The Werewolf's Child

A Visitor

Remus was in the kitchen at Spinner's End, making lentil soup. He had some bacon and an onion, a few stalks of celery and a handful of mushrooms. He was quite pleased. Sev would probably be round with groceries tonight, hungry, and Remus was glad to be able to piece together a meal from what they had in the house. There would be hot soup waiting for Sev when he arrived.

Sev appreciated these kinds of homey touches a ridiculous amount. For Remus, who had been in all kinds of relationships over the years, it came naturally to cook and care for another person. That was just what you did for each other, in his experience. But for Sev it was all new. "I never had anyone cook for me before," he had admitted to Remus one night, embarrassed with his eyes on the ground.

As Remus was chopping vegetables, humming to himself under his breath, his eye caught a movement in the alley, out past the wards, where they left the rubbish for the binman. He looked up, then went quietly to the window and peered out.

There was a beefy looking young man in a leather jacket, pacing back and forth beyond the garden wall and studying the house from under a thatch of blond hair. He looked too well cared for to be one of the neighborhood toughs, though he imitated their posture and their mannerisms. In his pacing, he kept disappearing and reappearing from behind the greenhouse, which took up a good portion of the back garden wall. Remus knew that no one could look past the wards and concealment charms - all they would see was an empty, abandoned garden and a deserted house; peeling paint, broken windows, the roof half caved in. He watched the stranger warily for a few minutes but he had a pretty good idea of who it was. At last with a sigh he went upstairs and put a set of Sev's old robes on over his clothes, to hide the bump. He went back downstairs slowly, hoping maybe the young man had left, but he was still there. Remus checked his wand in his pocket, and, wondering if he was doing the right thing, stepped out into the snowy frozen garden, and down the path he took every day to the greenhouse. He put his hand on the latch of the back gate. It opened with a creak.

The young man in the alley startled back, his face white, and put his fists in front of him. For a moment Remus thought he was going to punch him. He resisted the urge to reach for his wand.

"State your name and business," Remus said crisply, to the trembling young man who looked out at him warily from behind his fists. "And be quick about it."

The boy lowered his hands slowly. "Dudley Dursley," he said in a tremulous voice. "And I want to help."

                                                                                              *********

Remus ushered Dudley into the house and sat him down at the kitchen table. Dudley sat without speaking, rubbing his hands and blowing on them to warm them up. Remus handed him a cup of tea and sat down opposite him.

"So Dudley," he began, stirring sugar into his own tea.

"I want to help," said Dudley again.

"You.... that's very noble of you."

"I mean it. I'm going mental in that house all day."

"You are helping," said Remus gently. "You're keeping the families that are staying with you safe. You're supporting your parents."

"I'm not doing anything!" Dudley's voice rang out, loud and angry. His big beefy fist slammed the table. "Harry's out there, fighting Him, every day, and I'm stuck in the house, doing nothing. I tell you, I'm going mental. Dad's just... drinking all the time and Mum's just.... worried all the time..... And I want to fucking do something."

"How did you find this house?"

"Mum showed me where it was, once. She said you were sweet on my aunt. You know, Harry's mum," said Dudley with a sly grin.