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Between Worlds by mischief managed

Format: Novel
Chapters: 8
Word Count: 10,871
Status: WIP

Rating: 15+
Warnings: Mild Language, Strong Violence, Scenes of a Mild Sexual Nature, Sensitive Topic/Issue/Theme, Contains Spoilers

Genres: Drama, Horror/Dark, Action/Adventure
Characters: Dumbledore, Hagrid, Lupin, Snape, Sirius, Lily, James, Regulus, Pettigrew, OC
Pairings: James/Lily, Snape/Lily, Remus/OC, Sirius/OC, Other Pairing

First Published: 11/12/2007
Last Chapter: 07/14/2008
Last Updated: 07/14/2008


In 1965 Remus Lupin was kidnapped and bitten by Fenrir Greyback.  

In 1971, Dumbledore opens Hogwarts' gates to half-human witches and wizards for the first time since Hagrid was expelled.  

It doesn't take being part-human to live Between Worlds.  Seven children have thier own reasons and thier decisions will shape the future.  They stand on the cusp of a bright new world of tolerance until Voldmort rises. 

Chapter 1: Kidnapped
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This story contains many original concepts and charactors.  J.K. Rowling owns her charactors and situations, this story and all original content are mine.  If you would like to borrow something, feel free to ask...I might actually say yes. :)  

Thank you to my beta reader bluemoon.

Note: Our story opens on the second night of a three night full moon. 

Between Worlds:

Chapter 1 – Kidnapped

A Harry Potter Fanfic

by Vampiremouse



A week ago, the portly, grey-haired wizard had admired the brand new sign on his door.

That had been a good day. Today it was not such a good day.

The evening edition was late, and it was late because John Lupin was nowhere to be found. Amos stormed out of his office “Where in hell is that Muggleborn...gave him a chance, I did, first Muggleborn at this damn paper and this is how he repays me...”

Tiffany at the reception desk looked up from her mini-fireplace set, hands permanently stained in green Floo powder. “Got a Floo call from his wife, she said it was urgent, transferred it over to his mini-Floo, and then he just grabbed a handful of MY powder without a by-your-leave and was gone.”

Amos stalked over to the office fireplace. “The Prophet's Floo Floo powder since I am the editor-in-chief,” he corrected with a glare at the girl.

The girl, wisely kept her mouth shut and went back to sucking on a sugar quill

“Lupin Residence” Longbottom snarled clearly, and waited a moment for the fireplaces to connect.

He stuck his head in the flame to find a scene of disarray, a weeping wife, and no John Lupin.

“Ahem...Mrs. Lupin is that you” Amos grumbled.

“Yes...oh I'm sorry, didn't hear the Floo calling,” the woman sniffed, trying belatedly to dry her eyes and pull herself together.

“This is Amos Longbottom from the paper. I can see this is a time of some distress but I need to speak to your husband immediately.”

“He isn't here, Mr. Longbottom”

“Where can I find him then? I have an evening edition to print and your husband, who I was open-minded enough to hire, is HOLDING ME UP.” Amos was still trying to be reasonable, before the obviously distraught woman, but what little patience he had was fast running out. He stormed through the appature directly into the family living room.

“Then its your paper that will be late, or printed without him!...My husband is out there right now because a story YOU sent him to cover got our son kidnapped and mauled by a werewolf. Is that what you want to hear? Are you going to stand by us now, be more open-minded, Mr. Longbottom, or are you going to blame it on my five-year old son?”

The half-hysterical woman shoved a crumpled, tear-stained note into his hands which he read with horror.

You are about to learn a lesson Lupin, about what happens to nosy Mudbloods who look into corners of the world they are NOT WELCOME IN. You will stop investigating the affairs of your betters and become a nice tame little reporter or you will never see your little boy again. He has some injuries that probably need addressing, so tasty young flesh. Normally I like to raise these young ones into the glory of werewolf living, but in this case an infected son will keep you rather busy. Bring your so-called evidence to wizard's bluff, if you ever want to see your little werewolf again

Fenrir Greyback

--------Scene Break--------

At that very moment, John Lupin stood on a rapidly darkening bluff with a folder in cold, shaking hands. His sandy-blond hair, hastily fastened cloak,  and work robe blew randomly in the breeze; hem and office slippers soaked by the winter snow.

"Throw your wand away" a voice growled. It had been years but John Lupin recognized that hateful voice despite its new deeper timbre and animalistic demeanor.

"Hello Fenrir." The reporter watched his adversary emerge from the shadows. Lupin glanced nervously at the sky, the setting sun, the soon to be rising moon.

"Lupin," the werewolf answered, scratching absent mindedly at his arms and face, "So good to see you many years since our mutual animosity at Hogwarts. Did you wonder why I left?" The werewolf stretched his face up toward the sky in a combination of anticipation and mild discomfort. He rubbed at finger tips that lengthened and sharpened, before Lupin's facinated yet horrified eyes. Then the beast smiled with false commradery, opening his mouth so that the sharpening teeth gleamed blood red in the diminishing light. He deliberately bit into his own lip turning illusion into reality.

John shivered again and it had nothing to do with being cold.

"I can control the change...speed it up...or slow it down. Even choose when to kill. Not all my pack are so...skilled," Greyback purred, removing his outer garments to welcome the night. Only then was Lupin aware of the other werewolves surrounding him. Some looked eager and hungry, others looked sick and anxious, but he had no doubt he was surrounded by creatures that in only a few short moments would consider him prey whether their human selves agreed or not. He heard the crack of Apparation and three skull-masked wizards circled him on broomsticks with wands at the ready.

The sun set in a glory of reds, yellow, gold and pink, but John Lupin was oblivious to the glory. He sadly lowered his wand and threw it into a distinctive snowbank. What other choice did he have? He lowered the folder to the ground and a hissing voice said, “Accio Folder” before it zoomed into a waiting hand.

"Enjoy your plaything Greyback," the masked figure said, before Apparating. The remaining aerial guards stayed.

"So fitting, that one named for the wolf should become one...a fate I am happy to honor your son with." The werewolf smirked, stretching almost sensuously into the thin slivers of moonlight. He took off his shirt displaying the now inflamed bite scar with pride and reverence. As the moments went on Greyback scratched at his skin and each sharp claw sent bloody tracks along his flesh, that healed in lines of fur.

Anger burned through Lupin's body a rage he had kept in check for years. He hated Greyback, back when he was a Slytherin in school to John Lupin's Gryffindor, back when his blasted pure-blooded parents had sneared at the Mudblood and threatened Vera for spurning Fenrir for a boy of 'low-birth'. Now Fenrir was outwardly the monster he had always been inside. He wanted to rend this beast limb from limb, take him down before the transformation was complete...he tried to focus, nothing mattered but saving Remus. Even if the poor boy was infected now, he was still his son.

"Where is my son?" Lupin growled at the other man, hoping to get through this melodrama while Greyback was still human enough to answer.

"Still want him now that he is a beast? Hurting, hungry and far too young to understand...pity" The werewolf laughed, but the laugh turned to a wince that left Greyback clutching at his visibly shifting ribcage.

"What's the matter Greyback, conscience getting to you?" Lupin bluffed to disguise his nervousness, he knew the moon was about to rise.

"No, only the moon approaching, but these transient annoyances will soon pass, and I will revel in the gift of Mother Luna" He breathed reverently

"Where is my son Greyback?" Lupin was almost frantic now, the werewolf's posture had shifted, his limbs and face were changing. John still had no idea how to reach Remus, who, judging from the looks of the other werewolves, was probably feeling pretty uncomfortable right about now.

"Come on Fenrir, you want me to be horrified by my own son, to have to deal with a monster in my family, a dark secret, or maybe you want him to bite me. You can't control the entire pack around fresh meat get them out of here and leave me with Remus.”

"A also serves as a key to your son's chains," Fenrir hissed, "Beg for it, Lupin." He tossed it onto the ground, lightly burying it with one half transformed paw.

Terrified, humiliated and angry, John Lupin got down on his knees in freezing snow, before a half-human monster of a man amidst a circle of werewolves, and begged for the literal and figurative key to reaching his suffering, incurably cursed son.

Even as the reporter reached for the Portkey, the monster above him continued to change, lingering menacingly above his head.   Lupin dug with half-frozen hands, feeling the hot breath and drool dripping onto his skin.  He shuddered, not daring to look up or react, there were only one way out of this mess.   

John trembled, his breath coming in panting clouds, hearing the mixture of laughter and howls along with the beginnings of other transformations. Just when all hope seemed lost and it was time to bid his family, and the world goodbye, he saw the dim glow.   Heart pounding, ears closed desperately against a cacophany of pained moans, terrifying screams and even more chilling laughter, John grasped the key between shaking hands, until with a wrench at his navel, he found himself in darkness.


Authors Note: Thank you for reading my story, I would appreciate honest and constructive reviews even if you hate it ;)

Chapter 2: Desperate Measures
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 WARNING: This chapter contains morally difficult content.  Remember these are the actions of a desperate man.  If you are easily offended you may want to walk away. 

Note: The mispellings are deliberate to indicate the speach of a young child.


Between Worlds

Chapter 2 -

Desperate Measures

A Harry Potter Fanfiction

By Vampiremouse/Mischief Managed


John Lupin was in a damp, dark, putrid smelling cave. He had no wand, only a port key that was supposed to release his son from chains. The door behind him was bared by solid stone. Without a wand to cast reducto it would be difficult to remove although it would at least protect them from the rampaging werewolf pack without. Unfortunately, Remus was in this cave newly infected with lycanthropy from the previous night's full moon, wounded, frightened and possibly about to attack his wandless father.

He ran through the cave listening intently. To the right the sound of a crying child. Remus.

“Remus, son can you hear me?” he shouted

“Daddy, is it weally you?” The little boy called weakly

John Lupin rounded the corner to find his son wounded but in human form...had Greyback lied.

“Its me son”

Mr. Lupin crept cautiously closer to Remus, noticing the tattered clothing, the shining silver chains around his limbs, and the collar encircling his son's throat. The boy scratched absent-mindedly at skin that looked red and irritated, was it just from the bonds and nervousness, or fur trying to break through. The reporter couldn't see an obvious bite mark from here only the deep, curving, parallel scratches of werewolf claws. Those would be difficult to heal but not infectious, like a bite. Remus was in obvious discomfort, but that could as easily be from his wounds and captivity as impending transformation.

John Lupin needed to know whether or not to free his son, but he didn't dare get any closer. He hovered at the edge of Remus's range, contemplating the key in his outstretched hand. He edged closer coming within range of, what could at any moment, be snapping jaws.

“How do you feel, Remus?” he asked cautiously

“It huwts Daddy, evweting hewts” The boy hunched over in obvious pain, John could not see an obvious bite wound at this distance or definitive signs of transformation, but he was very, very worried.

“Did he bite you, Remus?”

“Daddy...” the little voice whispered.

“I have to know, Remus, DID THE WOLF BITE YOU?”

“Yes, Daddy” The tiny voice answered

John Lupin jumped back in shock. He did not dare free the child, not now.

His ever perceptive son caught the horror in his father's exclamation. The instant rejection he could not quite hide.

“I love you son, I still love you” he said, crying despite any pretense to a masculine image.

“Why are you cr-why-ing Daddy?” the sensitive child, instantly forgot about his own discomfort, and hurt feelings, in the face of his father's anguish.

“Because I have to leave you in chains son, even though they are silver and hurting you terribly. You were bitten by a werewolf son, do you know what that is?” John Lupin asked, while tearing strips from his robe to cushion Remus's restraints.  It was the only thing he could do.


“Yes Remus, a monster like the one that bit you last night, tonight is also a full moon, and now the same thing is starting to happen to you...its a little slower, I think, because we are in this cave away from the moonlight...but you are turning into a werewolf son.” Mr, Lupin stuffed the cloth around his son's collar, noting the points growing on his ears and the difference in the pupils of his eyes. He shivered just thinking about the sharp teeth the boy hopefully hadn't developed yet.

“I want to wake up Daddy,” the boy said, finger nails lengthening into claws even as his father frantically worked to pad both wrists.

“This isn't a dream. I'm sorry son.”

“Daddy I'm so hungwy.” The little boy looked up with him with pleading eyes that were already turning yellow. Remus licked his lips, showing teeth that had indeed sharpened perceptibly. The boy clutched at his stomach, with hands that were no longer quite hands, piercing his own flesh with razor sharp claws.

Desperately John Lupin quested for something, anything, to ease the combination of starvation and wolfish hunger that was torturing his son.

"Hang on son, just hang on." Somehow he had to finish padding the boy's ankles.

In a moment of sickened revelation, he found the first body and realized the werewolves had a stockpile of ready corpses. He saw a human arm, disconnected from a body, and hating himself for the action he tossed it to the child. His son tried to retch and consume at the same time but the emerging blood lust won out. The boy stretched out in the chains, spine and limbs shifting, groaning and sometimes screaming with the pain and then returning to hunger his precious child consumed a human arm. By the time both ankles were padded only a finger remained and his poor still partially human child looked up at him apologetically and asked for more. Then he could no longer speak only whimper, bark, and howl. Yet still he tried to avoid attacking his father, whimpering in hunger.

Mr. Lupin retreated far out of reach and tossed a leg bone. Remus could barely resist attacking the hand that fed him now and John wisely stayed well out of reach. The boy's puppy jaws were still too weak to crack the bones open for marrow. The young wolf shoved the first bone over to his father pleading with whines, and barely human eyes, for assistance. Remus seemed to be fading in and out of the wolf's mind. The puppy would growl and start getting aggressive as John approached, then retreat with panicked whimpers toward his ever growing pile of bones, gnawing the urge to attack into uneasy submission.

---------to be continued-------------

Honest reviews are greatly appreciated

Chapter 3: Bones for the Beast
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Disclaimer: I still own my stuff, Rowling still owns all the rest of it. In the unlikely event this ever gives me any money, everything belonging to her will have to part ways with everything belonging to me. Back in the real world, of er, fanfiction...shall we just get on with the story ;)

Note: This chapter gives parts of the previous scene from the Wolf's perspective.


Between Worlds -

Part 3

Bones for the Beast


Mischief Managed




The werewolf knew the scent of this man very well, he smelled like pack, but also like prey. It confused the beast’s mind and his growl changed to one of query, then back to a growl again.

The human threw meat to the wolf. It was prey meat, clear and simple prey, without the scent of pack to confuse him. He sniffed at it cautiously. Dead meat.

Where was the warm dripping life his throat craved?

The meat was at least fresh. It satisfied his need to chew and rip at something. The wolf's rage calmed. The prey meat slid down his throat and started to fill the cavernous emptiness of his belly. He chewed and swallowed and chewed and swallowed until there was nothing but bone left. Then his tongue scrapped the bone for scraps, chewing on it brought contentment but his puppy jaws, while dangerous, were not strong enough to reach the tantalizing marrow within. He needed to run in the moonlight, to chase and hunt and rip and consume his prey.

He threw himself against, the chains straining then whimpering when the silver brushed his vulnerable paw. The human voice spoke, firmly but soothingly at him. After long moments of pain and rage he understood that somehow lying down would take the pain away. He lay down still growling and licked his injured paw, he could taste some of his own blood and began worrying at the injured paw with his teeth.

The pack-man spoke sharply almost like a growl. The wolf whimpered, then growled back.

He looked at the human pleadingly. More meat, so hungry, must chew. Paw hurts, He tried to add, almost as an afterthought

The human vanished for a moment making odd whimpering sounds to himself, and the wolf howled, feeling abandoned. Where was pack-man, where was meat-giver? He was so hungry.

There was no meat left, only empty bones. Each time meat-giver left, the wolf eventually understood, pack-man would return with more meat. And so hours passed, the wolf found himself, no longer ravenous, but almost content. The meat filled his stomach, the blood covered his lips, and when the urge to chew struck there were plenty of bones to chew on. Still he could not run, or feel the moonlight on his skin, and these were things the wolf longed for.

He rolled a well chewed bone in the man's direction hoping meat-giver would understand what the wolf most wanted. Open bone, want marrow. He whimpered chewing frantically at another bone to demonstrate the problem.

The human cautiously took the bone, watching the wolf for any signs of impending attack.

The wolf gave a happy bark.

At last the pack-man seemed to understand, using a rock to accomplish what puppy jaws could not, and rolled the sweet marrow back to his son.

The wolf wagged his tail. Marrow taste very good

The werewolf puppy was as close to content, as a cruelly chained canine, with murderous appetites, and a human soul could manage. The chains that held it still burned, but the human it refused to attack, had put cloth between the burning metal, and the puppy’s vulnerable flesh, so that only bits and pieces of it touched him. When they did, he yelped in pain, growling and whimpering at the same time. The pain brought with it a murderous rage and the puppy hurt itself worse as it moved without care for its bonds. When this happened the man would talk slowly to him from his unreachable spot across the room, until the puppy calmed and lay down again. Sometimes if the wolf was exceptionally placid, the meat-giver would carefully adjust the cushioning on his restraints or even rub the wolf’s fur for just a moment, until a warning growl sent him away.

Hours passed like this, until suddenly the wolf began to feel rather dizzy and all his senses became unstable. He whined low in his throat and shook his shaggy head but the odd feeling soon returned. He whimpered at the meat-giver but refused more food, it smelled funny now. Feeling ill, the puppy pushed even the bones away and whimpered some more. There were random flashes of color in his black and white world and a terrible weakness in his limbs. He felt hot, his mouth was dry, his head hurt, his teeth hurt, his paws, his eyes, his ears. The werewolf began trembling uncontrollably, his skin twitching, his muscles quivering. He rolled over on his side panting heavily with his dry tongue lolling out of his mouth

The puppy growled-half heartedly, as the pack-man approached, no longer having the energy to be fierce. He wanted only comfort now.

The man spoke to him again in that calm, gentle voice. He rubbed the wolf's aching limbs, patted his burning fur, and dribbled water down his dry throat. He soothed the confused, suffering, beast while the aches became agony and the trembling became convultions. Finally at the last, when his consciousness was fading the wolf, the boy, finally understood.

"I love you son," The pack-man said, his father was the pack-man. "I love you, Remus." His name was Remus, and this was his father.

"Dad," he croaked, before the world went black.

------------To be Continued----------------

I've debated back and forth about whether John Lupin would risk getting within biting distance of Remus, before he starts changing back. I finally decided to leave that part in and let the readers decide what they thought of it.  All reviews are greatly appreciated. 

Thanks again to bluemoon/shivy for betareading

Chapter 4: Pictures and Memories
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Special thanks to my beta readers bluemoon and becca venable.

Disclaimer: In the unlikely event that I become an actual published author,  everything created by JKR will have to part ways with everything created by me.  Back in the real world fiction shall we go read a story ;)
Between Worlds
A Marauders Era Fan Fiction
Mischief Managed aka

Chapter 4: Pictures and Memories


Amos Longbottom was sincerely lost in thought. He hated to see a woman of pureblood cry, even if she had been foolish enough to marry beneath her station. He had to admit John Lupin was a fine wizard, a fine worker, and, perhaps, even a fine human being; but for the daughter of Imogene Malfoy and Asmodious Montgomery to fall so far, it was just tragic.

"Daily Prophet" Amos screamed into the Lupin fireplace, throwing the green powder so hard that the resulting explosive reaction splattered him in greenish ash. He brushed off his clothes and skin with disgust, growling while he waited for the image to form.

"Daily Prophet office, where can I transfer you Floo..." Tiffany answered in her usual sickeningly neutral tones before the connection was even fully operational. "Oh its you Mr. L..." She paused to smack on her Droobles second-best blowing gum and took in Longbottom's expression. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing...Everything. Just transfer me to Cuffe, girl. I don't have time for your chatter." Amos answered trying and failing not to take the stressful situation out on the young receptionist.


Tiffany's fingers dipped into the green powder on her desk and with a rapid twirl of her fingers over the mini-Floo he found himself speaking to Barnabus Cuffe.


Young Rita Skeeter was just climbing out from under Cuffe's desk. Amos cleared his throat, really hoping she'd just dropped a pencil under there. Cuffe jumped at the interruption but composed himself rather quickly, if indeed anything untoward had been going on.

"Barnabus, it's Longbottom, I will be unavoidably detained this evening in pursuit of an important development."


"Detained," Cuffe's eyebrows rose as he pondered that statement.

"Yes, I need you to pull the evening edition I had waiting for Lupin's piece, move Oddpick's op-ed to page 3, and put in that article by Cornelius Fudge we were saving for the morning edition on page 1."


"I told you not to let a Mudblood onto staff," Cuffe sneered, "Your little experiment let you down, how tragic."

"Zip it, Barnabus." Longbottom returned, his lips turned up in the ghost of a smile at the blush that come to Cuffe's face.

"We're swapping things around, Lupin gets page 3 on the morning edition. Oh, and Skeeter you're up; quarter page on 7 evening edition, fill the gap, girl, this is your break! Mush, Mush! we have less then an hour till press time." With that Amos broke the Floo connection and returned to unpleasant reality, where, come morning, he expected to report either a dramatic rescue or the death of the Lupin's only son.


He turned around to find Vera Lupin, waiting patiently for him to finish the call.


As befit a properly bred woman, she had taken a few moments to compose herself, banishing tears, red eyes, and hysterics to their proper time and place: away from guests.


She held a tea tray to almost disguise the tremor in her hands and even a hastily donned cheering charm had barely brought a cordial smile to her lips.


As a properly bred guest he did not call these things to her attention, accepting the illusion of an informal social call that they both knew this was not.


"Tea, Mr. Longbottom?" She asked quietly.


He accepted with a gracious smile and sipped the delightful beverage as the tonic it would have to be. One thing to be said for Vera Lupin, even half out of her mind with grief and worry, she made wonderful tea. He would have to remember that fact under happier circumstances.


"Delightful tea," He remarked, judging this a safe conversation.


"Yes, even Remus has developed a taste for it." She choked at the mention of her son then pulled herself together. "I'll go get us something to eat," she murmured, slinking off to lose her composure in the kitchen instead of in front of Amos.


So much for safe conversations, he thought dryly.


To pass the time, he glanced at the combination of wizarding and Muggle photos on the mantle. John Lupin charming a miniature red train to fly before a laughing Vera and a delighted little boy with dark blond hair and warm brown eyes. John and Vera in Muggle attire aboard what appeared to be a small ship, an older man with a strong resemblance to John at the wheel. A wizarding photo with Muggles abounding, Amos couldn't help but laugh at the incongruity. Just as the photo was ready to cycle round John wandered out of focus laughing and an older woman with a cheery smile darted into the frame. Beautiful sea in that picture, he would have to ask John where it was taken.

Amos finished his cup of tea and still Vera Lupin had not returned, ostensibly with food. He meandered over to another set of pictures and realized why the woman seemed vaguely familiar, he had gone to Hogwarts with her parents. This further complicated an already impossible situation. 

She was not just a woman of his social class, despite her marriage choices; this could no longer be about his admittedly good impressions of John Lupin, now the entire situation was infinitely more complex. 

Staring out of the photo frame was the slightly time-tarnished visage of Imogene Malfoy. One-quarter Veela to the pleasure and shame of every boy at Hogwarts.  Imogene had been something, and Amos sighed in fond remembrance of taking, the most desired fifth year in school, to the Halloween dance, to Hogsmeade, to his parents house for the holidays...where there brief romance had been put to a most definite end. 

In a tiny corner of his soul the wound still stung, but his parents had been right, damn them, he was much better with a proper pureblood, one without the pale-blond hair and even a trace of Veela wiles, still for one brief year he had been in love. 

With a savage start he tore aside the mists of memory to find Vera standing in the doorway. Vera who was the daughter he might have had, who carried a trace of her mother's effortless beauty even with eyes red from crying. 


For those with sharp eyes, yes that was several members of the future Prophet staff and a future minister of magic ;)

Amos is really in a pickle. What can he publish on page 3 tomarrow morning, and will he decide to stand by the Lupins when Remus's fate is revealed.  The next chapter is back with John and Remus, so the answer will have to wait <evil laugh>

This chapter was recently corrected to make Imogene 1/4th Veela rather then the physically impossible 1/6th.  I can not believe I didn't notice that problem before now.  

This would make Vera's mother the same percentage Veela as Fleur, with Vera herself being 1/8th Veela like Victorie.  Remus ends up a VERY dilluted 1/16th Veela, which would hardly matter, except it does make the eventual marriage of Teddy Lupin (1/32) Veela with the (1/8th) Veela Victorie somewhat interesting...just something to ponder MUCH further down the road <whistles innocently at her readers>.     

Thank you for reading

Thank you for reading

Chapter 5: End of Innocence
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Disclaimer: In the unlikely event that I ever make any money from this, everything that is mine will have to part with anything that is actually part of J.K.R.'s intellectual property rights.  Back in the real world of ...uh fanfiction, you guessed it...its time to read a story.

A/N:  For those who may not have reread chapter one, I have retroactively established that John Lupin has a cloak.  It was that or steal clothes, for Remus, from a corpse. I'm already being mean enough to them.  ;)

The begining of this scene overlaps with chapter 3.    

Thank you again to Becca and Shivy for betareading and to all my wonderful readers and reviewers.  Even those of you who haven't spoken up yet ;)  Padfooty, SBSL, its your fault I just extended this chapter beyond its original ending point ;)  And I believe there were a few others looking for extra angsty emotion.  Let me know if you still want more in the earlier chapters after this ;)  There has been a bit added to chapter one also.

If you are easily offended by difficult subjects or realistic moments that may be a bit may want to turn back now.

Between Worlds

A Marauders Era Fanfic


mischief managed

John Lupin had no window to look at the moonset and, because of this, the reverse transformation came as something of a surprise. The young wolf shook his head, over and over again, and whimpered. The puppy refused all food, rolling even the bones away. He trembled, twitched, and shook; turning glassy, frightened eyes on his father, and promptly fell over on his side, panting heavily.

John could not wait a moment longer, this was still his son. The puppy tried to growl, so weak that the shaggy head barely left the ground. The wolf's heart was racing, his fur dry and brittle with fever. John stroked the wolf's trembling limbs, patted the puppy's laboring sides, and took the risk of dripping a bit of water toward the creature's mouth. He spoke to the boy, just platitudes promising it would all be over soon.


The wolf's fur was matted with perspiration; it came off in clumps in his father's hands. The puppy moaned and whimpered constantly between desperate pants.


The fur was almost gone now, blanketing John Lupin and the ground on which, Remus' sobbing father, knelt. And then the werewolf's entire body was convulsing, shifting, changing. The beast's incessant cries turned more and more human until John Lupin could stand it no more and cried out, hugging, the still trembling, but almost human form.


" I love you son, I love you, Remus."


The boy's eyes opened for just a moment, and John Lupin might have been deluding himself that his son had actually answered.

The boy was now human, his clothing shredded, his body battered and burned where the silver restraints had touched him. John reached for the dual-purpose Portkey and freed the boy from his bonds. He cleaned and bandaged the worst of Remus' injuries and wrapped the boy in his cloak. The fever was fading and the boy seemed to be healing rapidly as he slept, but with so many injuries he was happy for the paltry supply of healing potions in his robe pocket. He carefully raised the boy's head to dribble a healing potion down Remus' throat. Now John Lupin had one final task, he had to dispose of the bones...perhaps Remus would not remember.

With that grisly task completed, the reporter finally closed his eyes.


Several hours passed before a nearby groan broke Mr. Lupin's uneasy slumber.


"Welcome back, son." John Lupin peered down at Remus, as the boy's eyes slowly opened.


"Daddy," Remus answered, astonished at the roughness of his own voice and the odd metallic taste in his mouth.


"I've got some water and a healing potion for you," Mr. Lupin stated, helping the boy to sit up against a wall.


The sudden movement put whirling black specks in Remus' vision and started a dull throb in his head. He felt nauseous and the metallic taste in his mouth was making it worse. His stomach heaved. Remus managed to turn his head, before retching up several globs of bloody meat onto the cave floor. Mr. Lupin cleaned the boy's face with water, tearing off yet another strip of his work robe, and pushed the disgusting mess aside.


"Sawy Daddy," Remus mumbled faintly.


"Its okay, son, does your tummy feel better now?"


"Pwease move Daddy," the little boy answered, vomiting a second time as John Lupin wisely jumped out of the way.


The five-year old boy starred in a combination of disgust and fascination at the perfect human toe, complete with pedicure, his wolf-self had consumed...that was the moment foggy memories became real.


Father and son stared at the unmistakable evidence in silence. John Lupin sighed, all his work had been in vain.


The little boy's stomach heaved again, this time purely in reaction, as the tears poured down his face.


John Lupin tilted the tiny, blood-stained face up to meet his own.


"I'm a m-m-monster Daddy," Remus sobbed. "I kiwed people, ate dem, just wike da bad man sayd."


"You didn't kill them Remus, the werewolves…" John Lupin stuttered, realizing he could no longer class all werewolves together. "The bad werewolves killed them." He shook the boy in a desperate need to get the message across. "You were starving Remus, and…and you weren't yourself. The wolf needed meat. I had to keep you calm, to stop you from biting yourself. Those people were already dead, beyond suffering, beyond caring. If you have to blame anyone, blame Greyback for putting us here. Blame me for feeding you human meat. It was my responsibility, my fault, not yours." John Lupin was shouting now. He railed against the terrible injustice of their situation. He needed to do...something. Anything to erase this situation, he didn't even have a wand to obliviate the memories.


"I wanted to bite you hurt you."


"But you didn't Remus, you didn't hurt me."

There was a long terrible pause in which neither father nor son could speak.  Finally the little boy wiped his eyes and tugged on his father's ragged sleave.

"Daddy?" the tiny voice,was barely a whisper.

John turned his face, exposing the tears that were briming in his own eyes. 

" I going to Hewl?"

"Of course, you're going to heal, Remus." He laughed weakly, could the boy be more injured then he appeared?   While the child's injuries were indeed extensive, between the healing potion and the double-edged sword of lycanthropy every wound, except those caused by silver, already looked days instead of hours old.  "You're healing already, in fact you'll find you'll heal better now...."  John reached to ruffle the boy's hair, summoning a feeble good cheer. 

"No Daddy..." The desperate, earnest little voice broke in. "Am I?," Remus paused for a moment, enunciating to the best of his ability. 

Remus looked so confused, so vulnerable, and yet so determined.  John could only wait and listen to whatever the boy found so imporant. 

The boy's voice was still that of a child, but through supreme effort Remus' words come out clearly, making him seem both younger and far older then his five years of life. It was eerie, it was heartbreaking in-and-of itself, but the worst part was the question.

"Are we going to...Hell?"

How could he answer such a thing, what could he say?  John didn't know whether to find or lose religion.  Just being a Wizard was damnation in the eyes of some.  He laughed bitterly, picturing the dance of lies involved, in even asking for forgiveness in the non-magical world of his birth.  

And to ask who in the magical world, where he existed barely on sufferage, loving magic, loving his family but the lowest on any totem pole just for being Muggleborn?

There were plattitudes aplenty for this situation.  He could tell Remus everything would be alright but it would be a lie and his son would know it in less then Twenty-Four hours.  What answer, what could he possibily say or do?  

Did this curse alone make Remus truely a dark creature?  He couldn't believe that, he didn't...and he wouldn't.  This was Remus, still Remus his insightful, sweet natured, brilliant little boy.  Could this curse really change the child that much?  Or was it just one more predjudice in a world full of them on both the Muggle and magical side?

Remus was watching, waiting for an answer.

What of their actions tonight?  Unforgiveable? The first step on an inevitable slide?  Or mearly what had to be this once?  Was he to become a keeper for his monster child, watching them both slide into increasing depravity?  He would do anything for his family, but this...this was to much.  He paced furiously, clenched fists at his side.  

John felt the tears dripping down his face and no longer cared.  He dropped down beside Remus and held the boy tightly in his arms, shaking uncontrollably with emotions he could barely name, let alone feel.

"I love you son...Merlin and Holy Father."  John Lupin's voice broke completely, tears streaming unchecked down his face and onto Remus.  Gasping for air through trembling lips, John seemed able to breathe only a single word 

"I...I...I" Over and over again he tried to complete the sentance

Remus pushed back a tiny bit, staring his father intently in the eyes.  "We owr-are"

"I hope not.  I don't know.   I just...don't KNOW."

There he had said it, admitted his complete lack of answers.  The final cry echoed and echoed into the darkness.

Was he expecting a sign?  He laughed bitterly, if salvation was coming it had not yet arrived.  Maybe he had to close his eyes, wish and pray to be somewhere other then in this horrible cave...and it would all be a dream.

Maybe it was wandless magic, maybe it was the least of his prayers being answered, but there was snow on his feet and Remus in his arms.

---------------To Be Continued----------------------

If anyone was offended...I'm not writing to help people find or lose religion.  

Remember its only a story with a charactor facing these questions.  Although I'm flattered if I managed to effect you that much ;)

This chapter was originally supposed to end with the question from Remus and a a simple "I hope not" from John. Everything after that is pure, raw, and unbeta read.  Thank you to SBSL for pointing out a few typos I have now fixed.  

It also may have just changed the storyline a bit.  The next chapter may take me a little bit as what happens back on Wizard's bluff was the second chapter lost to that disk error..and some of its premise just got altered by this scene.  Spontanious writing, gotta love 

I have a question for all my readers, after the next few sections I was planning to wrap up Remus at age 5 and jump directly to 1970-1971.  Introducing Grace, James, Lily, Severus, Peter, and the Black brothers...each taking sections of the prelude to arrival at Hogwarts.  Along with a nice little section involving some very specific adults.

While I love this Remus section it wasn't even in the original outline.  Remus just kinda demanded I tell his backstory in full color rather then flashback I did.  The problem is this story was supposed to start in 1971 and cover a minimum of seven years at Hogwarts....I would like to get back there before I have a head full of grey hair ;)

How do you feel about a massive time jump?

The other option is changing the writing plan from a single novel (and perhaps a few companion stories) to a group of stories in a shared universe.

Thank you again for reading

mischief managed/vampiremouse

Chapter 6: An Interlude in Time (1967)
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A/N Hi everyone - the decision has been made, I guess I can always go back and change it...but right after this we jump to 1971.  You will learn about the missing years as various people flashback or tell you about them.  

For now here is a short transitional soon as this clears the que its time to get 1971 rolling.

Disclaimer: I'm still not J.K. Rowling, and I can't even pretend I am with polyjuice potion ;)  In the unlikely event that this story is able to make me money her stuff will no longer be in it...but all my original content will and I'm gonna keep ownership of my own creativity and hard work.

Thanks again to Shivvy and Becca...I'm not sure if anyone ever beta read this little section but if you didn't you have read pretty much everything else so I'll credit you anyway ;)

Between Worlds

a Harry Potter Fanfiction


Mischief Managed 

Chapter 6 - 

An Interlude in Time


The office of Headmaster Dippet - 1967

The old caretaker of Hogwarts, was getting on in years, and in need of an assistant.... but there was a  problem.  The very magic which protected the school from Muggle intrusion was traditionally based upon a squib of impeccable blood.  It was a spell closely related to the Fidellis Charm, that made the school visible (as anything other then a ruin) to only those with magic in thier blood.  Headmaster Dippet decided, he did not feel like going out in the weather.  His ancient eyes were also far to weary to pour over endless, dusty scrolls...finding the perfect squib would be Albus Dumbledore's test and task.  Dippett so informed the Deputy Headmaster and wished him good day. Some hours late, Dippett wondered if the board of directors would accept a half-blood as headmaster, he fancied retirement in just a few years and he really didn't feel like training anyone else. 

And so Albus Dumbledore, went looking for a squib...not realizing how much of his future rested on finding the right one.

------------------------------------scene break------------------------------------

In the ancient home of Filch, another dreer day came to pass. Young Argus had no future, this he knew far too well. He was an embarassment to the family, a bitter disapointment, a mark of shame. All these words and more he heard on a regular basis.   When his sister Gwen went out on dates, Argus's job was to disapear.

"Best not to let potential suiters see a squib, could hurt her chances, you understand , don't you dear?" His mother always said, patting him on the head as if Argus were simple-minded as well as lacking in magic.

"Damn Squib, at least the house-elf is useful," His father would mutter under his breath any time Argus annoyed him in the slightest.

Both parents favored Gwen, how could they do anything else, for the magically gifted girl, when thier only son was such a bitter, tragic disapointment. And so gifted Gwen went to parties, and revels, and was shown around town while awful Argus stayed home. Gifted Gwen went to Hogwarts, Argus cried, and screamed and broke things he would never have the Reparo to mend...and then he bitterly accepted his lot, a nothing in the world of magic.

Today something most unusual happened, Argus Filch had a vistor.

"It has come to my attention" The bearded, bespeckled visitor began, "That you have a young-man wasting away here...tending chickens"

"As you well know that, young man," Mortimer Filch sneered "was utterly rejected by every magical school as having insufficient power to teach. The boy is worthless, good for nothing but tending chickens, and sweeping out thier coops"

"Then surely you will not object if I offer your worthless son a future?"

"Take him, transfigure him into a house-elf, for all I care"

And so the under-age squib, Argus Filch became the legal ward of one Albus Dumbledore, former transfiguration teacher and deputy headmaster of the most famous Wizarding school in all the British Isles.  Someday worthless Argus, would hold the one position, within that illustrious and unattainable school, forever vouch-safed to a squib of pure and noble blood. Argus Filch, pure-blood grand-nephew of the illustrious crouch family would be caretaker. Take that Gwendolyn the gifted, he was going to Hogwarts.


I originally wrote this section to take place in 1971 and then realized that Filch just couldn't be 17 at that time...I suppose I could have posted this as an AU one shot.  I decided to modify it instead and let it lead the way into Dumbledore's preperations for the incoming class of 1971.

Chapter 7: A New Challenge (1971)
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A/N:  I originally wrote this to be Hagrid's first year as gamekeeper...and there was this great line where Dumbeldore gets the inadvertant inspiration for it...unfortunately the lexicon says he can't become gamekeeper in 1971...darn it.  This was also originally followed by the Filch section...which I also moved in time.  Just when you think you have it easy, posting already written chapters, you end up rewriting them...roflol.

This probably wasn't beta read either but I'll still thank my loyal two shivy and becca venable...if for nothing else then putting up with me ;)

Disclaimer:  This is a work of fan fiction with a fair amount of original content...the original content is mine the propriatary content belongs to J.K.R. and if I ever try to make money from this her stuff will have to take a different path then many different ways can I find to say this and how many will I have to type it ;)  Lets go read the story :) 


Between Worlds

Chapter 7 - A New Challenge

A Harry Potter Fanfic

By Mischief Managed


“And just how many challenges do you propose to give me this year?” Poppy Pomfrey asked with a bit of pique.

“That remains to be seen" Albus Dumbledore returned with a twinkling smile "how ever many are brave enough to accept my invitation".

“So I have an UNKNOWN number of children with differing physiologies to take care of on a daily basis?

"A daily basis?  Do you really expect to see most of them that often?"  Dumbledore inquired with a raised eyebrow and laughter in those infuriatingly friendly eyes.  “Now, now already know a half-giant, is adapting to any other half-breed really that difficult?"

“And we all know just how well Dippet's experiment turned out, expelled in the third year wasn't it?" fire and remembered fear, flashed in the normally unflappable nurse's eyes. "Honestly Albus, I was a student when the chamber was opened, you have to admit that half-breeds are more easily led to evil.”

“And I maintain it is only because it is expected of them" Dumbledore answered, recognizing fear as the source of Pomfrey's anger. "It will take courage to come here knowing they will be different. Those that end up in Slytherin, perhaps, we must watch.  Those who end up in Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw or Gryffindor, perhaps, for them we will see great things.  And although it is sadly the trend not all those in Slytherin go astray.

“Might I remind you that Hagrid was in Gryffindor”

“And might I remind you...that I will always believe Hagrid is innocent”

"Believe what you will Albus...maybe he didn't do it on purpose but you didn't see the, the THINGS he used to keep as pets."

"What an excellent idea, Poppy.  I should really take our Hagrid along for the experiance, you never know he might be perfect for wizarding orientation.

"That big oaf, introducing muggleborn's to the wizarding world, I 'll believe it when I see it."  Poppy Pomfrey snorted, but the very humor of the image brought a small smile to her face.

And with that the headmaster went off whistling, leaving a very stunned school nurse and a box of prospective student files in his wake.


a/n: Well we have a little bit of free recruitment time, in the story, where do you want to see Albus and/or Hagrid go next?  I'll probably be sending Dumbledore to practice his mermish at some point in the story for instance ;)

What kind of interesting students shall we recruit?  

I already have the main charactors planned but there is plenty of room for interesting students in houses other then Gryffindor.  I will credit you for any concept I don't already have planned and give you an honorable mention if you duplicate my existing ideas.

a/n 3: 
It seems the rules have been changed so that I can't post two stories at the same time :( So the opening chapter of "Blood Will Tell" will go up before you see the next one of "Between Worlds".  

"Blood Will Tell" is a stand alone prequal to "Between Worlds" and shows the story of Grace Remington's'll be meeting Grace and her family in just a few chapters :).

Chapter 8: A True Ravenclaw: The Story of Filius Flitwick
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This is a brand new chapter 8 which has absolutely nothing to do with any of the previous versions...If you read "Dumbledore's Journey" just kinda forget about the entire thing for now...I kinda borrowed a time tuner and erased it ;)

Anyway here for your reading enjoyment is the Story of Filius Flitwick, with the added bonus of my very first attempts to writing the Sorting Hat, Hagrid, and Flitwick himself.

I hope to get back to running these through a betareader...but for now continuing to write is far more important to me...I hope my faithful readers understand and as always feel free to point out my goofs so I can fix them :)

In case anyone had any doubts I'm still not J.K. Rowling and I don;t own any of her original content, however this story does contain a lot of original charactors, places, concepts, etc.  All of the new stuff is mine, all of the original stuff is her's and there are a number of original concepts based off her original content that are caught somewhere in the middle.  Legality has now ended and storytime has begun ;) 
Between Worlds: Chapter 8 (Version 3)

A True Ravenclaw: The Story of Filius Flitwick

By Mischief Managed 


Filius Flitwick contemplated the enormous Gargoyle before him, of course to Flitwick everything was enormous his over-sized escort , Rubius Hagrid, the doors, the chairs; and especially the tables. 

He was a tiny man who stood on a pile of books to see over a desk and found nearly everything in the castle far too large. As a child he had been the target of much ridicule, for his small stature made him an easy target. 

In the muggle world he was seen as one of the "little people".  Half-joking remarks about brownies, elves, and goblins, or lepricons, sometimes hitting just a little to close to the mark.
The truth was Filius did not know his heritage.  Abandoned on the steps of St. Mungos Hospital, at only a few weeks old, he had been raised by a kind wizarding family who did not let the whispers bother them. 

True, he obviously had non-human heritage but the ministry had been convinced that he was human to the required number of places and let him get a wand, did anything else matter. 

At age eleven, he had to make a running jump onto the stool to receive the sorting hat...andsent everything tumbling down. So he collected his bruised dignity and sat Indian-style on the floor with the hat large enough to cover all of him but his shoes...and waited for it to say he wasn't truly a wizard...instead it made him a Ravenclaw.

At age eleven the stairs were enormous...and they moved. He often found himself frightened by the enormity of distances he was forced to jump and climb. He fell down staircases, he tripped and rolled across the great hall. Sometimes he felt more like a muggle bowling ball then a boy. People stepped on him even without meaning to, they tripped over him, or planned it.  The tiny boy learned to be something of an acrobat, just in the effort of keeping himself from being squished in the halls. Some of the kids were malicious but the rest...honestly did not see a child that was a quarter the size of even the smallest 1st year.

The older boys would carry him on thier shoulders, the girls cradled him in thier arms it was undignified but expediant he reluctantly admitted...and did have its moments he blushed to remember the girlish kisses on his cheeks.

He didn't know which was worse being invisible or being patronized and babied...or his position as the Ravenclaw Quidditch team's mascot. He had his own jersey in second year, and it was often said how well he sat a broom, how lithe and agile he was in the air. Unfortunately it was also admitted he had no reach, and a solid wind just might blow him away. Still wasn't he a cute wittle mascottie wottie. Filius would never known whether to grin and lap it up, or cringe. It was attention, something he did crave, and yet they were treating him like a doll...yet again.

The astronomy tower, wish on a grow taller.  Should he have specified how much he was looking for or were wishes just fallacies...even in the magical world.

Flitwick shook his head, being at Hogwarts was bringing back memories, not all of them pleasant. He was an adult now, a wizard of some renown and a great deal of accomplishment. The child he once was, still resided within, but the pain of the past had long since been tempered by positive experiences and a slew of accomplishments. It was those accomplishments that brought him here to interview for one of the open positions at Hogwarts this term. He didn't want Defense Against the Dark Arts, and Transfiguration was all but confirmed to Minerva McGonnagal who had been sharing the post with Dumbledore more and more as he transitioned into the role of headmaster these last few years.  Charms was, the tiny but powerful, wizard's specialty. Filius Flitwick proceeded up the steps with renewed confidence and a smile.

“Well, I'll jus leave you 'ere Mr. Flitwick, good luck to you” Hagrid bowed his enormous head in the much smaller wizard's direction, and left Flitwick in sight of the door.

Flitwick proceeded as if to knock but a voice anticipated him calling “enter”.

Flitwick didn't sense a proximity charm, he decided concentrating on the interview was far more important then solving the mystery.

“Welcome, my boy” Albus Dumbledore measured the tiny wizard with bright blue eyes that held an incredible depth. “Why don't you take a seat”

The older wizard was all friendly smiles and casual, though professional, manor. Still the Headmaster was judging every nuance most astutely Filius was sure of it. He decided this was the first test and decided just a tiny bit of showing off might be in order.

“May I borrow a few of your books, Professor Dumbledore?”

“Yes the third shelf, I think”

Flitwick did not bother taking out his wand, for all that it would have made this demonstration much easier. He turned to look at the third shelf, closing his eyes and breathing deeply in order to concentrate...and then the candidate for charms professor, pointed his finger at the books, wandlessly, and non-verbally he conducted them across a few feet, to pile themselves neatly upon the guest chair. Surreptitiously he wiped his forehead from the effort then walked over to the chair and spoke the most familiar of his wandless charms “Consurgo”

Albus Dumbledore smiled, as the tiny wizard rose into the air to alight upon the pile of books and took the offered seat. “Shall we begin, then?” He asked, again looking deeply into Flitwick's eyes.

“I understand you have a few vacancies this term” Filius began.

“A few,” Dumbledore agreed “However, there is only one to which you are suited...Charms, I believe.”

“Charms,” the younger wizard agreed.

Once more the deep blue eyes probed the depths of Flitwick's mind, and this time he recognized that probing his mind...was exactly what Albus Dumbledore was doing. He thought the realization in the Headmaster's direction, and saw an even bigger smile grace the other Wizard's lips.

“Your credentials do not mention Occulmency Mr. Flitwick?"

“The training such as it is...was rather unofficial...and I fear incomplete Professor, still there is no malice in your intent.”  Filius finished with equal parts chagrin and pride

“True, a test only."

“And have I passed?

“You have, my boy, you have...welcome to the staff of Hogwarts' School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. “ Dumbledore's wand whirled in the air carving a charm that was mind-bogglingly complex even to Filius Flitwick's highly trained eye.  

The golden light of investiture swirled around them flooded the tiny wizard's senses with new awareness, binding him to the school defenses. The school judged Filius Flitwick then without warning the sorting hat bounced onto his head...enveloping him in memories and fabric once more.

“Hello, Hat...your charms are quite impressive” Filius thought at the ancient enchanted object.

“Teachers” The hat snorted. “You will not even try to unravel my spells, I do rather like staying who and what I am...with my secrets intact. Do we understand each other?”

“Very well, but may I study you some time?"

“I remember you Filius Flitwick...smallest Ravenclaw I ever turned out I knew you would. Still very much the Ravenclaw at heart I see. Obsessed with solving puzzles, seaking knowledge as its own reward.  However, you have learned a fair amount of cunning, a great deal of compasion, and more then a bit of courage on your journey...I judge you worthy of the school, your house, and of studying me”  The Sorting Hat concluded.

“ he worthy and confirmed?” Dumbledore asked.

“This is indeed Filius Flitwick, who I once sorted into Ravenclaw as a student...we were just having a discussion, forgive me Albus” the hat answered. “He wants to analyze what makes me tick” the hat continued, “I may just let him.”


“Indeed, I will be interested to hear the results of your study...Proffessor Flitwick...very interested indeed.” Albus Dumbledore gave an extremely genuine chuckle as he returned the hat to its shelf...then shook the younger wizard's hand.


The newly proclaimed Charms Professor could see the final spell pulsating off Albus Dumbledore's hand, he shook it gladly ...welcoming the magic that surged through him to fuel the subtle awareness of an entire castle. He was part of its defences and its secrets now, subordinate to the headmaster in his linkage but more aware then most teachers of exactly how he had been bound...and freed by accepting this symbiosis.


Professor Filius Flitwick left Dumbledore's office trailing an invisible, intangible, and subtle purple-white tendril of light. Like a gossamer cloak it covered him in magical protection, it traveled with him back to a simple flat he rented in London, just a few streets off Diagon Alley where he packed his things. Two-thirds of them returned to the home of Filius's adoptive parents and the invisible light traveled with them. The remaining third he connected to a simple luggage tag which read Hogwarts Staff Filius Flitwick. The simple Portkey whirled away to Hogsmeade where a carriage would bring his possessions to the castle. The final order of business involved parting ways with the landlady, a tour of friends and relations with the news, a spot of shopping, and then actually moving into his new home.

There were only a few weeks until the start of term and Dumbledore wanted an orientation with all the new staff several weeks prior, to that end Filius would accommodate him by moving into the castle early, even if he would not be in residence every day until term started.

The wisp of light followed and surrounded Filius the entire time he was away from the school, yet none seemed the wiser of its existence. The charm was truly imperceptible to those outside its spell...and most of those in it.

What an amazing spell, so ancient and yet so fresh...bound up in the most esoteric and exotic of magical types...and yet so basic and pure. Flius Flitwick would enjoy studying and being a part of the magic of Hogwarts, and he knew the spell's machanisms was only a small part of what drew him in. A chance to study the relics of an earlier time, to live within the very magic of the Founders...yes he would give anything even willingly ensnare himself in this conveluted charm if only for a chance to understand it...what could he say, Filius Flitwick, was a true Ravenclaw at heart.

So what typos have I made?  How did I do at portraying the hat? Hagrid? Flitwick? Dumbledore?

Were my new magical concepts clear?  Do you have questions or comments about them?

Do you like what I've done with Flitwick?  Do you want to hear more about his past?

And last but not least what should I do with "Dumbledore's Journey?"  Scrap the entire thing, find myh copy of Goblet and start over.?  Re-post the chapter a bit down the line. with nothing but a new author's note?  Or something else?  Tight now I have it saved on the computer.

The current plans for chapter nine are supposed to be either young Lily and Sev or else the search for a new DADA teacher.