Mind Over Matter

A/n: Thank you for the reviews for last chapter, I was pleasantly surprised to receive such a quick response. I'm happy that you find the concept interesting, and I hope I don't disappoint you with this chapter. The disclaimer is on the first chapter, should any of you need be assured that I am not J.K. in disguise.

Full Summary: When seventeen year old Remus Lupin is thrust into the future, during Harry Potter's seventh year at Hogwarts, what's a poor werewolf to do? Furthermore, Dumbledore doesn't have any idea how to send him back? Is he to be stuck there forever? And will he want to be?

WARNING: This story contains SLASH- which means male-male relationships, and may or may not contain sexual situations (Will be decided later). It also contains cursing, sometimes used in excess. This is for mature readers only. Ignores some of Book 6, completely ignores Book 7. Sirius does not die.

Chapter Two

The Meeting and the Bet

Harry was nervous and jittery as he made his way to the Headmaster's office. After being so abruptly called from Professor Lupin's lesson he couldn't help but let his mind run through all of the possible reasons as to why, all involving a certain snake-faced wizard who refused to bite the dust. He was worried for his friends' parents, worried for the entirety of Hogwarts in case there was some sort of attack happening. He couldn't seem to get his mind to calm down, and everyone who knew Harry Potter knew he was not a calm boy when it came to pressure. In fact, it was usually his panicked thinking that got him through all of his tough situations, including when he had faced Voldemort the many times.

As he came upon the stone gargoyle that guarded Dumbledore's office, Harry paused. Shit, no one told me the damn password. He thought with a groan, staring at the stone beast as if it were the source of all of his problems. He was surprised when, a few seconds later the statue sprung out of his way. Slightly confused, but assuming that Dumbledore had known he was there, the teenager took the spiral staircase up to the office door and knocked briskly.

"Come in." His headmaster said in a cheerful tone, and as Harry pushed open the door he discovered that the ever-present twinkle was still apparent in the aged wizard's eye. Now he was further confused- if it were bad news, wouldn't the headmaster seem gloomier? Nevertheless, Harry took a seat in front of Dumbledore's desk and waited patiently for the explanation as to why he was called upon. "Lemon drop, Mr. Potter?"

"No, thanks." He responded lightly and with a hint of impatience. "What did you need to see me for, sir?"

"Ah, always right to the point, my boy." The white-haired wizard said with a short laugh, intertwining his fingers together and sitting both hands upon his desk, giving Harry a serious look. "I must ask you to do me a favor, Mr. Potter. It's very serious."

"So, then, this isn't about Voldemort?" Harry asked in relief, letting out the breath he'd been holding when Dumbledore shook his head in the negative.

"Merlin, no! Nothing quite as dramatic as all that, I'm afraid."

"Then, what is it sir?"

"I need you to look after a new student of ours." Harry felt his temper rise slowly. He'd been called here urgently to look after a bloody new student?

"Sir?" He asked testily, trying not to glare at his mentor.

"This is a student by the name of Remus Holmes. He's a transfer student from Durmstrang and has only just arrived today. We sorted him already and have discovered that he is a Gryffindor. The reason I am asking you to look after him, Mr. Potter, is because I believe he'll have trouble making friends. You're a very kind young man and I believe the two of you will get along famously, would you deny me this favor?" Dumbledore explained, peering at Harry in such a way that it made the boy feel slightly guilty for having gotten angry in the first place.

"No, Sir." He mumbled, staring at his feet instead of his headmaster.

"Splendid! I will just go and fetch him, then. Will you be so kind as to wait a moment?" The Headmaster asked happily, standing from his seat and not really waiting for a reply before he trotted out of the room.

"Sure, fine, I'll just wait right here then." Harry muttered sarcastically to the empty room as a whole.

He didn't really have a problem with helping a new student out. His issue lay in the fact that his being summoned to the headmaster had been so… dramatic. As he waited for the headmaster to return, Harry began to study the room he'd been to so many times during his life. It was the picture of chaos, things strewn here and there in no discernable order. A few of the portraits were staring at him and whispering to their neighbors, others were ignoring him and some even had the gall to sneer at him. After catching sight of a particularly rude portrait, Harry and the old man, and long dead if the clothes the man in the picture were wearing were any indication, had a glaring contest that was only interrupted by a cough from behind him.

The teenager stood and whipped around, coming face to face with someone eerily familiar and yet completely unknown. The boy before him looked about his age, about a head taller. His hair was a dusty blond, skin pale as the moon with dark brown eyes nearly the color of chocolate. Harry took in the Gryffindor robes that looked a bit raggedy on the thin frame of the other teenager, before turning his eyes to the faded scar that marked the side of his neck. It was so light you had to be looking extremely hard to see it. After a second, the raven-haired boy realized he was being rude and snapped to attention once again.

"Hello. I'm Harry Potter." He said, extending his hand in greeting.

Remus stared at the boy for a full minute, not realizing that he'd spoken until his expression turned to one of bewilderment. The teenager looked so much like James; it was as if he were looking at his best friend's twin. And the eyes- the eyes were nearly the exact shade of Lily Evans'. There were only two differences that he could make out that separated the two boys from each other. Where James had midnight black hair, Harry's was a bit on the browner side. He assumed that he'd gotten that from Lily's red hair. Then there were the statures; Harry was shorter than his father had been at that age, though less thin, with broader shoulders.

"Remus Holmes." He muttered, grasping the proffered hand and shaking it shortly. It was just weird to be standing before the son of his best friend who happened to be his age. Though they looked alike, the werewolf still wasn't able to connect that this was his friend's son.

Harry was a bit confused now. When he'd introduced himself he'd fully expected to either be revered, like by most that met the 'boy-who-lived', or sneered at like those who hated him. He didn't often get the blank look that indicated that the person on the receiving end of his greeting had no blinking idea who the hell he was in the first place. And seeing as this teen was a seventh year, he couldn't assume that he'd been raised by muggles and hadn't known. He'd attended Durmstrang, after all.

"Wonderful, you two are acquainted now. Mr. Potter, would you be so kind as to take Mr. Holmes to your next class? I've seen his time table and he has all of your classes." Dumbledore said from behind them.

"Sure. C'mon, Remus." The raven-haired teen replied, turning toward the door to exit the room. "Bye Professor Dumbledore."

"Goodbye, Mr. Potter and Mr. Holmes. I hope the two of you become fast friends!"

"Bye." Remus said before following the other teen from the room.

They didn't say anything for a while, just silently walked toward the Transfiguration class room, each caught in their own thoughts. Remus was still silently grieving over the death of his friends, and therefore didn't feel up to holding a conversation either way. Harry just couldn't seem to find anything to say to the 'new' kid, and so they stayed silent until it nearly became awkward for the raven-haired teen.

"So, what was Durmstrang like? I was able to learn a bit about it in fourth year, when the triwizard tournament was held here. From what I gathered it was a dark arts school mostly." Harry commented as they turned a corner and he narrowly avoided running into a speedy little first year.

"Yes, it was a rather dark and dreary place to be. I never liked it there, nor did I enjoy the courses they taught. I just don't have a dark gene in my body, it seems." Remus responded, momentarily amusing himself with the 'dark gene' comment, firmly stopping the smirk that was worming its way upon his features. Then a thought crossed his mind that made him falter. What was he going to do when the full moon arrived? He knew that the Headmaster already knew of his monthly issue, but they hadn't discussed it. Perhaps Dumbledore just needed time to think on it, seeing as he couldn't very well shack the younger wolf up in his elder self's lunar lodgings.

"The people there seem pretty uptight, as well." Harry replied, shaking his head at the memory of Krum and the disaster, in general, that fourth year had been.

"Yeah, they were the worst sort of people. Always looked down on anyone who didn't have an ego the size of the Atlantic. It's really a breath of fresh air to be away from that insanity." The werewolf replied with a grin.

The conversation stopped as the two came upon what Remus knew was the Transfiguration class room. He was glad that it hadn't changed locations since his time, as having to re-memorize the school after seven years of attending it would be quite bothersome. There were students milling about all around the closed door, half being Slytherins while the rest were Gryffindors. His companion led him over to two of their housemates, a girl with extremely wild hair that seemed to have a life of it's own and a boy that reminded him of someone in his own time, what with the red hair and freckles, although Remus was lost as to who it was.

"Hermione, Ron, this is Remus Holmes. He's just transferred from Durmstrang and Dumbledore felt the need to assign me as his guide until he gets used to things around here." Harry introduced.

"Hello, pleasure to meet you." The girl said, smiling at him brightly and readjusting her too-full book satchel.

"Hi." Was all the red-head said, extending a hand in greeting which Remus quickly shook. Hermione peered at him from behind the bushy mass on her head, a calculating gleam in her eye.

"So why did you transfer here so late in the year, Remus?" She asked and the werewolf could have sworn that there was a suspicious tone in her voice. Frowning, he responded with the first thing that entered his thoughts.

"I wasn't doing very well there, didn't enjoy their lessons. My parents thought that it would be a good idea to place me somewhere else before I failed and had to retake my last year." Well that was about as stupid as excuses go! Remus thought with a mental groan. Way to make someone trust you.

"Really?" Hermione cut through his mental berating, and the suspicion that was formerly veiled with politeness was no longer indistinguishable. Remus fidgeted and Hermione zeroed in on the action. She knew for certain now that the new student was hiding something and silently made it her goal to figure out what it was. She wasn't a vicious person by nature, but after years of being friends with 'the-boy-who-lived' she'd had to be twice as perceptive and cautious. Thinking to shrug off the matter for now, until classes were over and she had time to think privately, she continued in a happier tone. "Well, if you ever need help with your studies here, you're welcome to ask me."

"Yeah, Hermione's our resident bookworm." Ron said with a grin and Remus let out a silent breath of relief. He knew, from the gleam in the girl's eye, that he was going to have to be twice as cautious around her. He wondered if the three friends were well acquainted with his future self, and if so he was going to have his work cut out for him. He decided that later, after curfew and everyone went to bed, he'd have to sit and figure out a foolproof story for his life pre-time travel. He couldn't afford to think on his feet and let something inadvertently slip that could give himself away.

Remus had a headache. No, he had a fucking migraine. Between the task of keeping up with the seventh year curriculum, which was completely different from the lesson plans during his time, trying to keep himself as anonymous as possible around Hermione and not let anything incriminating out, seeing so many familiar faces of people he knew but didn't because they were the bloody children of all of his class-mates, it was a wonder he hadn't had a mental breakdown on his first day. His first class, Transfiguration, he had met the teacher. Again. It was McGonagall, which was refreshing because at least he knew that some of the teachers were the same, whether the course work be or not, but it was extremely disconcerting to see a twenty-years-older version of his favorite professor.

Though he'd already been quite aware of the fact that he was no longer in his era, how could he not, the sight of the now nearly completely gray-haired woman had just served to drive home that fact at a startling level. He wasn't where he was meant to be. And it left him feeling utterly alone in the world.

After the first class, which in its self hadn't gone badly, he'd come face-to-face with a person with features so distinctive there was no doubt to what lineage they belonged. Draco Malfoy was the impudent brat of Lucius, the sadistic bastard who enjoyed tormenting everyone in his own time. And apparently the apple didn't quite fall far from the tree, if this afternoon were any indication. The blonde and Harry seemed to be mortal enemies, which reminded Remus of James and Lucius in his own time. They had shot a few snide remarks at each other, both wearing similar expressions of righteous malice on their faces, before Hermione had managed to grab Harry and pull him away from the bastard. After that, Remus had to endure nearly two hours of Ron's gibbering about 'the git' and few, amusing though the werewolf didn't condone violence, stories of previous encounters between the two adversaries.

A few other things had sent a shock through his system, as well. After Transfiguration had been lunch, and during the meal he'd spied a glance at two people that he knew at the staff table. The first he'd caught sight of had been a tall, pale and snarky looking man wearing robes almost blacker than his hair. It was Severus Snape, and Remus was shocked at seeing him. He never would have thought given the torture the man had gone through during his own school years that he'd return and become a professor. A quick question directed toward his three baby-sitters and he'd learned that Snape was the potions master. That made a bit more sense considering how adept the man was at that course, even topping Remus himself in grades. The next familiar face was a man, in between pale and tanned, with sandy light brown hair and amber-brown eyes, an easy smile on his face as he discussed something or the other with another professor. It was himself, older, but there could be no mistaking it. One thing he found amusing was that his older half had a mustache. Remus had been trying for three years to grow one, and never seemed to be able to. He wondered when it finally started to take off, or if he'd perhaps used a potion to aid it along. The next thing that he noticed about his older counterpart were the wrinkles that lined his face, and he was surprised to note that there were only a few less smile lines than there were frown lines. He couldn't imagine how he'd been able to go through the disaster that his life had turned into and still have the will to be happy every now and then. He found himself, oddly enough, admiring this older version for his pure will to live.

After that, he'd had History of Magic with Binns, who seemed to have died somewhere between his seventh year twenty years ago and now. Though he didn't like death on principal, especially after having been informed that everyone he knew was either dead or had been on the verge of it at one point, he couldn't really feel much remorse for the jolly ghost professor as he'd never been particularly fond of him. That had been the last class of the day and Remus was glad for it, as he had so much information bouncing around in his mind that he felt completely overloaded. He needed time to process it all, and the hour before he'd met Harry hadn't been nearly enough. He'd decided that he should keep everyone in this future at a distance, seeing as he wouldn't be here forever and wouldn't want anyone getting attached to him only to find that he would be gone eventually. Despite that, though, he found himself becoming fast friends with James' son, who was so much like his father.

Harry had many of his father's quirks, like he was on the quidditch team and seemed totally consumed with the sport, had an infatuation with a girl who seemed to want nothing to do with him (Some Asian girl that Remus hadn't caught the name of), loved to laugh and was often seen pranking his fellow dorm mates in many different ways, mostly with the help of Ron. The similarity between his best friend and his best friend's son made Remus gravitate toward him naturally. He felt as if he still had his friend when he was around Harry, and it made a portion of his loneliness fade.

After everyone had gone to sleep that first night, Remus sat up for two hours thinking over everything that had happened. He was still devastated over the news of James and Lily's deaths, Sirius' imprisonment in Azkaban and Peter's betrayal. He wanted, more than anything, to be able to retain this information and warn those closest to him of the danger that was coming soon. But he knew that it wouldn't matter, history had its course already and it was not for him to change it. Still, he was a seventeen year old and though very mature for his age, he held a bit of irresponsibility when it came to things he was passionate about. The safety of his friends was one of those things. Perhaps he could research ways to block memory charms, so that when Dumbledore had to send him back and erase the information he learned, he'd be able to keep it all? No, that wasn't likely to work; as even before researching it Remus knew that there was no way for someone to disregard a memory spell. To even attempt to do so was bound to have disastrous, if not deadly results for the attempter.

That was when he was struck by an idea that could possibly work. He quickly and quietly jumped from his bed, which had been added while he was in classes and situated between Ron and Harry's beds, and dug around in the trunk at the foot. Dumbledore had taken the liberty to buy him everything he'd need for his stay here; supplies for classes, some clothing and shoes as well as a bit of reading material of his own. Remus shifted through everything and finally snatched a roll of parchment, a quill and an ink jar from the contents. He was going to keep a log of everything he learned in the future that he wanted to change, starting with the most important.

The next day the quartet was sitting at breakfast, two discussing quidditch while Hermione read over a potions book and Remus contemplated silently to himself. A frustrated voice broke him from his thoughts and he tuned into the conversation taking place between the other two boys at the table, while Hermione just huffed, rolling her eyes and ignoring them completely. Obviously this girl was not a quidditch fan in the least.

"I'm telling you, we're doomed!" Ron cried, swinging his fork in exaggerated movements while he spoke. "Angelina and Alicia graduated, everyone who's tried out for the open chaser positions have been complete boneheads, and we've got a game coming up in a month. Timothy Douglas and Arnold Shepherd are not going to cut it this year, not if we want the cup. Now, we got lucky getting Dean and Seamus to play the beaters, as obviously those guys have some anger to vent and are good at it, but what are we going to do with the idiots who are only taking up space on the team? There has got to be at least one person better suited to the position. Getting rid of just one of those bloody morons would be an improvement!"

"I know, but it's not like I can just snap my fingers and instantly have someone competent apply! I may be the boy-who-lived but I'm not that bloody talented." Harry shot back with frustration, moodily stabbing at his eggs as if they'd done him a personal disservice.

"Honestly, you two act as if one lousy quidditch season is the end of the world. It's not everything, you know!" Hermione muttered, angrily flipping a page in her book. Ron and Harry huffed in disagreement.

"Just because you're scared shitless of anything relating to a broom doesn't mean you can criticize us for liking the sport, Hermione. It's the last time Harry and I will get to play for the team, we graduate after this year you know, we have to get the cup. It is a matter of life or death!" Ron growled at her, shoving his breakfast plate away from him roughly. Harry nodded in agreement and Remus just snorted in amusement at the goings-on.

"What, you going to agree with miss up-tight?" Ron barked at him, sending a heated glare at the silent boy. Remus sighed in resignation.

"No, I just never found much use for the sport myself. My friends at Durmstrang were about as obsessed with it as you two, though, and I found myself learning the game whether I wanted to or not. I imagine they're working themselves into a frenzy to be the best team there for their last year, as well." He replied calmly and with a slightly wistful tone. How he missed James and Sirius!

"Well I personally think this is childish. There are far more important things than flying, like the war and He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named! You two need to get your heads out of your arses and concentrate on what's important!" Hermione said fiercely, snapping her book closed and stuffing it in her pack, as if preparing to stalk off once she finished the task.

"Don't mind her; she never learned how to properly fly. Couldn't even get her broom to levitate in first year!" Ron whispered conspiratorially to Remus, who chuckled and quickly covered it with a cough when the girl's furious glare landed on him.

"If I wanted to, I could fly as well as nearly anyone in this school, Ronald! I choose not to lower myself for the standards of Neanderthals such as you!" She grated out and Remus felt himself twitch as a mischievous idea was planted. He suddenly smiled, much too sweetly to be innocent, and looked Hermione dead in the eye.

"Then beat me, my dear."

Once a Marauder, always a Marauder.

A/N: Well, let me know what you think of this. Remember, this life of this story depends on its reviewers, so if you read and enjoy it please be sure to let me know!