Code Lupus || Self-Para || Between Battles || March 28th, 1980.
The kettle buzzed for attention and Remus hurried to turn the gas off and pour the water on the teacups before it grew cold. Levitating the tray to follow him back to the small table on the living room, he offered a cup to Albus Dumbledore and took the other for himself. A small plate of biscuits was laid between them, along with the sugar pot. Remus apologized for the tenth time since returning to his apartment from work to find the headmaster on his couch (Merlin knew how he had let himself in!) for the poor meal he had to offer and the mess of books piling up in every corner of the house.
Dumbledore raised an old hand to stop him, blue eyes gentle behind his half-moon spectacles “This tea is just fine and more than enough, my dear Mr. Lupin. Your apologies are unnecessary”.
Remus looked down at his tea with embarrassment and tipped his head bashfully “Thank you, professor. You are very kind”.
“I suppose you want to know why I am here today, Remus?” the old man went on, curling the tea bag’s string around his long fingers.
“Well, that and how on earth you got in through my protection spells!” the young man thought, but did not voice the words out loud. He simply nodded. Dumbledore could get away with many things the average wizard could not, after all.
The old man did not beat around the bush, going head-first into a detailed explanation of the situation that had brought him to Remus. Voldemort’s number of followers increased each day, and an alarming portion of them seemed to be werewolves lately. Dumbledore feared that the Dark Lord was taking advantage of society’s outcasts and their resentment to turn them against the wizarding community with promises of debauchery, uncensored violence and revenge. He was feeding the bestial side of the lycanthropy curse, manipulating the werewolves’ sense of abandonment into anger directed toward society. In a way, there was a sense of ironic justice to it. After all, the wizarding community was a bitch to werewolves, Remus would know. Now the wolves were being seduced with the possibilities of biting back. And a rogue werewolf army would be disastrous for the war, practically an unstoppable force of brute wilderness, with no sense of moral whatsoever, completely rabid.
The situation was critical, and it had made Dumbledore realize how vulnerable the wizarding community was making itself by neglecting and segregating werewolves. Something had to be done to counteract Voldemort’s new alliances.
“As ideal as it would be, I am afraid there is no time to change or society’s position towards werewolves. Changes like that take decades to be completed, decades we do not have” the old wizard shook his head, swinging his silver beard this way and that. He seemed genuinely affected by the werewolf discrimination. Remus knew the Hogwarts headmaster opposed such thing. After all, the man had taken him in his school and gone through great effort to incorporate him as smoothly as possible.
“Our only option is to act within the Order. To let the werewolves know that there is another way, another side that will accept them without violence or hatred. Voldemort does not care about their situation. To the Dark Lord they are instruments, nothing more. But we can promise them a safe environment” Remus’s blue eyes sparkled with intention as he looked directly at Remus, piercing him to his very soul “But for that, the Order needs your help”.
The young wizard had seen it coming. Realization did not hit him, but took over gradually, calmly, sinking in “You want me to recruit them to our side” he concluded for the man “You want me to convince them to fight for the Order instead”.
Dumbledore nodded solemnly. Remus rose to his feet, forgetting all about his tea. He walked over to the window and looked out into the street, going over the situation. He was sure the man knew how much he was asking of him. To turn to that second nature he worked so hard to hide. To stop and face a world he’d spent so much time running away from.
The timing was, of course, almost to ideal to be true. No more than a couple of weeks before, Greyback had shown up for his birthday with a coat and an offer to take part in his pack...He had left an open window to that world. Back then his refusal had been adamant, but now? Now it seemed like it was just the thing he needed to do what the Headmaster was asking of him.
“I cannot be the only werewolf who simply wants to lead a life as normal as possible, who wants peace and domain over the best rather than giving into it like some wild creature more feral and vicious than actual wolves. There are others like me out there, and I promise I will look for them. I will persuade them to join us” Remus took a deep breath and turned to Dumbledore “But in order to do that I will have to enter a world I have mostly been trying to avoid my whole life. I’m afraid the only link I have to the werewolves is not a pleasant one, sir. I will have to go through him if I hope to find others like me”.
The old man understood whom he was referring to. He knew more about Remus’s turning than others did, including the identity of the werewolf that bit him. It had been one of the conditions for the boy to have been allowed into Hogwarts.
“Are you sure, Remus? That you can—
“Go in without falling into my own beast’s nature never to come back? I am. I’ve been doing it for most of my life, Dumbledore” he replied confidently “Count me in”.
Determination shone in his hazel brown eyes in a way it rarely did. He was not an out of this world fighter, nor did he have any specific useful talent. But he was intelligent, and for this, he had something that made him fit for the job in a way no other Order member could ever hope (or fear) to be.
Remus was an insecure person by nature, yet he had never felt so sure of something until now. Perhaps it was because both of his natures were, for a change, set on the same goal. He wondered if that was as good a sign as it felt. He hated the thought that a part of him, of It, was even excited for this. A pack...a real pack...people like him, with the same experiences, the same dual natures...It was a different sense of belonging like the one he had with the Marauders. He felt he might be about to enter a Collective with capital C.
Time would tell if he did not lose himself in the process.
