Title: Orchestra of Blue
Author: Mir
Date: August 2, 2007- October 29, 2007
Disclaimer: I make no claim to any of the Harry Potter characters, its storyline,or its overall
universe. I do not write for compensation; I do not hold any copyrights; this is purely a hobby
that I pursue for personal pleasure.
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Author's note: Here's the first real chapter for your reading enjoyment.
A hearty thanks to everyone who read the first installment. By the end of
this one, you might still be wondering whether or not this piece has a plot.
But I've charted out the first few chapters, and (at least to my eyes) it at
least has some direction. In retrospect, I think this ended up being more
background information than anything else…. oops.
Supplemental note: As I said in the prologue notes, I am going back
though this story and changing it from first person POV to third person.
I'm also making some substantive edits, though the plot will remain
essentially the same. Apologies for the long delay 10/29/07
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Chapter One: Two By Two (December 1994)
'It happens to the best of us' he sighed as he shook his head at the overly ornate grandeur of the Ministry's entranceway. For what person can swear in complete honesty that he's never attended this or that function and wondered why, in the name of Merlin, he'd bothered to show up in the first place. This particular reception, Remus was sure, would undoubtedly be one of those affairs.
When the envelope had arrived (edged in gaudy gold and bearing that distinctive Ministry seal), he'd eyed it with curiosity and anticipation. After all, it's not every day that a poor, half-blood professor is invited to high-class (and expertly-catered) Ministry of Magic events. He'd thanked the little owl who appeared anxious to be on his way and read the address twice to make sure it hadn't been mis-delivered.
Mr. Remus J. Lupin, it is our pleasure to cordially invite you to the annual Ministry of Magic Christmas Reception held in honor of this year's graduating Auror class…"
Clearly, there had been no mistake. 'But why?' he wondered as he dropped the oversized card down onto the table. 'Perhaps it's just one of those perks of the job that no one bothers to mention until…they suddenly drop in by owl.' He smiled in amusement. Most of the students had already left for the holidays, and as he had nothing better to do on a lonely holiday evening, with a flick of his want he RSVPed to his first into high society. All things considered, it had seemed like a good idea at the time.
The doorman was short, stout, and in need of stronger glasses. Squinting over the half-oval spectacles, he frowned distastefully as though offended by his guest's very presence.
"Name please," he prompted with all the warmth of a Gringotts goblin.
"Remus Lupin," the other replied.
The doorman pretended to compare the response against the guest list clutched tightly in one sweaty hand, but it was clear that his gaze merely floated up and down the lengthy scroll as though he couldn't be bothered with such a mundane task. 'Probably just an unlucky desk-warming bureaucrat who pulled the short straw this year,' Remus thought as he shifted from foot to foot.
"Affiliation?" At the question, Remus clenched his teeth and reminded himself of the virtues of patience and civility.
"Hogwarts," he answered as he stared over the other man's shoulder at the ongoing festivities. 'Wouldn't a simple spell above the door have been a better way to keep out unwanted riffraff?' he wondered as he dismissed the Ministry's attempt at the human touch as a cumbersome anachronism.
"Enjoy your evening, Professor Lupin."
Nodding at the lackluster welcome, he ventured hesitantly into the main hall filled with swirling dress robes and glittering chandeliers. Of course the Ministry would take something as simple as a holiday party and turn it into a ridiculously elaborate affair. The new aurors—although the title wouldn't officially be theirs until after they'd completed their half-year apprenticeships—were conspicuously uniformed and remarkably sober considering the volume of alcohol available for consumption. Perhaps they'd been told to abstain until after their formal presented to the guests.
As he watched them float from group to group, diligently making small talk with important figures and networking with community figures for the sake of career, he couldn't help but notice their youth. 'Why, they're no more than kids', his mind protested. 'Are these the wizarding world's new protectors?' But the Marauders hadn't been any older when they'd first joined the Order all those years ago… He quickly pushed the memory aside. The present was no place melancholy thoughts of the past.
Thus lost in thought, it was a bright flash of color that caught his eye—out of place against that hideous dark prune hue that seemed regrettably to be all the rage that winter—it was bright violet, like…something he'd seen somewhere before. It dipped behind a pillar near the punch bowl, then veered off starboard toward the desserts. 'Why was it so familiar?' A velvet feathered hat obscured his vision, and for a moment he lost sight of his target.
"Ugh, my bad. I'm really sorry." He stumbled at the impact, hands instinctively reaching out to grab whatever, whoever had knocked him backward. It… she apologized repeatedly as they disentangled themselves and drew back a step for damage inspection. "…so clumsy, always bumping into things and such…"
His heart skipped a beat as he raised his eyes. 'Ah, violet.' She clutched what had been a full glass of punch in one hand, a small plate still bearing a multi-layered chocolate confection in the other.
"Accio napkin," he muttered, open hand aimed in the general direction of the table to his right. It was one of those useless paper cocktail-sized ones. He summoned another and switched the first for her empty punch glass before she had the opportunity to drop anything else. She half-smiled, half-grimaced, and began to dap dejectedly at the stain on her auror's uniform.
"Everything was going so well tonight," she remarked, wiping a splatter from her cheek. All Remus could see was a tumble of spiky, purple hair. "I knew it was too good to be true." She pulled out her wand (a good length for her, well-balanced, his subconscious interjected) as she placed the chocolate on the adjacent table. "Well, I guess some cleaning would be in order."
Remus nodded in agreement—every good wizard knows that it's never advisable to point one's wand at one's own chest and start incanting spells—and reached inside his robes to retrieve his own wand as well. At the motion something in her expression changed… a hint of confusion, then realization, and finally curiosity.
But she said nothing until they'd positioned themselves a comfortable distance apart, wands each raised at the ready. "On my count then," she began. "3, 2, 1—scourgify!" He noticed with the critical eye of a teacher that her aim was steady and her execution precise, without a trace of residual discoloration. But who would have expected anything less from a Ministry auror?
"Earlier," she began, seemingly satisfied with his handiwork because she replaced her wand and set about absently-mindedly smoothing her robes, "those napkins—" She paused, as if unsure whether to continue. "—you weren't using your wand." It was both a comment and a question.
After a pause, Remus nodded reluctantly, unsure of where the conversation was headed.
"It's not that they don't teach that kind of magic in school," she continued. "But most people just never use it in daily life…" She looked intently at him, really studied him for the first time since their chance meeting. "You don't really seem the type—" (his often-wounded self-esteem was sure she'd finish the sentence with 'who'd be able to pull that off') "—who normally comes to Ministry events."
Remus blinked in surprise and could tell by the change in her expression that she thought she'd offended him. So he reminded himself to smile—that teacher's pet sort of smile that Sirius had always teased him for—and hastily reassured, "You're right about that, I'm afraid." He shrugged to show that he wasn't in any way offended. "This is my first."
She squinted, looking him in the eye as the corner of her mouth began to pull upward into a smile. "Then you're not from one of those stuffy old families," she said in a way that suggested approval. "But I've a feeling you know more than the average wizard about magic above the ordinary levels…" There was something almost scientific about her appraisal. Yes, definitely some of that Ministry training kicking in. "I wonder…"
"…shall I end the suspense?" Remus interjected, beginning to blush awkwardly under her scrutiny. Perhaps he was worried that if she looked too closely she'd see through to his real secret—his 'furry little problem' as the Marauders liked to say. He didn't wait for her to reply. "I'm just your average Hogwarts professor, new this year..." The words sounded odd to his ears, as though even with a semester solidly behind him, they still didn't quite fit.
From her silence, he though for a moment that she didn't believe him, that she was going to laugh and reply, 'That's a good one. Now really, who are you?' But to his relief, she simply nodded and with unexpected insight commented, "You must be their new defense against the dark arts professor." She laughed, but he was sure this time that it wasn't at his expense. "The Ministry invites all the Hogwarts professors, but only someone new to the job would come to something as boring as this." She paused for a moment, then continued, "correct me if I'm wrong, but you look too sane to be truly enjoying yourself."
'Yes, insightful.' Perhaps he'd underestimated the Ministry's recruitment skills. After all, the bureaucracy couldn't very well be incompetent in everything it touched. "I don't suppose this is exactly your type of affair either," he replied, allowing himself a small smile in return. 'Sirius,' he memory noted, would have been flirting madly by now, of that much he was sure….
She crinkled her nose in distaste. "I've been subjected to my fair share," she replied in a vague, almost avoidant manner as her eyes wandered across the room. "And I've learned not to judge people by their looks." It was an odd statement in context, a non-sequitur of sorts. "Some of the gentlest actually turn out to be the most frightening."
Remus's breath stuck in his chest, and he froze as though he'd beenstupified. Had she guessed?… but her expression remained neutral enough, so, careful to keep his voice light, he ventured "—and I don't look frightening to you?"
She smile, shrugged, and smoothly countered, "Sorry, Professor. You'll have to try harder."
His mind, still absorbed with relief, barely noticed as one of her friends waved to her from across the room, and his half of the parting pleasantries fell somewhat short of completely coherent. But he doubted that she noticed as she dashed off, and it only occurred to him afterward that they hadn't even exchanged names. Not that it mattered, of course. She was right about one thing at least—this would be his first and last Ministry function for some time to come.
--
On his way home from the reception, perhaps against his better judgment, Remus stopped by his father's house. He'd learned over the years that it was better to arrive unannounced—minimized pre-meditated resentment. But their relationship had improved to the point that a drink or two and an hour of small talk was relatively harmless. Heapparated as he always did to the great gnarled oak in far corner of the yard.
"Remus, I didn't know you were going to stop by." His smile was genuine enough as he greeted his son. "Are those your dress robes…?" He pulled the door firmly closed and reset the bolts with an off-hand flick of his wand.
"Ministry function," Remus replied quietly as he divested himself of snowy outer-garments in the coatroom. "One of those over-the-top Christmas things, you know." His father had worked briefly at the Ministry before Remus was born—a topic they generally avoided by mutual consent. "I thought I'd stop by to say hello before going back to school."
"You're staying at Hogwarts over the holidays?" Reynard Lupin couldn't quite hide that hint of hopefulness in his tone, or maybe Remus simply knew his father well enough to read it into the otherwise innocent question.
"Not all the students can go home," he replied, knowing full well that it was a weak excuse for not returning home himself. "Dumbledore asked for faculty volunteers to stay behind as well." He had no doubt that his father was aware that Christmas would fall on a full moon that year—and his current house had no place for a werewolf to transform.
Reynard nodded, seemingly satisfied with his son's response. "I'm going over to see some old friends on Boxing Day. You're welcome to come..." Remus could tell he was making the offer simply to be polite, and it only took him a moment to decline with equal grace. 'Old friends' usually meant family acquaintances from the days before his mother left, and even if he'd felt up to it, his presence would have been awkward to say the least. Better to let the old-timers reminisce about their past among themselves.
"Well, since you're here tonight, will you stay and have a drink? It's almost Christmas anyway…"
Remus smiled as he followed his father into the kitchen—not the one he remembered from his childhood but nonetheless filled with all the things his mother had left behind when she'd taken his younger brother and disappeared one night into the French countryside. Remus had just turned ten at the time. He still carried a photo of the four of them together—a muggle one she'd taken with one of her antique cameras. She was a muggle after all. Reynard had never told him how they'd met.
Perhaps another man would have thrown out all the objects that carried memories of his wife, would have purged her belongings along with his heart, but Reynard, ever practical, had kept everything. 'What's the point of buying new dishes', he'd told Remus when they'd moved from the old house into the small flat shortly after her departure. 'You'll have to get used to your Mum being gone whether or not we get new china.' It was left unsaid that they didn't have the money to be so wasteful.
But now he lived alone and didn't cook as much as he used to, so some of the kitchen cupboards, Remus noticed, were lined with odd knickknacks instead of dishes. He reached up and pulled down a small porcelain vase—white, decorated with tiny blue flowers feathered across its surface. Initials etched in small letters onto its base read TMP. "Where did you get all this stuff," he asked to his father's back as the latter fished around into the opposite cupboard for glasses.
"Went through some of the boxes in the attic last month," he replied in a tone that didn't invite further questions.
Remus replaced the vase beside a small figurine and nodded, not entirely sure what to say. By that time, his father had found what he was looking for, and as Remus followed him back out into the living room, he couldn't help but feel as though there was something strange about that shelf of objects, something his tired mind couldn't quite wrap itself around. He shrugged and pushed the feeling aside.
And despite everything, the tense moments, the awkward silences, He enjoyed himself that evening. Surely, time works wonders on family relationships…
--
Endnotes: I went back and forth on whether or not to include the
second scene… then decided to throw in half of it and section off
the other part as an inter-chapter interlude. As other FF writers have
before me, I'm taking some poetic license with the Lupin family.
Supplemental Note: Again, this is a revision to a story begun in
August 2007. When I finish revision the existing chapters, I do plan
on continuing. Sorry for the delay!
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Chapter 2 Teaser:
The night Sirius arrived at Remus's flat—sporting striped Bermuda shorts and a deep tan—the latter had only just gotten in himself. It was a Tuesday, mid-June, about a week after the full moon. Remus hadn't seen him in months. Of course, the first thing he noticed as he wearily answered the door was an oversized black dog that promptly shoved his way inside and tracked mud across his carpet.
10.29.07
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