Where do we begin with this unhappy ending?

[looneyloopy.livejournal.com]

*Never mind that Remus has never been to Xeno Lovegood's home before. There's absolutely no mistaking it, no question whatsoever of it being the right place. He stands on the garden path looking at the odd structure, the orange wellies, the sign about plums - no question at all. Remus remembers Xeno, vaguely, from school; he was quite a few years older, but odd enough to make an impression, and his letters are sometimes just eccentric enough to verify he's still certainly a unique person. The house, in light of all that, seems perfectly fitting.

A little amused, not unkindly, Remus crosses the rest of the garden and knocks on the door, looking down at the delicate pink plum blossoms vining nearby. He's a bit late (he's usually a bit late), but not too much. Hopefully Xeno won't mind; somehow Remus thinks he won't.*

Comments

[mindtheplums.livejournal.com]

Hello Remus! So glad you've come. Mona's still here.

*Xeno's more than a little delayed in getting to the door. He and Mona have been getting along like a house on fire: it was a slightly draining conversation about Remus and Clover, and the handkerchiefs in the house have been well worked over, but after awhile they got to chatting a little more comfortably and are now a good ways through a hand-rolled joint of Xeno's finest.

He makes it to the door, eventually, and when he emerges it's clear he's dressed up a bit for company. He's got a shirt and everything, if not necessarily shoes, and his amethyst-colored sweater is remarkably free of holes. Xeno immediately enfolds Remus in a warm, brief hug that smells thoroughly of patchouli and the beautiful flowers he tends all day--not to mention what he and Mona have been smoking.

Without preamble, he leads Remus into the perfectly round kitchen, which is much neater than usual but still fairly chaotic--if beautiful and sunlit.*

Have a seat.

[looneyloopy.livejournal.com]

*Remus is a strong believer in personal space; no one but Sirius or their friends or his family ever really touches him, much less hugs him, but he's more bemused by anything at Xeno's unexpected embrace. (And he knows that smell, intimately and immediately - the scent of his salvation, the last year or so, from what would otherwise be abject misery. So maybe a hug's in order, after all.)

So there's the hug (mildly surprising) and the kitchen (not remotely surprising), but what really startles Remus is his grandmother. He hadn't known she even knew Xeno, so finding her sitting at the kitchen table, smiling and holding a joint, is somewhat odd. He stops in the doorway, blinking.*

Nana?

[monalupin.livejournal.com]

*She's had enough to be relaxed without going off her nut, which is exactly how she likes it. Delightful, all this - the sunny kitchen, Xeno, the joint, the tea - and she's got rather a lot of empathy for a young widower, so it's nice (if painful) to try and help him out a bit. Tears behind them, though (and she's not even a crier), it's a lovely afternoon, and the sight of her grandson only makes it better. She smiles at him, a near-perfect copy of his own smile, and pats the chair next to her.*

Yes, dear, don't stand there like a ninny. Do sit down.

[looneyloopy.livejournal.com]

*So. Nana's smoking. Okay. Feeling that the axis of the earth has somehow shifted because of this, and at the same time not nearly as surprised as he feels he should be, Remus does as instructed and looks between them.*

Er.

[monalupin.livejournal.com]

*Leaning over, Mona gives him a one-armed hug and hands him the joint, kissing his cheek.*

I'm old, I'm not a nun, Remus, relax. Here. Where were we, Xeno?

[mindtheplums.livejournal.com]

*Xeno's sat down too, at one of the mismatched chairs, and waves in the direction of the tea makings as if to say have at it. The mug set out for Remus is an odd one, handle-less and roughly carved from what appears to be rose quartz.

As usual, he is extremely frank.*

Mona and I were were talking about my wife Clover who was eaten by the ferals in Scotland and how the Ministry thinks that by making your life hell for no reason somehow that will make it better.

Biscuit?

[looneyloopy.livejournal.com]

*Remus glances up quickly from stirring his tea, joint passed back to Nana, a little taken aback at how bluntly Xeno can talk about that. But when in Rome...he takes a biscuit, nodding.*

Thanks. I heard about Clover - I know the Aurors who recovered her remains, they're friends of mine. I'm sorry.

*It doesn't begin to cover it, and he knows that; Remus can imagine all too easily if it were Sirius dead, if he were in Xeno's place, and 'I'm sorry' is nowhere near adequate, but what else is there to say?*

[mindtheplums.livejournal.com]

Thanks. Me too.

Ministry sent me her fingerbones in a box. Made me rather angry. Or, I don't know, maybe it let me be angry. In any case I don't think I'll be publishing much more nonsense.

*He says it peacefully, though. The crying part is over with, and now he's only relaying the bare facts, as dryly as his father might have done--the small way in which he's taken after him. Xeno accepts the joint from Mona and inhales deeply.*

Which brings me to you two.

[looneyloopy.livejournal.com]

*His expression darkens about the box - that should've been handled better, and he's willing to bet Sirius and Alice and Fabian had nothing to do with the decision, or it would've been. No one should get their loved one's bones in the post.*

Anything I can do, I'll do. It's always been bad, with the Ministry, but they're out of control.

[mindtheplums.livejournal.com]

Well, I'd like it very much if you could speak about your life and experiences as a werewolf under the Ministry. Specifically recently. I know some of the more--exotic ways it's terrible, and we are going to get into that, but I'd also like to take my readers through how your daily life is affected by the Ministry's policies.

*Xeno's expression is still marginally pleasant, but it's grimmer, now, drawn, and he suddenly looks old. He's seen the photos Mrs. Tonks sent him: an old man and a child, locked and strapped and tied, read the files, files more-or-less faithfully recording torture. Ministry-sanctioned torture. He'd held off on publishing them, more out of his own horror than anything else, but now. . . well, his duty is clear.*

[looneyloopy.livejournal.com]

*Remus sips at his tea, thinking that over for a moment, before answering slowly. It's not his favorite subject, but he feels much the same as Xeno - this isn't pleasant, but it's important. Even if he's a little too pragmatic to believe this will really change anything, it might at least win over those who can be won over. Maybe it's enough to start something.*

...Until January I'd have said unemployment was the biggest daily issue, but it isn't, now. I don't know how much of the new laws you've been keeping up with, but all registered werewolves used to be required to submit to yearly appointments with the department. Those are monthly, now.

[mindtheplums.livejournal.com]

*A quill and parchment are set up on the far side of the table, bewitched to take dictation, and as the quill dashes across the page, Xeno indicates it with a jerk of his chin.*

That'll be taking dictation, if that's all right. I'll ask you to approve what's written when we're done--

Monthly appointments, you were saying. And what does a typical appointment entail?

[looneyloopy.livejournal.com]

*Again he doesn't answer immediately; that's a loaded question, and he's never described this to anyone. The only people who know what he goes through are his family and Sirius, because they've gone with him - and other werewolves, of course, but this isn't spoken of for good reason.

His face a bit warm, Remus only starts talking when he feels Nana put a hand over his, threading their fingers together and squeezing gently.*

...You go in to the office - it's this dingy little room in the DRCMC, Beast Division, which should tell you something. You surrender your wand either to whoever's come with you - my flatmate always does - or to the ministry worker. There's a series of questions, they're not always the same ones, but it's usually things like where you've traveled, what you've been doing, if you've found work, who you're in touch with, if you've been talking to any other werewolves. ...Ah. Sexual contacts, sometimes, too, they've asked about that before. Still can't figure out what that's meant to help with.

*His voice is quiet, but not flat; this is too personal for him to disconnect from, much as he wishes he could.*

They update your address, too, if you've moved. We've all got to have our addresses made public, you see, which as you can imagine is something of a security hazard. Not that they care. Then after the questions, they - there's this screen -

*He falters at that, looking round at Nana miserably. This is the part he's not sure how to talk through, the shame is too deep.*

[monalupin.livejournal.com]

*She picks up seamlessly from him, all her good humor dissolved into the hardness of long-held anger. The first time he went through the Registry she had to be forcibly escorted out, because of that damned screen and what happened behind it, and the fury over it is still perfectly evident.*

They examine him physically. Naked, every inch of skin, and I do mean that literally. They use a wand, so they don't have to touch him, as though it's passed through skin contact. They're that disgusted.

They document everything, every new scar, every freckle, any tattoos or piercings, in case he ever decides he'd like to suddenly become a mass-murderer, you see, so they can verify identification. It's almost exactly the same way prisoners in Azkaban are documented. He was seven, the first time. And they treated him like a criminal.

[looneyloopy.livejournal.com]

*Remus listens and watches the steam rising from his mug, not letting go of Nana's hand. He's silent for a second after she finishes, then speaks up very softly. His voice catches thickly at first, and he has to clear his throat and try again.*

May - I'm sorry. May I smoke in here? A cigarette, I mean?

[mindtheplums.livejournal.com]

*The joint lies forgotten in an fish-shaped ashtray, and Xeno slides it over to him wordlessly.

He isn't surprised--after those photos, those files, the bones in the box, he's not sure if he can be surprised anymore--but he does feel his stomach twist unpleasantly. Remus is a visibly private person, and what Mona's saying is a tremendous violation. He looks evenly at her, knowing instinctively to avoid Remus' gaze, give him at least that bare measure of privacy for the moment. He doesn't know it, but he is, briefly, very much like his father: listening without judgement, authoritative without pushing.*

Of course.

And this was yearly, and now monthly. Why?

[looneyloopy.livejournal.com]

*He answers around the cigarette he's lighting with his wand, before setting that and the pack on the table.*

Greyback. What happened to Clover, what keeps happening to people in Scotland, it's panicking everyone. The Ministry wanted to show they were doing something, so those of us who actually follow the laws have to pay the price. Logically it's ridiculous, but the Ministry is so incompetent that they can't actually catch the people who've gone feral. So they crack down on the people they do have at hand.

*There's no small amount of bitterness in his voice, but at least anger is easier to handle in front of people than shame. The way Xeno spares him his gaze helps tremendously; if Remus had any doubts as to liking him, they're settled.*

[mindtheplums.livejournal.com]

So the Ministry's way of handling the ferals in Scotland is to come down hard on law-abiding individuals in London. Would you say it's image control rather than damage control?

[looneyloopy.livejournal.com]

Exactly. Damage control would be solving the problem in the first place, but the root problem is societal, not even just legislative. And they can't even stop the immediate issue by catching Greyback's people, but it'd hurt Crouch's image to continue to show no results. This way they can say, legitimately, that they're being harsher on werewolf control laws, without having actual progress.

[mindtheplums.livejournal.com]

Laws--can you touch on how Dolores Umbridge's recent werewolf legislation has affected you?

[looneyloopy.livejournal.com]

*Just her name is enough to make Remus laugh, a short, bitter sound that makes his grandmother's expression darken.*

How hasn't it, is more the question. I can't work at all now. It was difficult before, and I tried everything - wizards don't like hiring werewolves for obvious reasons, and Muggles tend to assume we're lying about sick days after a few months of being ill a lot. There was a lot of job-hopping but at least I could manage, more or less. But now I've got to inform any employer of my condition - you can imagine how well that goes over. I did have my own business, last fall, but any adverts have to include full disclosure as well. You'd be amazed how quickly people no longer need your services, after they see that.

[mindtheplums.livejournal.com]

So werewolves are essentially blocked from legitimate means of supporting themselves?

[looneyloopy.livejournal.com]

Entirely. And then the government makes us all out to be lazy thieves.

*The truth is that his friends are the only reason he isn't homeless and starving, and they all know it, but he can't bring himself to say so.*

And there are other things - Umbridge modified the Trace so that it's on all of us, whether we're of age or not. Which means everywhere I go, if I use magic, they know it. There's a log kept on all of us. When I lit this?

*He gestures with his cigarette, leaning back in his chair.*

That pinned me to here. Probably stupid, come to think of it, they could figure out who gave you all this information if they wanted, from that. Oh, and sterilization. Umbridge wasn't responsible for that, they've done it for years, but women and girls are sterilized their first Registry appointment. The Ministry likes to keep that one quiet. Bit too much like certain Muggle groups forty years ago, I wager, for it to look good.

[mindtheplums.livejournal.com]

*Xeno's more than a little daffy, but he wasn't in Ravenclaw for nothing. The quill keeps scratching out what Remus says, but he's only half-listening, the wheels in his head visibly turning. A month ago it might've been simple paranoia, but now he knows better: he's seen the consequences for werewolves who make a fuss, and he has no intention of that happening to Remus. And just like that, like the password to Ravenclaw tower, a solution presents itself.*

You needn't worry. I'll be throwing a loud party the instant you two leave. Plenty of witnesses.

Unless you'd rather stay.

[looneyloopy.livejournal.com]

*A little surprised, Remus glances up and smiles. It's faint but it's real; all of this is a level of kindness he's not used to from anyone outside his immediate circle.*

...Thank you. Even with Umbridge gone....

[mindtheplums.livejournal.com]

Oh, it's nothing. Just good business.

And about her--there's something maybe you should see.

*The words come out as if of their own accord, fighting their way past the sick lump that's suddenly bloomed in his stomach. He rises, then, lifting his wand to undo the wards on the third kitchen drawer--he'd put on every one he could think of, after stowing inside what Mrs. Tonks sent him. It wouldn't do to leave that sort of thing lying around.*

Something another source sent me. It's bad, though. Bad.

*He reaches for the copied files and for the sleeve of photographs but he doesn't withdraw them, not yet--he's looking grimly at the two of them, clearly waiting for permission.*

[looneyloopy.livejournal.com]

*Neither is the type to back away from something; Remus and Mona exchange a glance, and then he nods once, wondering how bad 'bad' is.*

[mindtheplums.livejournal.com]

*He passes the sleeve of photographs over first: they're Muggle, unmoving, clearly taken by an amateur with a steady hand. They show the labeled ward door, the rows of empty beds, and then, of course, the old man and the child, strapped in. Xeno's voice is too even, to dry to even properly belong to him.*

These were taken a week or so before the full moon. Source at St. Mungo's sent them in.

*And then, of course, the medical charts, with names and dates and details and faithful documentation. As he slides it across to them, he can't help but remember how it felt to sort through his pile of weeks-old correspondence, to take a sip of tea, put down Mrs. Gamp's submitted recipe for pumpkin-gurdyroot pasties, and pick up--this. Xeno swallows hard.*

There was apparently a third person with them, but she disappeared. And then so did they. No records. Nothing.

[looneyloopy.livejournal.com]

*Both of them look over the documents, Remus's eyes lingering longer on the photograph. He remembers those masks vividly - he still has nightmares about it sometimes, though not even Sirius knows that - but the bit in his mouth, the restraints, the unparallelled terror of that first-ever transformation, it all comes flooding back at that picture. It's why he has such a soft spot for children: he knows what it is to be small and helpless and afraid. Unwilling to get dragged back into those memories, he makes himself look away to the charts and swallows hard. It's not about him, and he tries to distance himself from the situation as best he can, to focus on the implications of people being strapped up so unnecessarily.

A page into the little girl's, when Xeno mentions their disappearances, he raises his eyes to the quill taking dictation.*

Can we go off the record for a moment?

[monalupin.livejournal.com]

*Mona keeps quiet, but she's no less affected than Remus; the set of her jaw's gone hard, and she reaches for one of his cigarettes without a word, lighting it with a sharp, precise jab of her wand. She doesn't make a habit of smoking, but this is exactly the problem - people being trussed up like rabid dogs just because they're ill, people just vanishing - and children - *

[mindtheplums.livejournal.com]

*With a swift, almost lazy flick of his wand, Xeno stills the quill. His normally ruddy face has paled visibly.*

Of course.

[looneyloopy.livejournal.com]

They're dead. I know it seems obvious but I can confirm it, I've seen evidence of this before. There have been other instances of her making certain...problematic...werewolves just disappear, but I've seen the Ministry paperwork. Executed. All of them.

[mindtheplums.livejournal.com]

I can't say I'm surprised.

*Xeno isn't sure he can be surprised anymore. That muscle seems to have been sprained.*

And of course when she disappeared much of the evidence seems to have gone with her. I suspect this is the only bit of incriminating material on her time at the DRCMC, or nearly.

[looneyloopy.livejournal.com]

Probably. There were memos, but the aurors forced to work with her probably destroyed those. She made tempers run a bit high all around. Understandably.

[mindtheplums.livejournal.com]

I can imagine.

*Xeno reaches over and tugs loose the long roll of parchment that's transcribed the interview, duplicating it with a flick of his wand and sliding that, too, across to Remus.*

I'd like you to take a look at this and owl it back to me with anything you'd like to edit or redact, if that's all right.