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M-Mature Were-Werewolves


Hello Mr. Scamander -
You may remember me. I’m Remus Lupin’s… mate… Sirius Black.
I’m writing you in regards to Remus, actually. You see, it seems that Remus has been ill lately, in the time leading up to the full moon. He is having all of the regular reactions he has to the full moon, but nearly a week in advance. It’s very alarming. Aconite barely helps at all. Do you know what is causing the illness and how I might go about helping him to feel better?
Sincerely,
Sirius Black



Newt lowered the letter to the table.

Tina was clutching the baby, Rolf, feeding him a bottle of milk as she rocked him gently and sang, staring down at him with glistening eyes. Newt watched her for several moments as the words that Sirius had written tumbled about in his mind. He rubbed his chin with the edge of the parchment and frowned.

When he got up from the table, Tina paused in her song for the baby. “Is everything alright?”

“Y-yes, of course,” Newt replied, and he nodded a bit too enthusiastically. “Just g-got to - to floo Ned.”

Tina watched Newt walk out of the room. He passed her sister, Queenie, in the doorway, who was just entering the kitchen, her steps like floating on air. Queenie watched Newt pass through and smiled after him as he slouched away before turning back to look at Tina and Rolf at the table. The bottle stayed suspended by magic as Tina sighed and brushed a bit of hair from her own forehead that had fallen out of the bun she’d tied it back into.

Queenie settled into the chair beside her, leaning over the table to rub Rolf’s chubby cheek with her fingertips, smiling at him. “Little bean,” she whispered, smiling, “You’re a little bean…” Her eyes sparkled in that way that Tina had always been jealous of (they came from the same gene pool - why did Queenie’s eyes do that thing when Tina’s didn’t?). She looked up at Tina, then glanced over her shoulder the way Newt had gone, before turning back to her sister. “Who is Remus Lupin?”

Tina looked up from the baby again. “Remus? What about Remus?” she asked. Fear trembled her voice.

“Newt was just thinking of him is all, just now, as he was leaving...” Queenie explained. “That’s why he’s going to speak with Ned Veigler…” she hesitated, then, “Remus is sick?”

Tina pushed Rolf into Queenie’s arms rather abruptly. “Here, hold him a moment,” she said, and she hurried out of the room.

Queenie stared after her sister, then shrugged and turned to nuzzle her nose against the baby’s, cooing quietly as she did.

Tina caught Newt in the living room, where he was pushing some of Queenie’s laundry away from the fireplace, where it was floating on wooden drying racks, the pink and lace garments fluttered in the warm air that the fireplace put off. Tina caught Newt’s elbow. “Mr. Scamander,” she said in a stern tone that made Newt look at her with eyebrows raised. “What’s wrong with Remus Lupin? Was that letter from Dumbledore?”

Newt explained, “It - it was from, uh, Sirius… Sirius B-black, that is.” He paused as Tina continued staring at him, waiting for the rest of the explanation. “Seems - it seems as though something is m-making Remus s-sick, as though he’s, uh, experiencing the full moon, but - but a bit in adv-advance.”

Tina’s eyebrows went up. “Like what Ned has been experiencing.”

“Y-yes,” Newt nodded.

Tina’s eyebrows folded in concern, “But Bradley hasn’t --”

“Bradley might be too, uh, young,” Newt supplied.

Tina fidgeted with the hem of her long sweater. “But what do you think is the cause?”

“I don’t - don’t know,” Newt said.




Ned Veigler was seated in a high-backed chair, sipping aconite tea. Across his lap lay the bright orange kneazle, who pawed and prodded against the fabric of the arm of the chair, tail flicking through the air, illuminated only by the dying fire-embers. He drew a shaking palm across the cat-like creature’s back, wincing at the pain that came from the bend of his knuckles. Thick curtains were drawn over the tall windows to block out the moonlight that was near-to-constant. The room echoed with the sound of his low-voice as he spoke the words, over and over - nearly a mantra, “It isn’t the full moon, it isn’t the full moon…” The kneazle’s pur was loud enough to fill any gaps in the words so that there was no silence.

Embers fell from the log, crackling as they hit the stone hearth…

“Ned.”

The kneazle stood up, tail flickering, a long low meow issuing from low in the kneazle’s throat, and she slid from Ned’s lap onto the floor of the room, going to investigate the face that had appeared in the hearth among the logs, made up of ember and flame.

“Mr. Scamander,” Ned said in surprise, and he struggled to stand up, pushing himself up from the chair, wincing with the pain that shot through his joints and muscles. He limped slowly to the hearth and lowered himself before it, right onto his knees, and the pain that spiked in them made him think, fleetingly, of Remus Lupin and he wondered how Remus was… Then, “Mr. Scamander, have you found out anything - what could be causing this?”

The kneazle had a paw out, hovering over the embers that made Newt’s face, not daring to touch because of the heat radiating from the ash and fire.

“Not entirely, but - uh - I - I do know it isn’t only you being affected by it,” Newt stammered. “I’ve - I’ve just received word that Remus Lu-Lupin is experiencing very similar effects to what you are - uh - feeling right now, Mr. Veigler.”

Ned closed his eyes, feeling quite sorry for Remus Lupin, but, at the same time, rather thankful that, whatever it was that was wrong, it wasn’t affecting just him. He’d been imagining great deal of horrible things that it might’ve been. “Perhaps it’s all of the werewolves?” Ned asked, “Do you reckon?”

Newt said, “Perhaps.”

The kneazle shrieked and jumped backwards suddenly as through the ash poked a second face - Tina Scamander had joined her husband and now she interrupted the conversation, “But Bradley isn’t affected.”

“Yes, yes true,” Newt stammered. He looked thoroughly puzzled. “Perhaps it’s just, uh, m-mature w-werewolves that are being - uh - affected.”

Tina’s ember-eyes looked up at Ned. “How are you feeling?” she asked, concerned.

Ned replied, “I am alright, Tina.” But even as he said the words, a wince came upon his face as a pain went through his lower spine. He smiled sheepishly. Tina looked equally pained at the sight of his pain. “Mr. Scamander,” Ned said, looking to Newt as the Kneazle lowered herself to the floorboards, her tail flicking uneasily. “What could it be?”

“I - I am un - unsure, but I need to examine the pair of you and - and observe the - the affects myself, in - in person.” Newt stared up at Ned. “Now I - I’m going to Hogwarts if you could - uh - could meet us there. I’ll inform Dumbledore.”

Ned imagined making the journey from Iceland to Scotland, of travelling all that distance from Fallungunder to Hogsmeade and it made him feel quite horrible. Every muscle in his body ached in protest of the very thought of it. But he nodded in agreement and said, “I shall see you shortly, then.”

“Yes, yes,” Newt nodded, and he quickly ducked out of the flames, making the kneazle hiss.

Tina stared up at Ned. “We will figure it out, Mr. Veigler,” she said, a comforting smile on her mouth.

Ned nodded, “Thank you, Tina.”

She smiled, “See you in Hogsmeade,” and she ducked away as well.

Ned sighed as he leaned back and the kneazle, bored with regular fire now, turned and ran her side along Ned’s arm, which was splayed back to support his weight. The kneazle wove in between his arm and his side and around again as she let out low purring. Ned stood, slowly, in steps, barely able to do it for the pain it caused him. He drew his wand from the pocket of his thick sweater and, leaning against the mantel, he waved it at the bowls by the chair, where he had put down food and water for the kneazle, who was now watching with round, glowing eyes. “Accio cane,” he commanded and a cane flew to him from where he had leaned it. “I will be back,” he promised the kneazle, who was inspecting her dishes now, glancing up at him.

Ned reached into a jar on the mantel and withdrew a handful of lime green floo powder, which he tossed over the fireplace. The flames hissed and glowed and Ned announced, “The Hog’s Head, Hogsmeade!” and he stepped through the fireplace.




“NO!” James hollered out, sitting up, panting wildly.

He was in the hospital wing.

The hospital wing, he told himself firmly. Not that horrid little cell in that horrible place.

You did not really hear his feet on the floor. You did not hear his robes dragging the stone. You did not hear him come in, somehow magically through the bars.

This is not him leaning over you now.

But there was a shadow… there was someone hovering….

James’s brown eyes met Lily’s green.

“I’m here, James,” she said gently, and through she was blurry - his glasses on the nightstand - he could see her face was sincere.

“Evans,” he said.

Lily nodded, “I’m right here, Potter,” and she sat on the edge of the bed beside him, wrapping her arms gently ‘round his back, pulling him closer to herself. She laid a palm upon his far cheek, his head resting against her shoulder, “I’m right here.”

James closed his eyes as her knuckles swept gently across his cheekbone... caressing him, soothing him. “It’s okay,” she whispered. “It will be okay… I’m here for you, Potter. As long as you want me.”

James brought his hands up and hooked them upon her arm as she stroked his cheek. “I’ll always want you Evans,” he replied, the smell of roses and vanilla filling him up.

Lily rested her cheek against the wild explosion of hair atop his head. “Then I’ll always be here, won’t I?” she whispered.