Dark Kingdom.

Would they have died by Voldemort's hand? Would Harry? Or would Harry have been spared? Raised in England by a pureblood family? Perhaps they all would have been spared, taken in by Fenrir as he and Sirius had been. Harry would have grown up a werewolf pup, no doubt with several more siblings (no werewolf female seemed to be able to stop at one), hunting and playing in the forest with Sirius and him and the pack and Greyback.

A werewolf's life was not a bad life. Sometimes it was actually quite wonderful. At least, nowadays.

Those futile, painfully beautiful dreams began to give way to dangerous, selfish thoughts. How easy it would be to make at least part of those dreams true. Harry had nearly been murdered, sacrificed for the hurt pride of wretched dark wizard spawn. How could he send his and Sirius' godson back to that? Wouldn't it be better to simply keep Harry here with him and Sirius, his rightful family? Harry, James' cub, now his and Sirius', to complete the family they never could on their own.

Mentally, Remus recoiled at his own thoughts. How utterly conceited and selfish they were, he realized. Harry was a wizard with his whole life ahead of him. His family may have been lost to him, but he had not let it hold him down or back. It would be unforgivable to take away those secret dreams that must have sustained the orphaned boy. For certainly, being a werewolf likely wasn't one of them.

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Remus was strong enough to climb into the cart the next morning, and out of it again when they reached the cabin. With a little bit of help from Harry, he managed to hobble to his bed and then collapse. He slept through most of the day, waking up occasionally when his godson brought him food, water, or checked his wounds. When he fully awoke that evening, Harry was napping beside him.

The boy had changed out of his ruined school robes and into a set of clothes he must have found in the werewolf's trunk. Harry was practically swimming in his wool sweater, and a pair of suspenders were all that kept his pants up. He looked like James after a shrinking hex. He also looked extremely comfortable.

Reluctantly, he nudged Harry awake. The boy blinked owlishly at him and sat up.

"What is it?"

"I think I should take you back to Hogwarts tomorrow," Remus said.

"Hm, what? Why? You're still weak from your injuries, and I'm not much better."

"If I don't take you back tomorrow, you may never leave. My pack will come looking for me tomorrow, and it wouldn't be a good thing if Greyback is with them."

"Why not?"

"Because Greyback is territorial. You're too young for him to consider a real threat, but old enough he'll hold you accountable for your 'folly'."

"Folly? I was kidnaped and thrown in his territory!"

"He won't care. The Wolf and Snake Treaty states very clearly that he's within his rights to kill or turn any muggle or wizard, regardless of age, status, or circumstance found within his designated territories. You're a healthy, adolescent male. He'd turn you for sure, just as he did me."

Harry remind very silent for a moment.

"Will I... I wanted... Do you suppose... we'll meet again? You and I... and maybe Uncle Padfoot too?"

Remus smiled at him wistfully.

"I don't know. It seems unlikely, but then so is the chance that we would ever meet at all. Perhaps this is fate, and if that's the case, then we'll definitely meet again. Sirius too."

Harry searched his face, searching for a lie, but found only a hopefulness that he couldn't bring himself to question. Instead, he moved a bit closer to Remus and laid back down, his forehead pressed lightly against his guardian's shoulder.

"Goodnight, Uncle Moony."

"Goodnight, Harry."

Remus woke Harry before dawn the next morning. Silently and a bit stiffly, they made a breakfast of porridge, tidied up the cottage, got dressed, and went to the stable. With some difficulty, they both managed to mount Helga and headed out at a leisurely pace.

"Normally, I would simply apparate us both to Hogsmeade," the werewolf said. "But neither of us is in any condition to do that without getting splinced."

The ride was a very quiet, tense affair. Harry was still sore from his injuries, and despite his companion's regenerative abilities, he seemed just as fragile. Holding on to Remus' waist as they rode, Harry could feel the tension through his entire body. As dawn finally came, Remus had broken out into a sweat.

"We should go back," Harry said, "You're not in any condition to travel, Moony."

The werewolf gave his a pained, but genuine smile.

"No worries, lad. Just a hundred yards or so and we'll be out of the Pack Lands. We can hail a bus from there."

"A bus?"

"A sort of bus."

"Way out here?"

"It's only five miles from Norrington."

"What? How do you keep the muggles away?"

"Disillusionment charms. Temporary ones anyway. There's been discussion about putting up ward posts. Our alpha doesn't like the idea of a magical boundary, but it's really the most practical solution to all these trespassing issues. If anyone gets a little lax maintaining their section of the boundary, then muggles tend to wander in. Plus witches and wizards don'talways take their own laws seriously. They don't seem to realize their lives are forfeit once they stepped into our realm."

"Are many people killed?"

Remus remained silent for a bit. "They were in the beginning. Many werewolves too. Everyone was an enemy it seemed. Danger everywhere. Too many people running scared, wands always drawn and teeth always bared. Now... well, the danger is still there of course, but the boundaries have been set."

"Do the werewolves and wizards never see each other anymore?"

"Oh, we do business and occasionally enjoy the company of wizarding kind... but we're like two different countries with separate customs and philosophies. Some people accept it, some people are prejudice, and other completely over romanticize the other's lifestyles. As it is, our alpha is pro-segregation, but when he's finally overthrown? Who can say? Depending on the new alpha's position, we may become more open to our wizarding heritage or we might completely cut ourselves off. Then of course, there's Voldemort."

"Because of the Snake and Wolf Treaty?"

"Partially, yes. This truce only works because Voldemort enforces his end of the treaty, and Greyback enforces his own. They're powerful allies, with a wary respect for each other. If someone were to overthrow Greyback, Voldemort is in a position to rescind his end of the treaty. A civil war could break out."

"He wouldn't do that, would he? I mean, he's trying to make Britain stronger, isn't he?"

"Yes, and what better way to do that than to unite all of wizarding Britain in a common cause? Defending their children and loved ones from the evil lycanthropic threat?"

Harry had nothing to say to that. It seemed horrible to contemplate, and the twisted logic behind it made him feel physically ill. He hadn't ever thought of himself as naive, but the ease with which Remus was able to lay down political intrigue, war, and hatred was startling. His guardian must of sensed his unease because his next words were comforting.

"Don't worry so much, Harry. Voldemort gains more from peace at the moment than war. He has more than enough on his plate without adding werewolves as a side dish."

Their conversation turned to lighter topics, about life as a werewolf and life as a Hogwarts student. Remus seemed to find his life even more peculiar than Harry found his, which was a bit ironic. Hermione, Draco, Professor Snape, and Headmaster Lestrange were all subjects of considerable interest to Remus, each for different reasons. Fenrir Greyback, Sirius Black, the pack commune, and the forest dwelling races sparked Harry's imagination like a wildfire, and despite never having seen any of them, he longed to imprint their images to paper by whatever medium he could find.

They came to a simple barb wire fence and dismounted. Helga was unbridled and set loose, but she lingered at the fence for their company. Remus pulled a wand from his robes that Harry hadn't seen before, and after a couple flicks he put it away.

"It may be a few minutes," he said. "Knight buses are a bit hazy first thing in the morning."

"Night buses?"

"You'll see."

And indeed, Harry did see. Not five minutes later a terrible smashing sound could be heard, and then suddenly there was a bus stopped not two feet from them. It was scratched and covered in leaves and twigs, but Harry still could not fathom how a bus had managed to get through all the trees. The two boarded the bus, and were greeted by a rather grouchy driver and a ticket master fast asleep. The driver nudged the ticket master roughly.

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