The Taste Of Revenge

15

"Bloody hell child," Remus Lupin cursed loudly, throwing the slice of apple down in frustration, "Just try and bloody say something." The young boy, with wide blue eyes and matted blond hair, simply blinked at him, his mouth remaining firmly shut.

"Who is he?" Kingsley's smooth voice filled the tension in the air, making the child look up in shock.

"As far as I know," His friend murmured in reply, "He's just another one of Fenrir's bastard children.  There's nothing special about him, I don't understand why Tonks was so certain I kept him."

"Why did you?" Kingsley spat, a new bitterness in his voice that Remus hadn't heard before, "Why not just take her anyway, she was what we went there for, not him."

"You didn't see the look in her eyes," Remus protested, trying to find justification, "It would've broken her to leave the boy behind."

"Well its broken him!" Rising from her seat, Molly Weasley shouted out across the room, ending the argument once and for all, "Has anyone even stopped to think what that poor boy has been through?  Even if he is..." she hesitated, aware of everyone looking at her, "...that monster's son, it means no less.  If Tonks wanted to keep him safe more than herself, then bloody well look after him!"

The three men had returned to the Burrow the night before in a flurry of madness, people descending upon them before they had even so much as entered the house.  At first, the air had been filled with relief,  but that had changed as the situation became clear.  They still had failed to collect Tonks, returning instead with a toddler who refused to speak.  Desperately, Remus had tried to explain the situation, but the mood remained tense.

An emergency Order meeting had been scheduled for the following morning, mandatory attendance for whoever was still alive.  To begin with, they had been angry; they had found Tonks but still failed in returning her home, but that was soon replaced with a feeling of abject terror.  After three long, painful months, Dora remained a captive of the wolf pack.

"How do you mean when you say Greyback's bastards?" Bill questioned, his deep voice breaking the uncomfortable silence.  All eyes turned to Remus, who was still breathing heavily following his outburst at the boy.

"Fenrir has a law within the pack that every female must bear him at least one child." He explained quietly, his voice carrying in the silence held over the group around the table, "When the baby is born, its taken away and looked after until its fourth birthday.  The women are never even allowed to meet their own children.  After that age, a child can survive the bite and become a werewolf.  Greyback and Cooper train them from their first transformation, teaching them how to hate and kill.  He's raising an army."

"You don't suppose," Hestia Jones, a warm faced, dark haired witch, asked quietly, the fear evident in her voice, "That he would try and get Tonks to do that for him, do you?"

"I wouldn't doubt it." Mad-Eye growled, "The state the poor thing was in, nothing to wear, more blood there than girl."

"The fact is, its been three full months." Kingsley sighed, looking down at the little boy who sat opposite him, "We know what he's done to her, that much is obvious, and maybe he's not the only one.  But, after so long, how high is the likelihood he may have got her pregnant, especially if he was trying to?"

"Too high." Molly murmured, leaning her head against Arthur's shoulder and sighing slightly, "Whose blood was it, on her I mean?"

"We can't be sure," Remus answered carefully, choosing his words with great care, "But, if its any consolation, it can't have all been hers, it was on her face, in her hair, everywhere."

"What of the child?" Severus said quietly, the first words he had spoken since the meeting began, "Perhaps we could extract his memories, gain information on the topic."

"Severus Snape!" Molly gasped, sitting forwards with a jolt, "How dare you even suggest such a thing!  That is an innocent, probably emotionally unstable boy, you can't just go rifling through his head like he's not a person."

"My apologies Severus," Albus interrupted in a quiet, but perfectly clear, voice, "But I feel I do agree with Molly on this matter, for now at least the boy must receive the best care we can give him.  He is doubtless missing Nymphadora, perhaps more so than us.  We can have no idea of the bond they share, but he must be cared for well.  Molly, Arthur, can I place my trust with you?"

"Of course Albus." The couple chorused, linking hands and smiling, first at each other and then turning to the boy.

"Are you okay dear?" Molly smiled warmly, "Would you like something to eat?" Much to the surprise of everyone seated around the table, the boy began crying.  His big blue irises were magnified by the tears in his eyes and his throat sounded rough and scratchy, like he had been screaming for too long.  Remaining sat on his chair, he scrunched up into a ball, burying his face behind his knees as he continued to cry.

"Dorrie?" He whispered, barely audible, but enough for the people sat closest to him to hear, "Dorrie?"