48 ~ Blood binds us

Blood binds us to the past, but the beast within answers only to the call of the moon

Remus' POV:

     "And whatever became of Harmon and you?" the question had come from Sirius.          We were at lunch; afterwards, Gryffindor would have Quidditch practice. Wormtail would go along with the two of them, but I wanted to go to the library. In three days it was the full moon and I wanted to get as much of my homework done as possible. Likewise, I was already not in the best of moods, so that Padfoot's question only made me shrug my shoulders.     "We spoke and she wants to go to Hogsmeade with me," I explained, taking a sip of my tea; I had no hunger due to the well-known reasons, "Also, she was very drunk at the end of the party and she became clingy."     "But that's fantastic!" Padfoot exclaimed, but I didn't understand. I didn't know what was great about it, except that I could go to Hogsmeade with a girl. Perhaps I was also simply too tired to see the good things in life.

Full moon, a curse indeed...

     "I don't know if she's someone I can like. She seemed a bit superficial to me. I didn't understand why she kept laughing, even though I wasn't all that funny." I towards Prongs and Padfoot. They looked at me as if I were stupid.     I raised a brow to make it clear that I didn't understand their looks; consequently, Padfoot began to laugh. It was that familiar barking laugh, but it only irritated me much more.          "What?" I asked sharply and was already testy, inwardly tense; I didn't need this reaction from the two of them.     "Then say once more that I don't know my way around women," Sirius said cheerfully, but explained himself then: "She laughed because she finds you attractive and wants to please you."          "I see," I went, and had to admit that I really hadn't understood it. All the girls I had spoken with had been normal. I mean, Phil and Lily didn't laugh that much now, for example.     "So you're going to Hogsmeade with her?" Prongs asked me. He had already finished his meal.          "I don't know," I confessed, drinking the rest of my tea, "likewise, I'm too tired to think about it."     The boys pulled an understanding face; also, the thing with Sara Harmon was my business. She was a pretty girl, and yes, as Padfoot had said, she seemed to like me by the look of it. Also, my inner voice told me that I should gain experiences, but I didn't know if I could.     With a possible relationship, intimacies would follow and as is well known, I didn't feel comfortable in my body. Since this year it had been a bit better, but still.

Time will tell everything, but for now I am too tired.

     With these thoughts, the others finished their lunch, then we left the Great Hall and our paths parted. I made my way to the library, even though I only wanted to lie in my bed.     At present, I hated the whole world. I dreaded the thought of the full moon, the impending transformation and the loss of memory. Likewise, since Phil's arrival at Hogwarts, the fear of attacking her had grown, even if it had only happened once again, namely last full moon. Phil had advanced too far in our direction; nevertheless, I blamed myself for it. I wasn't allowed to, though; I had promised it to Phil in the hospital wing after the full moon.     I had hoped that our relationship with each other would improve after the stay in the hospital wing. It had a bit, for Phil spoke normally with me again, but still not as before the argument.     A few days ago in the night in the castle, Phil had told us that she didn't hate us, which had been a surprise after everything. I hadn't been able to imagine that she had really hated us, though; but it was good to have heard it from her personally.     Likewise, the whole encounter with Phil had been interesting. We had received confirmation that Phil knew her way around the castle excellently. Also, in the alcove, she had given Padfoot backtalk throughout, which I had found amusing, even though she now knew of the Marauder's Map, she had an idea of its existence.     In exchange, she had a favour owed by us, which was why Sirius had gotten worked up in the dormitory that night. In his opinion, Phil spent too much time with Lestrange, but I was of the opinion that Phil was slowly settling into Hogwarts and her true character was developing, which had been suppressed by all her lived experiences. I didn't believe that Phil was a reserved girl by nature, but that life had simply taught it to her.

They are only theories, however.

     Theories that only the future could confirm.          Therefore, I didn't think about Phil any longer, because, as I stepped into the library and wanted to go to a table, I discovered the real Phil. Inevitably, I had to smile, for the girl seemed to have fallen asleep. Her head lay next to her upper arm, her eyes closed.     I stepped up to the table, placed the books I had picked out on the seat opposite Phil. I sat down and for a short time I studied Phil, following which I stretched out my hand towards her. Carefully, I tapped against her upper arm, as I was sure that Phil wasn't sleeping in the library on purpose.

She too is tired.

     After I had tapped her, she flinched and started up. Phil sat up, whereby the piece of parchment remained stuck to her cheek. Blinking, she looked around the area, then she took the parchment from her cheek and the black ink on her skin made it clear that the writing on the parchment was also smudged. Phil pulled a face because of this, for now she would have to rewrite it.     "I fell asleep...?", she mumbled.          "Yes, I found you sleeping."     Phil leaned back in the chair, then she ran her hand sleepily over her face. Her hair was in a bun, which had already lost many strands of hair, though. The Gryffindor also seemed to notice that, for in the next moment she opened the bun and made herself a low ponytail instead.     "Three days...", Phil whispered.     I understood. In three days the moon would be full again and she too was tired, even if she appeared pensive to me. I was probably only imagining it, for even the last few weeks Phil had appeared pensive to me.

As if something were weighing on her...?

     I didn't know, for we weren't the best of friends. For this reason, I wouldn't address it with her, but I had another idea.          I reached into my messenger bag, said to Phil: "Lay your hand outstretched on the table. Palm facing up."     Phil knit her eyebrows, but did as bidden. I took my right hand out of my bag and placed it over Phil's. Her blue eyes looked at me confusedly, but when she felt the something in her hand that I let fall, I took my hand away. Consequently, Phil discovered the wrapped piece of chocolate lying in her hand. Immediately, she closed her hand, as eating was forbidden in the library.          "Chocolate always helps."     "Thanks," she replied. Our eyes met and she gave me a smile, an honest one. One that made me happy.

Phil's POV:

     Wind blew towards me as I stepped out of the secret passage. It was night, yet often I had already walked this path. My feet moved across the Hogwarts grounds; I did not go to the Whomping Willow. Today was the full moon.     I would have to go to my place, which one could also reach from the Shrieking Shack, though in human form one would need nearly an eternity.     For this reason, I went the way I had last taken in fourth year, when I had run out of the castle in a panic, to my place where my former pack had waited for me.     On that evening, everything had become too much for me, my head had become too much for me, his voice. Everything had been new and I had believed that there would be no place for me in the human world, that the abyss would be my path.     Until today I wasn't completely sure, but I had given life as a human a chance and was proud of my progress. I was still careful, but I no longer saw a monster in every shadow.

But am I perhaps the true monster? And if not, then the daughter of a monster?

     Yes, so it seemed to me - the daughter of a monster. One whom I would meet now.     I didn't know how I should feel about it, but now there was no turning back. That's what I told myself, for in my case there was actually still a way back until the very last step. Only in my head was there no turning back, for I had made a decision.

But is it the right one?I don't know...

     I had gone out of the castle earlier today in order not to cross paths with the Marauders, and tonight was a clear one. The stars twinkled in the dark sky. The moon would rise shortly.     In the following moment, I reached the edge of the forest and went inside. Darkness enveloped me, but for me it was familiar. My whole life I had spent in the depths of the Forbidden Forest, for I had grown up nearby - at the other edge of the forest, where there was another settlement besides Hogsmeade. Therefore, my place was on the way there.     The last time, when I had run out of the castle crying, the way had appeared shorter to me, but after nearly an hour's trek I reached the place. I went up a small slope; tension grew in my body.     Like a cold wave, fear spread thereafter and my legs became heavier with every one of my steps. My body blocked, but it had to be. I finally had to find out about the person who had played a large role in my life. A person who had passed this curse on to me, was hated and sought by the wizarding world. Was sought as a murderer.     My father was not someone one should meet alone in the Forbidden Forest at night, but I wasn't afraid, I mean for myself. He wouldn't kill me; at worst, only kidnap me. In his letter he had mentioned, however, that his locations had never been safe, so I even excluded that in my thoughts.     As a logical conclusion, it remained that he wanted to talk to me. He could do that now, for in the next instant I reached my place. In front of my tree, a man sat in the grass and looked towards me.

My father, someone of my own blood.

     As I came closer, the man observed me, who was dressed entirely in black. I went halfway towards him; my body was numb, far too calm.     Wind blew through the labyrinth of the forest, and when my father rose, I did feel slightly different. He looked exactly as in my memories, but likewise completely different. He was tall, taller than Remus, thin, his fiery red hair in a ponytail at the nape of his neck. His face was covered by a red beard and his eyes twinkled blue.          "Phil...", he whispered with a deep, rough voice, came closer to me; my neck hairs stood up, "you really came."     When he came too close to me, I took two steps back. I symbolised that I was not out for a happy father-daughter reunion, and he understood. He remained standing at some distance before me, studying me closely.     I too studied him and noted that his face was marked by a long claw trail. Where the scars went across his right cheek, no beard hair grew, but otherwise he didn't look as if he had had to fight for his survival these last years.     His black clothing was even clean and showed only few signs of wear. His black coat seemed to be the oldest, for the first two buttons were missing, but it had no holes.     "You have become a proper young lady," my father said, pressing his lips together, "I have missed all this."          "You left..."     It must have been around seven to eight years ago that I had last seen him.          "I had to leave."     "Because the Ministry is looking for you," I replied. He seemed to understand my point of view; he had abandoned me, couldn't know what I had to go through, and now I was old enough that I knew of his atrocities.

To me you are no saint, as you probably see yourself. A creator of a new race of werewolves.

     "What happened after your mother's death, Phil?"          "You should first ask how she died," I scoffed and looked to the right, where an owl flew out of a pitch-black treetop.     The forest was quiet. I toyed with the sleeve of my jumper. My breathing was shallow and only with my father in the dark forest did life feel simple. I forgot the problems of the world, for my father was one all of his own.          Before me he stood; still my body was numb.     "I can imagine it," came the answer, "I should have taken you with me, even if it was dangerous. She didn't understand your nature, but you could come with me now?"          "I don't want to have you in my life now."     He nodded briefly, understood that too much had happened for me to be able to see him as a father. He was a bad person, evil.     "There is much, however, that you still need to know, Phil. I can imagine that you have problems with many things. Magic as an example."     I knit my eyebrows and didn't understand what he wanted to tell me.

Can he do magic?

     "You must learn how to deal with your gift."     "Gift?", I went, little convinced, "What kind of gift? I have to live with the curse that you decided to give me."          "It is no curse."     "That is how I see it, though," I spoke, and as I stared into the sky, I noticed a change. The moon was rising. It was calling for us.          "There is so much that I could show you, teach you," my father said, his gaze likewise went into the sky.     When he looked at me afterwards, I flinched in fright. His eyes glowed in an intense blue and they appeared more animalistic than human. It was strange, for no real light seemed to emanate from his eyes, yet they were brighter.     "Such as that you can postpone the transformation for a time," he explained and came closer to me. This time I didn't back away a step; his gaze was too captivating.

Those eyes...

     "You must listen into yourself," spoke the man before me, placing a hand on my shoulder, "Use your magic that you use for the transformation, even without the full moon. You can access it, but to control it properly requires practice. Now listen to the calling of the moon, how it wants you to transform. Close your eyes and take in the calling, but do not let it control you; you can control it. The moon is not master over us; we are master over it. That is the gift."     After these words I closed my eyes, felt it. I felt the calls of the full moon, yet I resisted, took in its energy at the same time. It felt like a transformation without a full moon, only that I didn't transform. When I opened my eyes, I perceived my surroundings better.     In this moment, McGonagall's words came to my mind, that I could probably access my magical powers to see or hear better. Now my father seemed to have achieved exactly that with me. It made it clear that he was the reason why I was the way he had wanted me.

He likes this power.

     That is what I thought as I looked at him and he smiled proudly. I felt sick.     It had always been that way, since my childhood. My father as a mentor, although he was one of the most dangerous people in the wizarding world. Me always before him, like a pawn whom he directed as if in chess.     Now he was doing it again, for here I stood, had let myself be controlled by him once more. I didn't want to, though, for he was to blame for everything, was a bad person.          Therefore I turned out of his grip. I wanted to come to an end.     "Why did you seek contact with me? What do you want from me? For what reason am I like this?", I asked the questions that I had wanted to ask from the beginning, but the answers to which I did not want to know.