, it was the reason he had delayed his return to the United Kingdom, until Albus had summoned him back somewhat urgently.
“Remy?” Sirius queried as he stood up and for a moment he seemed unsure of whether to move towards or away from his old friend.
“Siri,” Remus said with a breath of relief as the two men embraced one another in a crushing hug.
It was a heart-warming display for sure but the headmaster had no time for sentimentality. However he was as patient as he could be with the two men, he needed something from them and most of all he needed them on his side. If allowing them a moment to reacquaint themselves would get them in a good enough mood to help him then so be it, it was a bout of sentimentality that he could cope with.
Albus knew that the two of them had once been lovers, a long time ago of course. They had amicably broken the relationship off when Lupin had gone in search of his answers. Sirius couldn’t go with him, he was needed at home to help with the war effort and with the impending arrival of Harry. It had been easier to put their relationship on hold and then the resulting years had been harsh on both of them, preventing them rekindling the old flame. Now however there was nothing to stop them, nothing but a meddling old man who had a bombshell of life changing news to bestow upon them.
What Albus didn’t know was the true reason why Remus had had to leave in search of answers. Not even Sirius knew all the details, he had been delivered the same excuse as everyone else about the werewolf’s reasons for disappearing. The horror of what Remus had done to such a young child had been horrific, he had needed to go in search of answers, he wanted to find a cure. He wanted to be able to live a normal life without the constant fear of losing his temper and hurting those that he loved.
“Now that you are both here,” the headmaster said as the two men settled themselves before him in comfortable armchairs; Sirius shuffling his chair closer to Remus’ as though he feared them being separated again. “There is something that I need to tell you both.”
Sirius and Remus waited with baited breath as the Headmaster took a deep breath and began to explain. “I have not been entirely truthful with you gentlemen and I must ask you to forgive an old man who was only trying to make the most out of a bad situation,” he began slowly. Albus could feel the weight of their gazes on him, questioning him, wondering what he was going on about. “The world was led to believe that Neville Longbottom was the child to bring about the downfall of Lord Voldemort. However that was a lie, it was in fact Harry that should have been our hero and not Neville.”
“What do you mean a lie, how could Harry be a hero, he died?” Sirius asked, his eyes narrowing with suspicion and distrust, “I thought that Peter told Bellatrix where the Potter’s were hiding and she went to kill them and Voldemort went to the Longbottom house.”
“That is what I wanted the world to believe. Tom Riddle was the one who killed Lily and James and it was Peter who told him where they were. You were justified in killing Pettigrew Sirius, it was him who betrayed your friends.”
“What about Harry?” Remus asked, he had picked up on the fact that the headmaster had said that Voldemort had killed Lily and James but he hadn’t mentioned Harry. The werewolf knew that this had been purposeful, he was a lot more accustomed to the headmaster’s games than Sirius was.
“When Hagrid went to retrieve Harry from Godrics Hollow he was gone,” Dumbledore said sadly, he made sure he kept his tone sober and regretful, he needed them on his side. “There was no trace of him anywhere in the house. Lily and James’ bodies were found exactly where the killing curse had struck them down, however there was no sign that Harry had ever been there dead or alive.”
“Are you saying that Harry could be alive?” Remus asked in shock as this new piece of information sunk in. Lily and James’ son could still be alive.
“I believe that he is indeed alive, something I kept to myself only to protect him from those that might seek to harm him,” Dumbledore said, “However I am not sure who took him.”
“How could you have lied about something like that?!” Sirius roared in anger, “You told us all that Harry had died along with Lily and James!”
“I believed that he might have been dead for a long time,” the headmaster told them, “And I feared that if he was not that looking for him would only place his life in greater danger. Now though it is essential that we find him.”
Remus nodded his understanding but Sirius looked positively livid, Dumbledore was worried about what he might do but at this point he had no other choice, other than a memory charm, than to plough on. He did need their help after all and that wasn’t something they could give him if he obliviated their memories.
“I have been attempting to track him since Neville died. The magic I’ve been using is scrambled and a little weak, he is surrounded by wards making it impossible to magically track him to a precise location. The magical signature however is very much like his would be.”
“You lied to us; you told us Harry died,” Sirius repeated.
“I believed it to be so,” Dumbledore lied, “It should have been impossible for him to have survived, Voldemort after all did attempt to kill the boy, it is my belief that he went so far as to fire a killing curse at him, which hit him but rebounded. I have my theories about why but none of them concrete as of yet and I am not willing to share them. However I do know that it would have left a scar upon his body, wherever the spell touched him. It would make the boy instantly recognizable,” Dumbledore told them firmly but still remaining calm.
It was clear that Sirius was still silently seething at this news, shocked that he had been told that his Godson wasn’t dead as he had originally thought. If he had known that Harry was indeed alive and just needed to be found then he might have broken out of Azkaban sooner. The poor child had been taken away from his parents before he had even had a chance to know them, snatched from his life when he was nothing more than an innocent baby. Who knew what kind of life he had been living for the last few years or even who that life had been with? Sirius couldn’t help but think of his Godson held captive, just like he had been and he wanted to take revenge.
Remus on the other hand sat in silent contemplation. His mind whirring with the possibilities of what it meant to have a part of James and Lily living on. It had never felt real that they were dead, his best friends and their little baby, a child he had never met and never wanted to meet, at least not until he had found the answers he had so desperately craved. He hadn’t wanted to risk infecting the child with his curse.
“I assume you have a reason why you brought us here,” Remus said, his voice calm and steady. He reached over to Sirius, gripping his hand tightly. Neither was sure who this was intended to calm more but both took comfort in the contact they could finally share again.
“I have told no one else. It cannot be known that Neville was a decoy and that there is another boy out there that can fulfil the role of the boy-who-lived and defeat Tom. There would be outrage if this became public knowledge. I have told the two of you because I am hoping as old friends of Lily and James that the two of you would be able to help me in tracking their son. He needs us, but magic will be of no help in this instance, whoever has him in their care has warded their home too well, not even I can break through them. However I can tell you he is in England. That much I am certain.”
“Why us?” Remus asked sceptically. He loved Sirius, they had been lovers for years and the best of friends for longer than that. He wouldn’t hear a bad word said against the man he loved but the man he loved had been in Azkaban and his stay in the wizarding prison had clearly had an adverse effect on his mind. Remus wasn’t entirely sure that it was a fantastic idea to set Sirius on a path to find a thirteen year old teenager who probably had no idea who he was or where he came from.
“Because I believe that the two of you have the best hope of finding him. I don’t expect for you to bring him back, just to find him. You need not talk to him at all but I implore you to at least find him so that we might know that he is safe and in no danger from the person who took him,” Dumbledore said, he prided himself on being a master at manipulation. He would use these two dim halfwits that were so full of love for each other and their fallen friends to find the boy. Once they had successfully managed this then he would reel the boy in and use him the same way that he had used Neville. He could only hope that Harry had more sense and more power because otherwise the wizarding world was doomed.
FGHP
June 1994 and Tom Riddle, having failed to take control of Hogwarts from Albus Dumbledore had set his sights abroad and claimed Durmstrang Institute of Magic as his own. Severus had read this in the Prophet, startled. He was surprised that Dumbledore had been able to withstand the onslaught from Riddle and managed to keep control of his precious school. He presumed that this was now also the headquarters of the Order, if such an organisation still existed.
“You look like you have the world on your shoulders,” Damon said as he walked into the kitchen of the Prince household through the back door, Clayton running past both the adults up to Harry’s room with only a casual call of hello over his shoulder to Severus. The Dane’s were always welcome in their house and vice versa, knocking was past them now, only a locked door would signal that they were not to be disturbed.
Severus grinned at the small whirlwind that was Clayton Danes’ as he dashed past; at fifteen he was taller than average, his dark brown hair a mass of bouncing curls atop his head. The potions master had grown rather fond of the two of them over the years that they had known them.
“Did you read the Prophet this morning?” Severus asked once he was sure that Clayton was out of earshot. This was signalled by Harry’s joyous shout and his bedroom door slamming rather loudly closed. Neither of the older men wanted to know what their sons were doing that required the door to be closed, they just figured that they didn’t want to know.
“I did,” Damon responded solemnly. The large muscle bound man didn’t look a day over twenty-five and yet he was ten years older than that. His dark brown hair a similar shade to that of his son’s but straight and worn loose down to his chin. The steely grey eyes were so unlike the warm brown of Clayton’s but the bond between the two was so wonderful to behold that Severus had never thought to question whether or not they were truly father and son.
“It’s spreading fast,” Severus commented. “I worry about our boys in this.”
“It won’t touch us here, not for a long while but you’re right, the war that is coming could be bad for everyone.”
“Would you go back to America again?” Severus asked curiously. Damon had taken Clayton there just as the first war had started so that they could escape it, or so Damon had told him.
“And split up the two of them?” Damon asked with an amused grin on his ruggedly handsome face as he motioned to the ceiling with a tilt of his head, “I doubt I would ever be forgiven.”
“You would stay here and risk them being dragged into this war just to keep the two of them together when they are only friends?” Severus asked dubiously, raising an amused eyebrow.
“Only friends, you say that like they aren’t the centre of each other’s worlds right now. We have taught them well and they have good heads on their shoulders, especially considering that they are only fifteen,” Damon said, “Or will be by the end of next month,” He added as an afterthought remembering that Harry’s fifteenth birthday was still forthcoming.
Snape gave a small sigh and nodded, conceding that Damon had a point though not wanting to give it vocal acceptance. Realising that he would get no more of a response from Severus on the matter Damon ploughed on, far too accustomed to his friend’s non-talkative ways. “Perhaps it won’t get as bad as the last war,” he said with vague hope.
“I think the last war will be a fond memory by comparison with what is coming toward us now,” Severus responded.
“I’m still traumatized from the last one and I wasn’t even in the country,” Damon said sounding weary. He didn’t like lying to Severus, they were friends and had been for four years now. However he had told him the lie about living in America for the first eleven years of Clayton’s life when they had first met and he couldn’t change that now.
“Aren’t we all,” Severus replied somewhat cryptically. He was unwilling to go into the details of just how traumatized he was, with everything that he had lost and everything that he had done, he just didn’t have the strength nor was he willing to share it. He may have liked Damon Danes, even trusted him to some extent but not with that, not with anything important.
Before Damon could respond a loud crash coming from above their heads had them both wincing, “Merlin what was that?” Damon asked giving Severus a concerned look. Severus just looked tired. Loud, unexplained crashes were not an uncommon occurrence in the Prince household. In fact they weren’t too uncommon in the Danes’ household either, which was why neither of the two grown men had gone rushing to see what the problem was.
“I suppose we had better go and check that they haven’t blown up part of the house,” Severus said with an exasperated sigh.
“Yes, I’m not sure the neighbours would appreciate that happening again; the last time they had part of your wall on their roof,” Damon replied as the two of them trailed wearily up the stairs to check on their teenage sons.
Upon reaching the top of the stairs the two older wizards were very concerned to hear a lot of laughing and giggling going on from within Harry’s bedroom. They shared a worried look as Severus turned the handle and opened the door.
The sight that met their eyes was at least not one of half the walls missing. Rather the two boys had built a rather impressive fort out of cushions, blankets and the most important element, magic. It was not like a regular fort, oh no, Harry and Clayton could never do anything simple like that. The monstrosity they had created appeared to have several floors to it, with windows and apparently a draw bridge as well.
As they entered the disordered bedroom a small head with a mass of messy jet black hair popped up from the third level of the impressive magical fort, grinning madly, mischief glinting in the brilliantly green eyes. “Hi Dad,” Harry said, stifling a giggle, something that worried the older two … they couldn’t see Clayton.
“ATTACK!” a familiar voice roared from within the pillow castle and the two older wizards barely had time to duck out of the way as jets of coloured bubbles flew towards them from the younger two’s wands. One of them, bright purple in colour, popped against Damon’s hand and turned his skin the exact same hideous shade. Severus had been more fortunate, or so he had thought as he had managed to dive out of the room and hidden himself but he couldn’t help but snigger at the sight of Damon suddenly purple.
Damon however just laughed, “Love the hair, Sev,” he said laughing. The potions master then caught sight of himself in the hallway mirror and groaned. His hair was now a sickly lime green. “You have to give them points for creativity,” Damon said as hysterical laughter echoed from within Harry’s room.
“Indeed,” Severus responded sourly, however he could see the funny side of the situation. “Perhaps we should show the little devils exactly who they are messing with,” Severus suggested as he withdrew his wand. Damon nodded, grinning with glee as he too took out his wand.
FGHP
Fenrir was pleased. It had been just about a year since Jenson had strolled in through their territory with Romy in his arms and both were doing well. They had assimilated into the pack nicely. Jenson particularly was a wonderful addition with added muscle and his eagerness to do the bidding of the Alpha. Not only this but over the time that he had been here he and Callie had formulated a bond between them which had ended in them mating. They had all survived their first winter together as a group of four in their territory and were swiftly approaching their second now that the October evenings grew steadily darker and colder.

Their mutual love and affection for the pup Romy had started it off and they continued to take care of the girl as if she were their own. They wouldn’t have their own pups for a while yet, not until the safety of the territory was assured. Also with the wizarding world becoming increasingly more hostile it wasn’t worth the risk to have one member of the pack pregnant or with young pups if for whatever reason they had to leave their territory unexpectedly. Romy was the closest thing they had for the moment and they doted over her, which Fenrir was more than happy to allow as it made the two of them happy and they were teaching the pup what she needed to know to survive and to protect herself.

It was Romy’s shrill scream that alerted the rest of the pack to a problem. It was early in the morning and the young girl had gone down up to the cave to fetch some meat for breakfast while the men gathered some wood and Callie got the fire started. Romy was accustomed to doing little jobs like this within the territory where it was supposed to be safe; she liked to pull her weight with the pack seeing as they had essentially saved her life.
With the sound of her screaming echoing throughout the territory however, everyone was instantly on alert, charging in the direction that she had taken to the cave, Fenrir in the lead, Callie and Jenson following closely behind. All of them were desperate to protect the youngest and weakest member of the pack from danger.
It was in moments such as this one that Fenrir hated that his Pack was split. They weren’t as feeble now that Jenson and Romy had been added to their numbers but they still weren’t as strong as they would be if they had all been together. He knew that it was worth it so that Harry was protected but he was eager for them all to be back in the territory and safe so that they would be a stronger pack unit.
Reaching Romy where she was cowering behind a large tree, almost physically shaking in shock, she pointed to the mouth of the cave that they used to store their cache of food that they hunted as well as all their supplies. At the opening was a man, however he didn’t appear to be a threat at all, at least not anymore.
He had collapsed in a heap, blood around his mouth where it seemed he had been gorging himself on the meat within their store. He appeared to be badly injured if not close to death but he was at least breathing and had managed the strength to feast upon their food before collapsing which was a good sign if they wanted him to survive. It was clear from his scent that he was one of them, there was no denying that. No pack member dared to say it but the wolf clearly had guts to sneak into claimed territory and steal food, either that or he was just plain stupid.
Whatever had happened to this werewolf he wouldn’t survive if they just left him, refusing him aid. Fenrir sighed, he didn’t relish the idea of taking in another werewolf that was on the verge of death, it had been a risk the first time around when Jenson had brought Romy into their clearing. However she had been worth the risk and the drop in their supplies because now she was strong and a valuable pack member who contributed to the day to day running of their home. This young man was older and just like Jenson would be strong and able fighter should he recover. Fenrir played the odds over in his mind, their numbers were not vast, six werewolves not including Harry and two of them were pups.
He could see that another fully grown adult male wolf would only strengthen them however he knew that if this new wolf survived and refused to join them he would have to be killed as he knew where their territory was now. Fenrir wouldn’t risk his pack by taking reckless risks like leaving alive those that knew where they were. Killing him after using valuable supplies to heal him would be a waste but they needed numbers and Fenrir decided that they would have to take the chance.
“Jenson, take Romy and check the boundaries of the territory, if whatever did this is still close by we need to know but whatever you do, don’t approach, keep your distance. I don’t want anyone else hurt.” The Alpha barked out, he didn’t like sending Romy to scout the boundaries with Jenson but he needed Callie with him, she was the only one with medical knowledge and he wouldn’t leave her and Romy with the stranger in case he posed a danger to them. Equally he couldn’t send Jenson on his own just in case whatever had hurt this Werewolf was still out there.
Fenrir approached the injured wolf with caution, prepared for an attack but it never came as the light haired man remained unconscious. Scooping him up with care so not to aggravate the injuries he already had. Fenrir motioned for Callie to lead the way towards their clearing where hopefully the fire would have already taken hold. Jenson and Romy had already left to scout the boundaries of the territory as they had been instructed. They didn’t question his decision only following the orders that he gave.
It was three days before the strange new wolf regained consciousness. It had taken a lot of medicine and magic to heal his injuries, which Callie had discovered came from wizards. Some of the spells that had been used on him were specifically engineered to do harm to werewolves and ensure that their accelerated healing power was no use. When Callie had relayed this information to Fenrir after the Alpha had enquired after the patient he had gone into a rather foul mood. It was a widely known fact that Fenrir had a strong dislike of wizards and their prejudices but no one really knew why this was.
Fenrir had been watching the injured wolf for days, waiting for him to come round, which meant the second the man awoke he was with him. He needed to ensure that this new wolf knew the hierarchy, knew who was Alpha and that he wouldn’t be easily challenged for the position. He stood back as Callie checked him over, pinning the startled wolf with his gaze.
“Where am I? What happened?” he asked, his voice weak as he tried to sit up, Callie however kept him down. He still wasn’t at full strength and his wounds were healing slower than they ought to have done.
“We found you,” Callie said, her voice soft as she checked him over, her wand making complicated swishing motions that Fenrir could make no sense over. He only ever used magic now to erect the wards. He had never been the most adapt student of the magical arts and that hadn’t changed in adult hood.
“We were hoping you could tell us the rest,” Fenrir grunted. “Starting with your name.” He kept his tone harsh and his gaze fierce, asserting his dominance.
“Micha,” the wolf said before wincing as Callie prodded the wrong part of him sending shooting pain through his abdomen.
“What happened to you?” Fenrir demanded with a growl, circling the younger man, ensuring that his gaze never left him. Micha was no threat and didn’t even need to make much movement to submit as he was already lying on the ground, his belly and throat exposed. Combined with his injuries he was no threat to the Alpha, at least not yet.
“Deatheater recruitment, I refused them and they didn’t take that well,” Micha managed. Fenrir’s eyes narrowed with anger, a warning growl erupting from his throat as his rage began to build.

“Were you followed?” Fenrir roared, the thought that this recklessly stupid wolf could have brought not only wizards down upon them but also deatheaters, even though there had been no sign of anyone else since Micha’s arrival. If they were found then they would have to give up their territory and flee. It could take them years to find territory as good as this and even longer than that to make it even half as safe. If wizards found them here then Fenrir would kill Micha without question. They had to be sure.

“No!” Micha said with strained effort, still in pain but it was greatly improved from when he had snuck into the claimed territory, enticed by the smell of fresh meat in that cave. “I was careful, I swear! If they had followed me I wouldn’t be alive, I’m certain of it. They were trying to kill me.”
“If your stupidity has brought wizards here I will kill you,” Fenrir snarled. “Make no mistake I won’t tolerate any attacks on us here.”
“Look, I get the whole protect the pack thing but I just want to be a team player here. You guys saved my life, least I can do is help out a little … my Alpha.” Micha’s acknowledgement of Fenrir as the Alpha only added to the appeal of adding him to the pack. Callie drew back and whispered to Fenrir who nodded.
“You appear to be on the mend. As soon as you are fit and able you will go hunting with the rest of the pack,” Fenrir declared, “Then we will see how much use you will be to us.”
It was just over two weeks before Micha was well enough to prove himself. Two weeks during which he was watched closely, but finally he was able to go out hunting with Jenson, Fenrir and Callie, to restock the cache of food in the cave; leaving Romy, who was too young, in the clearing. When Micha took down a doe solo Fenrir was suitably impressed and, even though there was a long way for go until he was fully accepted into the pack and allowed a true place in its dynamic, by proving his more than adequate hunting abilities he had taken an important step in the right direction.
FGHP
“Why did you have to leave, Remy?” Sirius asked, his eyes sad and shadowed in his prematurely aged face. And somehow there was a youthful innocence to the question, as if he were still the twenty year old that Remus had known. “Everything had been going so well between us.”
It had been a full year since they had been reunited and the two of them were staying on the outskirts of a muggle village. It was nearing Christmas again, though neither of them had much reason to celebrate the holiday now. They knew they had to avoid wizarding communities because Sirius was still a wanted fugitive. He would be rounded up by the dark witches and wizards to be tortured if he was caught, even if it was by Ministry officials he would probably be handed over. They were aware that the Ministry was fully under Tom Riddle’s control even if most of the wizarding world remained unaware of this fact. It was only those that knew the signs that could tell what was really going on.

Remus sighed; he had strong reasons for leaving, though he had told everyone that he just needed to find answers. This was partly true of course. He had wanted to find answers but he hadn’t been able to confess the true reason why. He had told Sirius and James another half-truth; that he hadn’t trusted himself to be around the new born baby, not wanting to risk accidentally infecting him. The reality however was so much more dire and it was something that Remus was deeply ashamed of; something that tormented him still.
It had been only a few months before Harry had been born, the terrible night that Remus had bitten and presumably killed a young boy who couldn’t have been more than five or six years old at the time. Remus had never been able to face going back to check on him, despite the constant feelings of guilt, figuring that the poor child was probably dead. He had never allowed himself to consider the possibility that the young boy might have survived. He couldn’t consider it.
“It is difficult to explain,” Remus began, his voice as weary as his mind. He settled himself on the double bed beside his lover and one remaining best friend. He wanted so much more from Sirius but to call themselves boyfriends seemed so juvenile. They were more than that to one another, even after all this time but sometimes he had to wonder if they had enough sanity and hope left between them to make it work. Either way they had to try.
“I would never judge you for anything, Remy,” Sirius responded, his expression wary but accepting as Remus shuffled closer to him. “You took me back without question even after I killed a man. After I murdered our so called friend…” Sirius responded and Remus could see him replaying the traumatising memory over in his mind.
Sirius did not look as unhealthy as he had been when Remus had first set eyes upon him in the headmasters office a year ago. He had gained back a fraction of the boyishly handsome good looks but he had aged, that was undeniable; they both had, in mind as well as body. The fathomless grey eyes twinkled with mischief increasingly often and his long black hair hung seductively around his face that after a year of eating full meals was no longer gaunt or as pale as it had been as a result of his stint in Azkaban.
“You would judge me for this,” Remus said sadly, “I judge myself for it every single day. But please, I do not want to talk about the past anymore, Siri, I want to talk about our future.” The werewolf was hopeful that the two of them could have one; they had both lost so much and even sacrificed their very humanity to get to where they were in their lives now. They would cling to each other because they were all each other had right now, except for a small fragile hope that some small part of their friends lived on their son.
“Our future,” Sirius agreed; wide-eyed with genuine enthusiasm that seemed to come from nowhere; just as it often did now. “With Harry,” he added emphatically, as though making sure Remus hadn’t forgotten an important detail of what their future together would include.
Remus frowned at Sirius and his optimism. Remus couldn’t think of the boy like that. Whatever Harry had been through he was now fourteen years old, almost fifteen. There was no telling how they would find him or the state of mind he would be in; there was no telling what he would have been raised to be.
“You are aware that he won’t know us,” Remus said tentatively, not wanting to anger or upset his friend who still wasn’t in the most stable of mind sets. He secretly thought that Dumbledore ought not to have involved Sirius in the tracking and retrieval of Harry, especially not so soon after he had escaped Azkaban and killed a man. “He won’t be anything like Lily or James. He hardly knew them.”
“I know that but he’s Harry, little Harry. I held him in my arms, I looked after him so that Lily and James could go out for dinner one evening, I held him when he cried and let him pull my hair,” Sirius said, reminiscing about the times that he had spent with Lily and James after Remus had left. They had put up with him always hanging around and never said a word about it, understanding that he needed them.
“He isn’t a baby anymore, Siri,” Remus said gently, cuddling into his lovers side, resting his head upon Sirius’ chest; one arm resting, draped across his taut abdomen. “He’s a fourteen year old boy who will be scared and will, no doubt, not have a clue what’s going on with him.”
Sirius didn’t respond, instead returning the embrace. Remus got the impression that his words were not sinking into his lover and that worried the werewolf but there was nothing he could do for the moment. He refused to force the issue anymore tonight, he didn’t want to argue with him. It had been a long and tiring day but they were sure they were getting closer to Harry. They had been following leads and getting closer for the entire year that they had been searching. It wouldn’t be very long now, it couldn’t be.
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Fragmented Soul