CURSES AND CANDIES - REMUS LUPIN

𝑜𝑛𝑒 ℎ𝑢𝑛𝑑𝑟𝑒𝑑 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑡ℎ𝑟𝑒𝑒.

When Remus landed in the Withershire Mountains just outside the cave with the two triangular stones just like Dumbledore had expected, he instantly was hit by how far from home he was.

The trees around him were unlike the rich, fragrant pines of Lolchant Forest, and instead bare skeletons with chipping bark that crunched under his feet, making it impossible to be stealthy in any way. Not a single chipmunk or swarm of butterflies were seen moving across the ground or through the air to get rid of some of the foreboding tension in the warm, late evening air.

Looking behind him, Remus saw that he was standing with his back facing a cliff that went straight down into more trees below him that looked like a smear of brown against the stone white mountains jutting up above him.

The entrance to the cave was leading into a place pitch black that he could not possibly see further into. It was honestly a miracle Dumbledore had found the place at all with the natural concealment surrounding it.

He hesitated to light his wand, knowing that he might not want to reveal himself too early as to not spook the pack inside.

"Who are you?" a gritty, deep voice sounded from behind him suddenly.

Remus instantly whipped around with his hand in his pocket where his wand was to see a man a few inches shorter than him and what appeared to be a few years older standing there. He was filthy, with dirt streaked all over his face so thickly he could not know what his skin tone was without it and torn clothes that were the same mundane colour as the trees around him.

"I am not an enemy," Remus replied as politically as he could, knowing this man would only see aggression in him. "I want to help, to speak to your leader."

The angry expression on his face melted away to an alarming laugh that made Remus's stomach twist in an unpleasant way.

"You want to speak to our leader?" he repeated, harshly grabbing Remus by the arm. "That's yer funeral, mate."

Remus once again didn't reply, nor did he struggle against the nails poking through his sleeve. He needed to truly be as peaceful as he could and save up his energy if it was provoked.

The two of them walked into the cave, and an earthy, damp smell hit his senses immediately.

The cavern had shockingly high ceilings that went dark before Remus could see the top illuminated by the little daylight coming through the entrance, and the floor was rocky and uneven that any person less graceful than him would have slipped and fallen on their slimy surface almost instantly.

As they walked towards a torch near what appeared to be the ending wall, Remus saw at least a dozen other ragged men that we could only assume were werewolves as well looking at him with hatred, greed, curiosity, or a combination of all three.

The torchlight lit up the deeper part of the cave with flickering shadows that made even the most dormant of a rock seem alive, and that didn't help much with his nerves that he was so far succeeding at hiding.

They reached the end of the tunnel cave at last, and what, or who was made visible to Remus was alarming.

There was some sort of odd throne looking platform made with piles of smoothed rocks and dirt, the cleanest surface in all of the filthy cave that the pack was living in.

Sitting on top was Fenrir Greyback.

The man seemed to be stuck between werewolf and human states, with enormous pupils that drowned out almost his entire eyes in a merciless black and dark grey hair that crept up onto his face and formed a coat like beard. His teeth were permanently pointed as he gave Remus a cold smile with recognition.