A/N: I hope you enjoy this, and that you find it reasonably thoughtful.It's not slash unless you just want it to be.
Disclaimer: If I own Harry Potter, it's news to me.
The apparition of these faces
Remus Lupin: Magical Theory
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Muggles have a strange way of looking at magic.
The vast majority of them don't believe it exists. And yet, it is possible in the Muggle world to make a living as a magician.
The irony here is that even magicians don't believe in magic. In reality, they believe in it the least, since their job requires them to deliberately, precisely plan out ways in which toperform their tricks without actual magic.
A favorite Muggle magician's trick is to create the impression, using mirrors, that he is sawing another person in half. The Muggles watching know that this is not really happening. Magic does not exist in their minds, and the proposal that the person is truly being sawed in half is too terrible to consider. Therefore, it can be nothing but a hoax.
Everyone present realizes this. Muggle audiences know when they watch magicians perform that what they are seeing is not magic, but a series of clever deceptions—moreover, they attend magic shows expecting nothing less. Imagine for a moment that someone that possesses magical ability, such as you or I, were to use a spell to saw another person in half and then put him back together. What have we really proved? It's no remarkable feat for a wizard to perform magic. It may be amusing, but it's not extraordinary. Magicians know that their audiences find joy not in believing in magic, but in being expertly deceived into believing in magic—and being aware of the deception.
It could be said, then, that the mark of a good Muggle magician is not the ability to actually perform magic, but the ability to skillfully manipulate his environment and create illusions "believable" enough to persuade the audience to share his game…
-Adalbert Waffling, Magical Theory, Chapter 3—"What Is Magic? Perspectives From Different Cultures"
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I finished reading and looked up at James and Sirius, who were staring back at me with identical expressions of bewilderment.
"They want to be tricked?" Sirius said blankly. "It's not a trick if you know you're being tricked."
"I think they should all decide to either believe in magic or not believe in magic and have done with it," said James, covering a yawn. "It seems like it would be a lot less complicated."
"For us, anyway," Sirius added. "When's the test over these chapters?"
"A week from Monday," I replied vaguely, examining the text again. To skillfully manipulate his environment and create illusions…
"That long?" Sirius said in disbelief. "Why are we sitting here studying? We'll be lucky to get another day like this before winter." He gestured to the library windows, where we could see the trees swaying in the cool fall wind.
"Not a cloud in the sky," James agreed, looking up from his books and gazing out the window wistfully. "Perfect day to go flying."
Sirius brightened. "That's settled, then," he said, standing and gathering his books. "We'll study when it gets too cold to fly." He looked around expectantly. "Who wants to waste the daylight hours with me?"
"All right, then," James said with another yawn. "I'm starting to think Peter had the right idea, staying in bed today. Coming, Mooney?"
My body ached at the thought. I shook my head. "Not today. I'm going to go ahead and get this done."
Sirius rolled his eyes. "So you can lie around doing nothing next Sunday while we have to study? You're no fun at all."
He clapped me playfully on the shoulder, and I jerked involuntarily as pain shot down my arm. Sirius stepped back immediately and looked at me with surprise. "What's wrong?"
I started to shake my head dismissively, but Sirius, with his usual straightforwardness, had already maneuvered around behind me to yank up the sleeve of my robes before I could protest. His mouth dropped slightly as James walked over to look.
"What happened, Remus?" James asked slowly, looking up at me as Sirius continued to gape at the bruises.
It would be stupid to say "nothing." Something had obviously happened, and "nothing" would result in further, more determined questions.
I lowered my voice. "They're left over from last moon. Madam Pomfrey gets most of them, but sometimes they take a few days to show."
Sirius blinked, looking a little unsettled, but he had no reason to distrust me. "Oh," he said, releasing my arm. "You ought to go back and get those taken care of, mate."
I shrugged. "It's not worth it. You know how big a fuss she makes over me anyway."
Sirius seemed satisfied, but James was still looking at me oddly, so I smiled and said, "Have a good time. I'll see you at dinner and tell you off for not studying all day."
Sirius grinned. "That's my favorite part of Sunday. Come on, Prongs, we're wasting daylight." He pulled James around by the arm and marched him out of the library, leaving the door to swing shut behind him.
I relaxed and stretched as much as my body would allow. Now I had to decide whether I actually wanted to study or go take a nap. The latter was sounding more and more attractive.
"Liar."
I jerked my head around. Severus sat at the next table over, reading from an enormous Charms encyclopedia and not, it seemed, paying me a bit of attention.
"What?" I said, a little more aggressively than I'd intended.
He marked his place in the Charms book and turned to look me in the face. "You're a liar," he repeated, putting exaggerated emphasis on each word. He turned back around and resumed reading.
I narrowed my eyes at his back, my mind attempting to process this and decide how much he knew. "What do you think you're talking about?"
He exhaled impatiently, and apparently deciding it wasn't worth it, closed his book, pushed it away and turned to face me again.I glared back, and there were a few seconds' tense silence before he spoke again.
"I know what one looks like," he said, his lip curling slightly.
"You don't know anything," I said coldly.
"They ought to know, too," he added, tilting his head toward the library door. "I think Potter did, that's why you persuaded Black to drag him off so quickly." He looked down, examining his fingertips. "That was a fairly artful bit of manipulation, by the way. I didn't think Gryffindors had an aptitude for that sort of thing."
"It's just that we don't tend to find ourselves in as many situations that call for it," I retorted before I could stop myself.
His eyes glittered spitefully, and I cursed myself for rising to the bait. Now he would never leave me alone. I opened my theory textbook again and began rereading chapter three.
"Who was it?" Severus asked, rather cruelly. "No, don't tell me, it had to have been Liedrich and Bishop. Potter and Black sent them running with their tails between their legs in that fight they had the other day. They're the type who would find ways other than a rematch to take revenge."
I gritted my teeth. Muggles have a strange way of looking at magic…
"Did Ericks accompany them or was it just the two?"
"Did you organize it or something?" I grated without looking up, doubting my words even as I said them. I somehow couldn't imagine Severus with minions.
He looked at me disparagingly. "Do I appear to care that much?"
I shook my head in exasperation and continued studying. Muggle audiences know when they watch magicians perform that what they are seeing is not magic, but a series of clever deceptions.
"They must have gotten your wand away from you and done it the Muggle way," Severus mused, gazing absently out the window over the windswept grounds. "Those idiots couldn't win a duel with a park bench." He blinked and refocused his gaze on me. I stared more determinedly at my textbook, though I was finding it increasingly difficult to comprehend the words.
He leaned in, his hair falling over his face, his eyes still alight with some unidentifiable emotion."When did it happen?"
Sunset yesterday and thank God, thank God it was this week and not last. I deliberately turned the other way in my chair and kept reading.
Severus continued to look at me rather appraisingly. "I wonder why they didn't choose Pettigrew."
I shook my head in helpless frustration, wondering why he was doing this, wanting him simply to leave me alone, finding myself unable to stop the slight flush that had started to creep up my neck.
"I don't suppose it matters; both of you are rather easy targets," he continued, now examining his hands with an expression of total indifference on his face. "At least physically. But, and surely they are aware, you are a fairly well-accomplished spellcaster. Whereas Pettigrew wouldn't have been able to defend himself even with his wand." I felt a flash of anger as Severus, having completed his inspection of his palms, progressed to his fingernails. "So...why you?"
"Because Peter w—" I started angrily, then forced myself to stop and turn away again. He wanted me to get angry. I wrenched my eyes back down to the page.
They attend magic shows expecting nothing less.
"Because Peter would have told," Severus finished softly, a note of triumph in his voice. He lifted his head to stare intently at me, his eyes narrowing. "He would have tattled to Potter and Black, and they would have hunted down Liedrich and Bishop in a rage and taken their own revenge, not caring about the consequences of their actions." He smiled unpleasantly. "But not Lupin. He can be trusted to take it and keep his mouth shut. He's much too civil to retaliate."
Imagine for a moment that someone…
Severus leaned in close. "He'll take it from them and remain as mild and calm and civilized as is humanly possible
I stared hard at the page in front of me, which was beginning to blur as I attempted desperately to ignore Severus. I could feel his eyes on me, however, and after a few seconds I slowly, almost subconsciously, lifted my head to look at him.
He was waiting, looking me square in the eyes. "Except that there's one time when he can't. I wonder, is he so meek and passive the rest of the time simply to spite himself, to prove he can? Or is he attempting, perhaps, to somehow compensate for past actions, making his weakness easier to bear by telling himself he deserves the pain anyway?"
The bottom dropped out of my stomach.
What have we really proved?
"Th—" I started, but my mouth was suddenly too dry to talk. The library seemed to fade into the background, everything becoming blurred and out-of-focus except Severus's eyes, which were still fixed directly on me. My mouth hung open slightly as I looked back.
The mark of a good magician…
After a few seconds, Severus's face blanked as if he had lost interest, and he glanced idly down at my theory book. "Thus what I said before. You're a liar." He looked back up at me, not with the piercing stare of a few moments ago, but with his usual bored expression. "Now that I have thoroughly explained myself, I wonder if you would allow me to continue working."
He turned and began to walk back over to his table. I forced myself to speak.
"Sirius and James would have been expelled for beating them up."
He paused and looked back over his shoulder. "That's true, they probably would have been. I see what you're saying. Gryffindors only lie with noble intentions." He shrugged as he turned back around. "Or maybe I'm giving you too much credit. It could simply be that you're keeping all your emotions inside to avoid pity."
My fists clenched, and I reached out and grabbed his wrist. "I wouldn't dream of it. Everyone knows you'rethe expert on that."
He flinched visibly, and his eyes moved away from my face. I followed his gaze down to my outstretched arm, where my sleeve had fallen back and several bruises were visible.
My stomach clenched suddenly, and I immediately let go of Severus's arm. I stepped back and forced myself to calm down and relax my fists. Somehow I could not look Severus in the face. What had I been about to do?
Severus glanced at the clock on the wall, then put the Charms book back on the shelf behind him and picked up his bookbag. I averted my eyes as he passed me, but looked up after a few seconds, sensing that he hadn't left. He was looking at me with an odd expression.
As I watched, his eyes traveled once more down to my arm, looking at the bruises. I pulled my sleeve down quickly, and for some reason he covered his arms more securely with his own robes as well.
"I suppose those," he said, almost to himself, "are the marks of a good magician."
He turned and walked out of the room, closing the door behind him. The last orange rays of the sun cast the bookshelves into shadow and illuminated the dust floating in the air. I looked out the window, where I could see two figures on broomsticks coming in for a landing.
I gathered my things and prepared to leave for dinner. I had a performance to attend.
A/N: So was it OK? I'm planning to create more of these for several characters that are either grown or dead by the time the books start, hence the title, which by the wayis taken from an Ezra Pound poem. Review with any suggestions.