The Wolf and The Raven, Bk 2

Ch 21 - Deathbed

Warnings: graphic depiction of injuries, death

"Why can't I go with you?"

Remus and Branwen were standing on the front stairs outside her house. She stood a step above him, putting her just at his eye level. It was the perfect position for Branwen to preform her practised pout: her bottom lip quivered, her dark lashes lowered over her bright eyes, and her fingers plucked at the collar of his shirt.

Remus gently lifted her fingers, interlacing them with his own. "I told you. You can't come with me because you'll want to stay with me during the full moon. And you can only do that if you're in your Animagus form, which my parents don't know about."

"Then let's tell them."

He sighed. "You're an illegal Animagus. And Dad works for the Ministry. He'd be obligated to add you to the registry."

"He doesn't have you registered," she wrested her hand from his and poked him in the centre of his chest.

He recaptured the hand, rubbing his thumb along her knuckles. "Branwen, you know I would love nothing more than for you to come with me. I want you with me all the time. But my parents are hiding enough secrets. I just can't ask any more of them."

"I understand," she sighed. Then she lifted her chin and smiled up at him. "But I'm coming over before holiday's end."

He leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to her lips. "I'll be counting the minutes."

"What a cliché," she giggled, leaning into the kiss, pressing the memory of it into her mind.

They only pulled away at the sound of a throat clearing. Remus jumped, thinking it was his father, but when they turned to the door, it was James leaning against the frame.

"Padfoot!" he called over his shoulder. "Come take care of Feathers. Moony and I need to have a little talk."

Branwen placed her hands on her hips. "Excuse me? You can't just go around giving orders!"

He glared at her, his eyes hidden in shadow beneath his glasses. Branwen swallowed hard. She knew better than to argue with that look; it was the same one their father used when he was cross. She gave Remus one final peck on the cheek, then hurried into the house behind her brother.

James pushed himself from the door-frame. As he moved toward Remus, he crossed his arms, purposefully flexing his powerful Chaser arms. He moved to the step his sister had vacated so he could stare down at the other boy.

"Look, Remus," he started, "you're my mate. More than that. Even though Sirius lives with us now, you're my brother just as much as him and just as much as Peter.

But Branwen's my sister. I held her the day she was born. I taught her to ride a broom. I've looked after her all our lives. And that's not going to stop just because she's dating you now. If you ever – ever – hurt her, make her cry, disappoint her in any way....I'll make sure you don't live to regret it."

Remus swallowed hard and his eyes shifted. He didn't quite know what to say. Then he caught movement in the ground floor window. Branwen was watching anxiously, Sirius at her side. They both smiled when he saw them and she gave him a thumbs-up.

Remus smiled and took a step up, so that he was even with his friend. His bright, clear eyes met James' dark ones. "Prongs, I'm glad you gave me this little talk. Because I love your sister, and I want her to be happy. If I thought her brother didn't have an interest in who she chooses to spend her time with, I'd be a bit worried. But I know you love her too, so she'll be protected no matter what happens."

James considered this. "You really do love her?"

"Of course! She's everything to me. I – I know it sounds sappy, but I've just never felt a connection with anyone like I feel with her. It's like you said; you're my mate, my brother. But she's my soulmate."

James looked away and shoved his hands in his pockets. "And you're not upset about everything I just said?"

Remus shook his head. "I'm not worried, because I know you'll never have to make good on it. I will never hurt her or disappoint her. I only want to live for her happiness. I guess I always have. In fact, I doubt much will change really....except that there will be a great deal more snogging." His face broke into a wide grin.

James scowled. "Fine. But keep the snogging to a minimum....and absolutely no shagging!"

Remus' face was instantly a shade of red. He was saved from further embarrassment though, when his father opened the door. "Ready to go, son?"

Remus nodded. Both Lupins bade James good-bye, then Apparated away.


Though the day was fast fading, Euphemia insisted on taking Sirius to Madam Malkin to replace at least a few of the things he had left at Grimmauld Place. She hoped it would take his mind off things, but also that it would make him feel more at home if he didn't have to share clothes with James (which was a bit of a difficulty anyway, since James was long and lean and Sirius was broad and brawny).

After dinner, she kept the anxious silence at bay with the Wizarding Wireless Network. They listened to a few Celestina Warbeck tunes, then a programme called Between Dusk and Dawn, hosted by the ghost, Drogo Shades, who interviewed his fellow spirits and shared tales of life and afterlife. Over advertisements for TerrorTours and Kwikspell Correspondence Courses, Euphemia carried on a lively conversation about the latest in Quidditch news and Madam Malkin's opinions on the new fashions from Paris. Despite Euphemia's best efforts, though her husband's absence was a glaring reminder of what had happened.

Fleamont had been holed up in his office all day, sending and receiving owls. He had many friends in high places at the Ministry, and he was pulling every string he knew of to find Alphard Black. When the clock in the parlour announced the midnight hour, the household decided to turn in for the night and hope for better news in the morning.



Branwen woke in the early hours. The moon, which would be completely full in only a few hours, filled her room with its light. She slipped from her bed and crept to her window seat. Removing the locket from around her neck, she opened its tiny clasp to see Remus' miniature likeness smiling up at her.

She didn't need the photograph to see his face though. It was sewn through every inch of the fabric of her being. His green eyes, full lips, long nose – the gashes that tore across those features like plough marks through a fertile landscape. They were all a part of her. And now she was a part of him.

Branwen found herself physically aching to feel his touch again. Had it only been a few hours ago that he had kissed her goodbye on her front steps? And was it all real? Did Remus John Lupin – the most perfect boy in the world – actually kissed her? Or would she wake up tomorrow to find it all a dream?

Maybe, she thought to herself, Voldemort actually had killed her. Maybe she had died and this was her Paradise, her divine afterlife.

But then, the pale beams dancing across her skin dragged her back into reality.

In her perfect world, she knew, there would be no full moon. It would go from waxing to waning in a matter of seconds and Remus would never have to be in pain again.

She glanced at the sparkling silver clock on her mantle. 5:36. The moon would be completely full in fourteen hours and eleven minutes. She still had time to get to him; she could hail the Knight Bus and be in Wales within the hour.

But she glanced down at the photos in the locket again. Letting her eyes travel across the panels, she saw James and Sirius and Peter. Her brothers. They needed her too.

She brought Remus' picture to her lips, then snapped the clasp, and placed him back around her neck.

Thinking of James and Sirius though, her brows knit in suspicion. The boys had been far too docile through the day. They complied too easily with the Potters' attempts to keep them occupied and were much too eager to go to bed. If Branwen hadn't been lost in her own floating cloud of happiness, she would have been wary long before.

She crept across her room and peeked into the hall. James' door was ajar and there was a weak light behind it casting shadows on the floor. She sighed and rolled her eyes. Darting back into her own room, she pulled her dressing gown over her more modest paisley pyjamas and tucked her wand into the pocket. Before leaving, she bent and kissed Sean's snoozing little head.

Branwen wasn't surprised, when she opened the door to her brother's room, to see James and Sirius, both wide awake, sitting on the bed, heads bent in quiet conversation. They didn't seem surprised either at the sound of her voice. "Going somewhere, boys?"

"You know where we're going, Feathers," Sirius growled.

"Padfoot! You promised!" Branwen stamped her foot in an unironic tantrum.

"It wasn't like it was an Unbreakable Vow."

She huffed. "And what you think you're doing, James?"

The pale light glowed on his glasses as he cautiously eyed his friend. "I can't let Padfoot go alone."

"Well, I can't either of you go alone." Branwen crossed her arms. "You two have the combined impulse control of a Niffler in a jewellery shop."

"Look, you're not talking us out of it," Sirius said firmly.

"I'm not here to talk you out of it."

"Well, you're not coming with us." James stood. "And that's final!"

"You're not Daddy – stop ordering me around!"

"I'm your brother. If anything happens to you, it will be on my head, and....and I would never be able to live with myself."

She sighed. "What you think I would do if something happened to either of my brothers?"

The boys glanced at each other.

Branwen reached into her gown and pulled out her wand. "Together?"

They knew it was inevitable that she would be going, so they decided not to argue and extended their wands as well.

"Together."


Their vow, though dramatic and heartfelt, turned out to be sadly unnecessary.

As the three of them descended the stairs, they heard the low tones of a hushed conversation coming from the parlour. Glancing at each other, they crept forward until they could peer around the door. Fleamont was speaking with a middle-aged witch. Her lime-green robes bore the crossed bone and wand emblem of St Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries.

They caught snatches of the woman's whispered words. "....stable for now....doesn't have long.... next of kin....."

Fleamont's shoulders were bowed, and he kept raking his fingers across his balding head. He nodded to the witch, then turned to face the door. He didn't seem surprised to find his children standing there. He sighed, then said, "They've found Alphard. We need to go to him. Now."

Euphemia bustled into the room, tears trickling from the corners of her eyes. She pressed a mug of tea and tin of biscuits into Branwen's hands before Summoning cloaks for her three children.

Grasping hands, the Potters and the Healer Disapparated.

When the world came back into focus, the group found themselves standing in a corridor so narrow, James and Sirius ended up shoved against the walls. They nearly knocked down a portrait of the medieval Healer, Paracelsus Pertinger, who simultaneously scolded them and diagnosed them with spattergroit.

The door in front of them bore a brass sign that read: Janus Thickney Ward – Permanent Spell Damage.

"Alohomora." The Healer unlocked the door, leading them into a large room. Only two beds were occupied. It was still early in the morning though, and both occupants were sleeping soundly. The only light in the room came from a few iridescent crystal bulbs hovering over a bed in the far corner. Its occupant was obscured by thick canvas curtains like the ones Madam Pomfrey used to shield Remus in the Hogwarts hospital wing.

They made their way to the hidden bed and when the Healer pulled back the curtains, Branwen gasped.

Alphard was laying in the centre of the bed – or, what was left of him was laying there.

Branwen recognised the effects of Splinching. Sixth and seventh year students came into the hospital wing every spring with similar injuries, but they usually consisted of missing eyebrows, holey elbows, or the occasional severed foot. But Alphard Black was missing far more than a foot. His arm had been ripped from his shoulder, leaving a gaping hole, and his chest looked as though it had been carved out with a blade. The Healers had managed to seal the wound, but they could still see his twitching muscles, his pulsing arteries, and, through a shattered ribcage, his weakly beating heart.

Euphemia fled the room to vomit in the ladies' toilet.

The Healer spoke to Fleamont. "Splinched, as you can see. Normally, one can carry on a perfectly healthy life after loss of limb, but he's been through much more. Definitely the Cruciatus Curse, likely several other forms of torture as well. He hasn't long. We've put him under a Sleeping Spell; I'll wake him."

The Healer waved her wand in a small circular motion over her patient. Alphard twitched, then gasped, his body spasming in shock. His head thrashed about, but when he saw Fleamont and the children, he froze, eyes unnaturally wide. "Fl-Flemont! C-come 'ere."

Fleamont crossed to the other side of the bed to grasp Alphard's one remaining hand. "I'm here. Say what you need."

Alphard continued to pant and sweat beaded along his brow at the effort of remaining lucid. "I-I told them. I tried not to – but I told them everything. They used torture, Cruciatus, legilimency, Veritaserum. I gave them names. You, Dumbledore, Lupin, Moody, Tonks, Prewett....I told them – I told them where we were meeting. They know everything – they know!"

Fleamont squeezed his hand. "You did everything you could. I don't think any of us could have done any better. I'll write to Dumbledore. The man has a plan for everything. I'm sure it will be all right."

Alphard didn't respond. His eyes lolled in his head, trying to locate his nephew. "Sirius?"

Sirius was standing between James and Branwen. Both were holding his hands. He glanced at them, then stepped forward. "I'm here, Uncle."

Alphard's eyes locked onto him, then quickly closed. His chest rattled as he inhaled, trying to get everything out at once. "My will. Andie can have the house, but everything I have in Gringotts is yours. Don't let those bastards contest it. And stick with the Potters. Don't forget – we all need family – even if it's not the one we were born with."

Branwen gave a small, coughing sob and hugged James to her side.

The moment was shattered though, when the door slammed open. Andromeda ran into the room. She staggered toward her uncle's bed, and the Potters parted to let her through. She knelt and placed a hand to his cheek. He was already dead.


Moments after Alphard's passing, Fleamont summoned a quill and parchment and sat down to write a note.

Black dead. Order breached.
Potter House. Monday. 19:00

The small, efficient owls employed by the hospital flew across the country faster than they ever had. A frazzled tawny owl was dispatched especially to the Pettigrew house with a letter from Branwen, filling them in on recent events. Peter arrived at the Potter House by Knight Bus before dark.


Branwen spent most of the next day pacing around the house waiting for the arrival of the Lupins. Lyall was among those who had been contacted via owl, and she hoped he would be bringing his son to the gathering. She was disappointed (to say the least) when he showed up alone. He did have an envelope in his hand though. He smiled pitifully at Branwen and passed her the letter before heading deeper into the house.

She tore open the seal:

Dear Branwen,
I'm more sorry than you can know that I can't be there with you. I miss you. I've missed you more in these past twenty-four hours than I have in all the years I've known you. But I don't want you to worry about me. I'm completely fine. Mum just wanted me to stay home to rest a little longer, and I didn't want to upset her. I'll be there as soon as I can.
With all my love,
Remus
P.S. Give Padfoot my condolences for his uncle. Alphard was a man to be admired, and I'm sure he'll be missed.

Branwen crumpled the parchment in her fist. The shaky penmanship and her own experience told her that Remus was lying about his health. His transformations at home were always the worst. She swore at herself for not insisting on being with him. She wasn't going to let it happen again. But for the moment, she needed to focus on what was happening under her own roof.

Fleamont and Euphemia had spent the better part of the day converting the indoor Quidditch pitch (the largest room in the house) into a setting suitable for the meeting. The artificial grass had been transformed into a polished wood floor. Comfortable armchairs were arranged facing a podium. Candles floated through the air, lending a soft glow. Trays of tea and biscuits floated amongst the seats. James, Sirius, Peter, and Branwen sat near the rear and watched the guests arrive.

The Prewett twins were among the first to show up – Bailey Fairchild on Fabian's arm – along with their brother-in-law, Arthur. Dedalus Diggle and Elphias Doge came in together. A number of Aurors were there, headed by Alastor Moody. Ted and Andromeda must have found someone to mind Dora, for they arrived without their young daughter in tow.

Dumbledore was the last to appear, and he didn't bother with pleasantries as he made his way to the front of the room.

"You all know why we're here," he began without preamble. "Our friend, Alphard Black, who was reported missing only two days ago, was found yesterday. He was able to Apparate to St. Mungo's, but lost an arm and much of his torso in the process. This trauma, along with the wounds and torture received at the hands of Death Eaters at Malfoy Manor, was the cause of his death yesterday morning."

Murmurs rippled around the room. Although many had already heard of Alphard's death, the exact nature of his injuries had, until now, been a matter of conjecture.

Dumbledore continued. "Though Alphard's role in the Order was, much like our gracious host, mostly financial, he remained true to our cause until the very end. He was a doting uncle, loyal friend, and true gentleman. He will be sorely missed."

He paused as those around the room lowered their heads.

"There is, however, something of which you must all be made aware. Alphard was subjected to tortures most of us could not even imagine. As a result of these agonies, he was forced to reveal certain information about our organisation. Voldemort now has a comprehensive list of our members, including almost everyone in this room."

The crowd was stunned into silence.

" Those of our number who no longer wish to be counted among us need only speak up; we have specialists willing and able to create new lives for yourselves and your families. I can assure you that, if you choose this path, you will be out of harm's way."

Dumbledore's sharp blue eyes scanned the room above his half-moon glasses. "To those of you who wish to stay, I must warn you: the fight will only get harder from here. You too, will likely be subjected to torture and possibly death. If not yourself, then your family or someone you love. The path forward is anything but safe. Alphard was the first of our number to fall, but he will not be the last."