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Ticket to Ten Thousand Galleons


Severus Snape watched from a distance with Regulus and Barty both by his side as Kreacher disapparated from the edge of the grass to the space beneath the Whomping Willow’s branches with a click of his fingers. The elf ran his hands along the roots of the tree carefully. It was odd, Severus thought, because he couldn’t see a door there, but he could see Kreacher casting the spells against the wood. His eyebrows cinched together and he wondered what exactly the door led to, and who it was that used it…

When Kreacher reapparated by their sides once more, Fenrir Greyback walked over to where the lot of them stood. “Go on to the Dark Lord now,” Greyback commanded. “Tell my Lord that we will have Sirius Black before the night is ended!” He grinned wickedly.

“Yes sir,” Severus said lowly.

Greyback and Druella walked swiftly away, ducking down among rock and brush and Severus turned to Regulus and Barty. He took a deep breath, his eyes swiveling from one to the other, nerve-filled… The elf held out his arms for them to take hold on… Severus’s eyes met Regulus’s. “Remember,” he muttered lowly, “Keep your wits about you. Too much emotion and you’ll be exposed.”

Regulus nodded.

And with that, they all grabbed onto Kreacher’s arms… and he disappeared, taking the three young wizards with him.




Fenrir Greyback lay in wait in a small cluster of trees, mere feet away from the Whomping Willow in the shadows of the castle. He peered over a rock, waiting, heart hammering in his chest. He glanced up at the castle, right at the headmaster’s office, which was in a high turret room looming far above.. Luckily, a light rain was falling, a low layer of grey clouds affording them a bit of a cover from errant glances from the auror, Moody. Druella crouched beside him, sniffing a leaf she’d plucked from a tree nearby, ripping it and licking the edge where the leaf was bleeding it’s moisture, a contemplative look about her face. “This is a funny plant,” she muttered, “I’ve never seen -- could be useful in that draught I’ve been working on…”

“Shhh,” Fenrir hissed waving his hand at her. “Here we are… Come along, little snack...”

Through the mist that fell over the grounds came Remus Lupin, stumbling down the hill. Fenrir could see the boy, struggling along with a rucksack slung about him, his trainers slipping on loose rock and mud as he crossed down the slope from the castle. He was carefully watching the ground as he moved to the edge of the grass, looking about for a rock to use to freeze the Whomping Willow’s branches. His blonde hair hung, stringy from the rain, criss-crossing over his forehead, a fatigued sort of air about him.

Fenrir looked ‘round behind him at Druella Black. “Do you smell that?” he whispered, “That’s the smell of our ticket to ten thousand galleons...” He watched as Remus took up a rock and tossed it toward the knots in the Whomping Willow. A grin spread over Fenrir’s face as Remus threw the rock and it fell far short of it’s target. Remus sank to the grass, catching his breath as he scrabbled for a second rock to try again. “Poor ickle thing is weak…”

“Go get him, my love,” Druella sing-songed, laying a palm across Fenrir’s spine, raising herself up to her knees. She reached into her pocket and withdrew a vial of violet potion, a smile spread across her face, “I’ll be ready.”

Fenrir pushed himself off from the rock he was leaning against and snuck away through the trees, rounding the Whomping Willow so that he was coming up from behind the boy…

Remus’s face was hot with fever and he was dizzy. He was regretting not accepting James’s offer to get him safely to the Shack, and held his forehead in his hands. The mist felt really good against his hot skin as he struggled to get a deep breath into his lungs. He rocked himself forward so that he was on his hands and knees and took up another rock, tossing it toward the knot on the tree. It struck, stopping the waving of the branches, and he crawled thankfully toward it across the grass, his knees getting wet from the rain.

But the tunnel wasn’t open when he got to the foot of the tree. His brow furrowed in concern and he pressed his palms against the roots, trying to push aside the one that blocked the tunnel. “What the bloody hell? Move tree!” he begged, pushing… pushing… not a budge. He reached up and pressed his palm to the knot again, but the tunnel still didn’t move…

He hadn’t quite gotten to the point of panic - though it was coming on quickly - when a shadow cast over him from behind, silhouetting against the tree’s bark. He started to turn when a dirty, hand clamped onto his hair, pulling him up from the ground roughly. Remus scrambled, trying to pull away, a small part of him hoping it was Sirius playing a joke… but the wrenching of the grip was too rough, and he could smell the coppery edge of blood on the air, making his stomach flip… Remus let out a cry, “No! No, please!” He was jerked back against a hard, wide chest and dragged backwards, hoisted so his feet only just barely scraped the earth as he struggled weakly against the tight grip as a second arm wrapped about his stomach, lifting him up and pulling him away from the tree, just as the branches started to twitch and reanimate.

“There we go, lit’l snack, don’t you be fightin’ me, or --,” Greyback laughed quietly under his breath, “Well, already bit you, haven’t I?” he chuckled. “Scream and I’ll tear your jugular out with my teeth and drink your blood like a fine wine. You do smell delectable… Luckily, we’re only goin’ to need you for a small piece before I can have my feast of you... Just long ‘nough to lure your lit’l friend out of hidin’ so we can be gettin’ our ten thousand galleons… Been waitin’ twelve years to get a second bite out of you, haven’t I? Suppose a little piece longer is worth the galleons.”

Remus was trying desperately to wrench away, but Fenrir’s grip was harsh and tight and the rain made Remus’s trainers slip so he couldn’t get any good ground and Fenrir pulled his neck as far back as it would go. “Sirius knows your plot and he won’t come. Besides, he’s too far away! Half a planet away! In Costa Rica!” Remus lied, his voice a gasp.

Fenrir clucked in his ear, “It’s not very nice to tell nasty lies. Ain’t anybody never told you that before?”

“I’m not - I’m not lying,” Remus said, struggling still, praying somebody would look out the windows of the castle and see… he’d never hoped to be seen on a full moon day before…

“You are,” Greyback hissed, “I can smell him on you. All over you.” He pressed his nose deep into Remus’s neck, pressed his teeth right to the skin around Remus’s adam’s apple, which bobbed and pulsed with nerves and Greyback laughed, his teeth pressing just enough to make Remus wince, “Probably like that, don’t you? Having my mouth on your neck like that… Is it like your boyfriend does it?” he hissed, pulling away. He threw Remus down to the dirt suddenly, roughly, so that Rey’s back slammed into the mud and the wind blew out of him. Fenrir grinned and snapped his teeth at Remus as the boy gasped for air. “It’s okay, ickle lit’l pup… I’ll tell the pack to be gentle on you.” Fenrir laughed horribly as Remus struggled to sit up, then, seeing he’d nearly done it, he landed a kick to his chest, flattening him back to the ground with just enough pressure to keep him from trying to sit up again.

Druella crawled over and opened the little vial, “Here we are --” she murmured, “Wolfsbane potion. Keep you from turning ‘til we can get you secured…” And she poured the violet potion down Remus’s throat so that he gagged on it. He tried to spit it out, but she caught him at it before he could and clamped her palm over his mouth, her fingers curling up to plug up his nose, forcing him to swallow it down.

Remus was still coughing on the Wolfsbane when Fenrir roughly flipped him over. “Incarcerous!” a ghostly golden smoke wound it’s way about Remus, pulling his arms behind him, securing them tightly to his waist. When he was properly tied, Fenrir yanked him to his feet, shoved a thick cloth into Remus’s mouth and looked him in the eye. “C’mon, Lit’l Snack… let’s see how long it takes your ickle boyfriend to come for you then.” And he raised his wand, aiming it directly into Remus’s face. “Stupefy.”

Remus slumped forward.

Druella cackled and reached for his hair, yanking a good chunk of it out with her fist and pulled an envelope from her pocket. She dropped the hair into the envelope, quickly folded the flap closed and whistled shrilly. A sleek white speckled owl with sharp yellow eyes swept from the sky and she happily tied the note to the bird’s ankle. “There. Deliver that to the blood traitor, Sirius Black.”




It was nearly two and still no sign of Remus. Sirius paced the floor by the trapdoor in the Shack, his hands wringing. He glanced at the clock on the wall. “Where are you at, Moony?” he muttered and, unable to wait another moment without going mad, Sirius pulled up the trapdoor, drawing his wand from his pocket, and dropped into the tunnel. “Lumos,” he said and the blue-white of his wand filled the tunnel. “Moony?” he called and he started walking through the dark.

Behind him, an owl rapped on the window of the shack with his beat… but there was none there to hear it.

Sirius walked the full length of the tunnel, expecting to find Remus sitting and resting somewhere along the way on the ground… but he reached the far end without sight of him and his worry peaked. “Where the bloody hell are ya, mate?” he muttered, and he pulled the lever on the door at the Whomping Willow, but it refused to budge. His eyebrows narrowed. “Hullo?” he called out, confused. “What the devil…” he yanked and pulled on the lever - doing and undoing it, hoping it was just stuck… but no… it refused…

Well what if it was doing that from the outside? Sirius worried. Finally, he drew his wand and aimed at the space where a door out of the dark ought to have been. “Reducto!”

There was a horrible sound of the tree shrieking in anger at the injury before the branch-hands ripped the rubble away with an angry air, tossing the broken pieces aside. He pulled the lever again and the tree froze and Sirius poked his head up out of the ground, looking about. There was nothing to evident that Remus had been there at all. His eyes travelled up to the castle.

At the start of term, Remus had fallen asleep in the dormitory.

He’d been late going to the shack then, too…

If James hadn’t woken him, he never would’ve woken on his own… and he would’ve torn the school and all the students in it apart as a wolf… Sirius had had to rush to help keep him from destroying the grounds then.

“Bloody hell, Rey,” Sirius turned and started up the path toward the school - no cloak, no map, no protection… He’d be sent off for sure for this, but Remus would never forgive himself if anyone got hurt… and so he started running through the mud and rain toward the entrance stairs… He was halfway up them when an unfamiliar owl fluttered down in his path, striking out its leg.

Sirius stared at the bird and, presuming it was a message from Remus, he shook his head and reached for the envelope. The moment it had been disconnected, the bird puffed up into thick black smoke and disappeared. “What in hell was that?!” He looked at the envelope clutched in his hand, then back to the place where the bird had just been.

Quickly, nervousness building - a feeling something like forehadow flooded Sirius’s eyes as he tore open the paper.

He undid the flap of the envelope, and they sort of abandoned him there on the stairs to Hogwarts dorms,… and he turned over the card in his palm. Number 12 Grimmauld Place, the card said, in his father’s handwriting, and Sirius felt his stomach lurch.

There was something else in the envelope, too, he realized, and he shoved the little card into his pocket until and turned over the envelope.

Something fell out from the bottom of the envelope into his palm….

A thick lock of dirty-brown curly hair.

“Remus,” he whispered.