Author's note: TW emetophobia and internal homophobia
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Remus was still laughing in the morning, and kept laughing randomly throughout breakfast while his three friends glared angrily at him. He knew they'd try to get him back, so he let his wolf instincts take over. Except he did want to let them 'get' him back because otherwise it would escalate into something big. So after Herbology when he stepped out of his shower and smelled something funny in his clothes, he merely checked to make sure it wasn't dangerous then got dressed. His friends laughed at his cry of disgust at the mixture of oozing mud and itching powder coating the inside of his trousers, he threatened them a bit, then it seemed to be agreed they got his revenge after he got another shower (though he was scratching at his legs for awhile).
He hoped that was all, at least. Due to their focus on getting the Slytherins, he figured they weren't going to do much more to him.
Just before noon Remus went to wait across the hall from the Transfiguration classroom, clutching his satchel in his lap as he thought about which electives to cut from his list. Soon his foot began jiggling and he felt violently ill by the time her class let out. A stream of older Hufflepuffs and Slytherins went past and then McGonagall stepped out, pausing when she saw Remus sitting there.
"I—I can come back tonight," he said, nervously getting to his feet.
"No, no, come in, I have a moment." She stepped back into the classroom. Remus followed, fumbling in his bag for the sheet of papers with the electives written on it. "I am assuming this is more than merely handing in your chosen electives," she said as she sat at her desk.
Remus put the paper down and stepped back, twisting the handle of his bag around his finger.
McGonagall took the paper, lifting her eyebrows. "I see."
"I—I know I c-can't take all of them," he whispered, "but I couldn't decide, and thought you might be able to help me ch—"
"Who says you can't take all of them?" she inquired.
Remus swallowed. "Um, well, I know from—I know that usually it—it's students who go on to—to become Prefects and Head Boy or Girl, or—or even go on to do—do really amazing things. I… I can't. I can't do that, so I… I know it's not really—I mean, it's fine that I can't take them all."
McGonagall pressed her lips into a thin line. "To be completely honest, I would have been surprised to find you hadn't chosen all the electives. Most of those who do take all the electives happen to go on to do those things because they are smart and driven. Some do not become well-known or famous. The possibility of doing amazing things is not a prerequisite for these classes. Mr. Lupin… Remus… you are one of the brightest students I've ever taught. If I allowed any of my students to undergo the difficulty of taking all the electives, it would be you. Now. That being said… I want you to understand how difficult it will be before making your final decision." She pulled a piece of paper out of her desk and pushed it over. "That is the current third year Gryffindors' timetable. Yours would be very similar."
Remus glanced over it, seeing very few free periods. He quickly counted them. Nine. Nine free periods total, over five days; as opposed to the sixteen the other Marauders would get, and the fourteen they currently had.
"If you continue with all the electives, it is going to get harder in your fourth, and very hard in your fifth," McGonagall said. "I have every faith that you can do it, however I need you to be aware of the hard work and labor you will be taking on. It is exhausting. Of course, if you choose to drop any of the electives at any time that is—"
"I can take them all?" he asked, lifting his chin, her words finally sinking in.
McGonagall studied him for a second. "Yes," she finally said. "If you are willing to try, I will more than gladly put your name down for every elective."
"Yes," he said without hesitation. "Yes please. Please, Professor, I—I want this so much. I want to to—I—"
"All right," she said, giving one of her rare smiles. "You're very eager. Yes, you may take all of the electives."
"Thank you!" He quickly set the timetable back down before he crinkled it up in excitement. "Thank you, thank you Professor, that—I—thank you." He knew it was going to put a strain on his family's finances but that was a worry for another day. "Thank you."
McGonagall stood up, looking very bemused. "You're welcome. I am looking forward to seeing how you do next year. Now, let's get to lunch, shall we?"
Remus practically skipped out, his heart pounding with joy. He was allowed to take them all! He hadn't thought—he never thought he would be, but she said! And he was! HE COULD TAKE ALL THE ELECTIVES! He was going to learn about all of it. Muggles and creatures and numbers and runes and divination and—
"Whoa there!" Sirius laughed when Remus banged into the table. "You're out of it."
"Ahh, sorry," he said, sitting down, unable to get the huge grin off his face.
"Your meeting with McGonsie went well, I see," James remarked.
Remus was practically vibrating with excitement and joy. He wasn't sure the last time he had felt so much joy! He had been so happy at other times but all those times were mingled with other emotions. Like the Marauders accepting him as a werewolf. That had taken a while to feel joy and it was still mixed in with fear and concern. But this? This was pure, unadulterated joy!
"Did someone hit you with a happiness spell or something?" Sirius asked.
"Maybe he got into our butterbeer stash," suggested James.
He shook his head, barely aware of the teasing. "No. No, I—I can take all the electives!" he said, the words bursting out like he had won a hundred galleons. James, Sirius, and Peter gave him strange looks which he had been expecting; he doubted they'd understand why this made him so excited. He was on the verge of trying to tamp down his exuberance when they began congratulating him, smacking his shoulders and patting his back.
"I'd consider that a punishment," James joked, "but I know you're happy about it so I'm happy for you, mate."
"Are you going to have any free time next year?" Peter asked.
"Yes," Remus answered. "It—Professor McGonagall showed me the timetable of this year's third year Gryffindors. Um, there are nine free periods for me." He began piling food on his plate, not surprised when they wanted to know about their own schedule. "Sixteen," he explained.
James punched the air. "All right! That's more than we do now!"
"That is due to the fact we will be given another lesson slot, plus the fact we currently have two double classes two times a week," Remus explained, putting together a sandwich. He kept dropping the toppings since he was so joyous. "Herbology and Defense fill up four slots each, instead of two."
"Will it be the same timetable?" Peter wanted to know. "Exactly the same? What did it look like?"
Sirius chimed in with, "Did they have classes every morning at eight?"
"They did," Remus admitted, and Peter frowned. "It will probably be very similar, if not identical. I suppose it depends on the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher."
"Wait, you mean—isn't Prewett…?" Peter glanced towards the High Table.
Remus followed his gaze, pleased that his stomach only did a tiny little flipflop and not the usual loop-de-loop.
"Of course not," James snorted. "There's a curse on the position, remember?"
"Professor Prewett is leaving at the end of the year," Remus said, finally finishing his sandwich after multiple attempts. "He told me during one of my makeup exams in the autumn term."
Sirius made a face. "Ah, damn. Prewett's a good teacher."
"I wonder who will come in next year," James mused.
Remus didn't want to think about that though. Prewett was a brilliant teacher. He thought about the fact Prewett was going to be leaving, as they headed to Defense class. At the door, he hesitated, a little afraid to go in. What if once they were in a room together those feelings came back? He didn't move until Sirius gave him a gentle push since he was blocking the door.
No, Prewett didn't stir any wrong feelings. Not even when he looked up and smiled at the Marauders, welcoming them. The moment he spoke, though, he stirred something.
The wolf, to be specific.
The hair on the back of Remus's neck went up, and he knew something was wrong. Something was off. Nobody else seemed to notice. The other Marauders were cheerfully placing their holiday assignments on the desk, chattering to Prewett about how it was good to see him again. Remus reluctantly approached the desk, and the wrongness assaulted him. Not the wrong feelings but the fact…
It's not Professor Prewett, he realized, staring wide-eyed at his… teacher?
It looked like Professor Prewett. Freckles and all. Only there was something wrong about the smile, something wrong about the way he said 'thank you' when Remus slowly put his assignments down, something completely wrong about his scent especially. It was all off.
Not Professor Prewett, Remus thought again as he took his seat, all the happiness from earlier replaced with electric nerves. It's not him. It's someone… faking… pretending… someone pretending to be him… someone has taken his place!
Who was it, then? It looked and sounded so much like the real Professor Prewett just… slightly different. Polyjuice potion? Remus wondered, chewing at his quill. Something else? What else makes a person look like someone else? Or—what else could it be? Does Dumbledore know? Surely Dumbledore would know if someone was pretending to be one of the teachers?
'Professor Prewett' began teaching. It was mostly lecturing, some discussion about the exams at the end of the term. His movements were similar to the real Professor Prewett but not quite. The inflections in the way he spoke were wrong too. It was all off. Remus began to grow more and more nervous, unable to pay attention. How any else could pay attention was beyond him. How anyone didn't notice was beyond him! It was so obvious!
Or… maybe not so obvious. Perhaps it was his wolf senses that made it so obvious? Or—or because of how he used to feel? Oh, he thought, realizing that his wrong feelings might not be really gone, it might just be because it wasn't the real Professor Prewett. It became even more obvious since Remus didn't raise his hand at all, and the fake teacher didn't seem confused about it, nor did he ever call on Remus when nobody else knew the answer. He was so obviously fake!
Is the real Prewett okay? Remus sat back, unable to even take notes. What happened to the real one? Now he grew worried, afraid this impostor had done something bad to the real Professor Prewett. Do I go to Professor Dumbledore?
The fake Prewett dismissed class, and Remus was jolted out of his thoughts, shocked that two hours had already gone by. Slowly he packed his things away, confused by his friends acting as though everything was normal!
"Hurry up!" Sirius said, noticing Remus was still putting his things away.
Remus glanced at the front of the room where the fake Prewett was going through the essays. Dare he? "A—a moment," he said, stomach twisting, feeling like a pit of acid. The best course was to leave the room, to go to Dumbledore. Instead he waited; waited until everyone else left the room then he approached the desk. "P—Professor?"
The fake Prewett glanced up. "Er, can I help you?" he asked, an awkward smile spreading.
"I had a q-q-question," Remus stammered out.
Fake Prewett shuffled the essays, straightening them out. "I'm sorry, I don't have very much time at the moment. Is it all right if we discuss this next class?"
"It's q-quick. Um—about my—my assignment. If you t-take it out, I can show you," Remus found himself saying. He supposed he hoped that for some reason something was going on and it was really Professor Prewett and just—something going on.
"Ah, you've already handed it in," he said apologetically.
Remus shook his head. "No, I—I d-d-don't want to change anything. I w-wanted to show you quickly. A question. A—about—about something." Fake Prewett hesitated. "It's v-very quick," Remus assured him.
Fake Prewett frowned, and Remus thought he might say no. Then he spread out the essays in a fan, making it clear that Remus was to take his own essay out of the pile.
Because he didn't know which one belonged to Remus.
He didn't know the biggest, thickest roll of parchment was Remus's.
He didn't know Remus's name.
Fake.
"What's your question?" he asked, that smile practically mocking Remus.
Remus took a step back. "N—n-n—n-n—" He was unable to get even one word out. Fake Prewett's forehead wrinkled, and Remus took another step back. "I h—have—have to—I—"
Then he turned and fled out of the room, heart racing a million miles an hour. He heard fake Prewett say 'hey wait!' but he didn't stop. He kept going. He knocked into his friends then grabbed whoever was nearest and pulled him along, the others following. He wasn't sure if fake Prewett was too.
Should have kept my cool, he thought, realizing that fake Prewett probably knew now that Remus suspected something. Or perhaps he only thought Remus was weird? That was a possibility. Would he do something?
"Why are we running?" Peter wanted to know, the one Remus had grabbed.
"Did you prank Prewett?" James asked eagerly.
They don't know, they have no idea. Remus ducked down a side corridor and finally stopped, letting Peter go.
"What happened?" Sirius asked, collapsing against the wall next to him. "You bolted out of there. Did Prewett do something?"
Yes, he disappeared, that's what he did. Remus clutched his chest, shaking his head, not sure what to say. How to explain it. Out of everyone in the school they'd understand the most, since they knew his wolf senses. However he wasn't sure what they'd do if he told them. Perhaps laugh? Or if they did believe them, would they want to do something about it?
Sirius was suddenly in his face, clutching his shoulders. "Remus, what's wrong?"
"Nothing," he panted out. "Nothing, really. I—it's nothing."
"Did he do something?" James wanted to know, suddenly wary. "Did he say something like—like Dedenne?"
Remus looked past Sirius's shoulder. "No." He wished Sirius would let go of him. "No, nothing like—it's nothing, really. I—I need to—I—" If he said he needed to talk to Dumbledore they'd definitely know something was really wrong. "I—I had a question, um—um about my—you know, and Prewett didn't know and I felt—felt awkward about it. That's all. I—I'll ask Fawley tonight."
Was that believable enough?
Sirius let go of his shoulders, moving back. "Is that really all?" he wanted to know, sounding dubious.
Remus swallowed. "Uh-huh." He hefted his bag higher up on his shoulder, trying to look more composed. They reluctantly accepted this, though he could tell they didn't fully believe him. He spent a little while wandering around with them, trying to act like nothing was wrong. After sufficient enough time passed, he made up an excuse in order to separate from his friends.
He took the long way to Dumbledore's office, then stood in front of it, not sure of the password. The previous one no longer worked. After several failed attempts he sat on the bench across the hall until one of the nearby paintings alerted the headmaster he had someone wanting in. The gargoyle opened up, and Remus traveled upward. Every twist of the stairs felt like it was twisting his stomach until he reached the top and it felt like he might throw up.
"Come in," Dumbledore said after Remus gave a timid knock. The headmaster was standing at his window, looking out at the forest bursting with May newness. He turned, smiling at Remus. "Mr. Lupin, good to see you. Come, have a seat."
Remus approached the desk, way too keyed up to sit. Instead he hovered a bit, tugging at the hem of his sleeveless jumper. "I—I—I'm s-s-s-sorry to bother, sir, but—but—" Dumbledore waited patiently, pale blue eyes locked on Remus. Remus took in a deep breath, forcing the words out. "It's a—about—about Professor Prewett."
"Prewett?" Dumbledore raised an eyebrow. "Has something happened?"
"Y—yes, sir, I—I believe so." His voice was raspy and hoarse. "I—I d-don't know what but—the—the thing is—it—it's-not-him!" Now Dumbledore's other eyebrow lifted as well. "It's not him," he said again. "Not—it's not him, sir."
"Not him? What do you mean?"
"It—it's s-someone p-pretending to be him." Finally he sat, one arm wrapped around his stomach to try to keep it settled. "It isn't him at all. I—I don't think it's been him since—since we came back from the holidays. At least since Sunday."
Dumbledore folded his hands together and rested his chin against them. "What makes you think so?"
Remus ducked his head, sitting down now. "My—my—I—I c-c-can tell." Suddenly he realized half the reason he knew was because of those wrong feelings. Not having them, plus—plus he doubted it was completely his wolf senses that could tell the way the fake Prewett moved made it obvious. Could the wolf tell? Or was it from all the time spent staring at him? Not that he stared at him for that reason, of course. "He smells different. He sounds a little different too. I—it's mostly the smell. Then he—he didn't know my name."
Dumbledore gazed levelly at him, taking all of this information in. When Remus finished, he straightened up. "Thank you for coming to me, Remus, however I don't think it's anything to worry about."
Remus's eyes went very wide at that. "But—"
"He is probably having an off day."
"No," Remus said, not even thinking about the fact he just told the Albus Dumbledore that he was wrong. "No, sir, no—it—it's something—there's something wrong, it isn't him. It isn't! I know it isn't!"
"Professor Prewett spent his holidays at home," Dumbledore said slowly as if speaking to a child. "That probably made his… scent seem a little different."
"No," he said again. "I—I don't mean to argue, sir, but it is not him. It is someone pretending to him. I think it may be polyjuice potion."
"Polyjuice potion?" Dumbledore inquired.
"Or—or something," he added quickly. "I'm not sure. I just know it isn't Professor Prewett, it's someone pretending to be him. Look, I know it sounds crazy—very crazy—but I know it's not him. It's not!"
"Mr. Lupin, I promise that everything is fine," Dumbledore said, rather sternly. "While your concerns are understandable, they are also misplaced." Remus wasn't sure how to take that. "Do you trust me?"
"Yes," he whispered, chewing at his bottom lip. Dumbledore nodded, beginning to stand up. "But—" Dumbledore sank back into his chair, looking impassive but giving off the feeling of exhaustion. "But it's—it's not him—and if it's not him then—then the real Professor Prewett could be in—in danger, sir."
"Remus, I think you're overreacting."
Remus felt heat creeping through his face and he jumped to his feet. "I'm not! I'm not! It—I know I'm right! And—"
"Have you told anyone else?"
"N—no, I—I wanted to come to you first," he said. "Because I thought you—you'd want to know someone is—has taken the place of one of the—the teachers!"
Dumbledore studied him for several seconds. "You're not willing to drop this, are you?"
He hesitated, finding that a strange thing to say. "No… I—I know I'm right. I don't know what hap—happened to Professor Prewett, but if something has, we—someone needs to—to do something to help him."
Dumbledore got to his feet again. "Very well. Follow me."
Remus followed Dumbledore out of his office. Were they going to confront the fake Prewett right now? With Remus there? Despite feeling safe with Dumbledore, he couldn't shake the fear consuming him at the thought of doing this…
They made their way to the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom and Dumbledore knocked. When the fake Prewett said to come in, Dumbledore stepped in. "I'm afraid I need to borrow you for a moment," he said pleasantly.
"Very well. I'll be right back, students. Behave," he added with a laugh that grated Remus's nerves.
The fake Prewett stepped out of the classroom and was startled to see Remus who backed up. Dumbledore simply turned and went to Prewett's office, opening the door. The fake Prewett went in first, and Remus went in only after Dumbledore nodded at him. Dumbledore didn't seem concerned at all, though when Remus went in he could tell the fake Prewett was slightly nervous.
"Is something the matter?" Fake Prewett asked, managing to pretend like nothing was wrong.
Dumbledore shut the door. "It seems Mr. Lupin here is under the impression you are not, in fact, Fabian Prewett. He's quite insistent, actually."
Fake Prewett stared at Remus who tried to look brave but he knew he probably just looked pathetic. "How odd," he said, leaning against his desk in almost exactly the right mannerism as the real Prewett except there was something off about it. He thought the real Prewett preferred to cross his left ankle over his right, and this one had his right ankle over his left; or maybe Remus was imagining that? Why would Remus's brain keep that as a need-to-know memory!? "I don't know if this is something to interrupt my class for—"
"Mr. Lupin is a very inquisitive young man," Dumbledore explained. "I'm afraid this is something he will not simply dismiss his accusations upon my assurance that everything is fine alone."
That's when Remus realized that whatever was going on… Dumbledore knew! Remus stumbled back, head reeling as he realized he probably made a very big, very stupid mistake. He had—Oh Merlin, he thought, trying to fight the very strong urge to throw up. How could he have made such a monumental mistake?! He had assumed that—and—but it—it was a fake Prewett though! His gaze darted back and forth between them, hoping he wouldn't get in trouble.
"Professor," fake Prewett said.
Dumbledore smiled. "It's either tell him the truth, or erase his memory which I am not very inclined to do. He is… a trustworthy young man." The Headmaster looked at him. "He can keep a secret."
"I—uh—" Remus didn't know what to say besides beg them to let him run away and hide somewhere, dwelling on his utter stupidity.
"I trust you will keep this secret," Dumbledore continued, facing Remus. "This is a very important secret."
"I—yes—yes, I—but—but you—you d-don't—" Remus fumbled with his words, entire body shaking as his anxiety grew worse. He wanted to disappear.
"Go ahead," Dumbledore said.
Fake Prewett pushed himself away from his desk. "Very well. Yes, you are right. I am not Fabian Prewett."
Remus's heart jumped clear into his throat.
Fake Prewett picked up a framed photo off of Prewett's desk. There were several photos, most of which the students had seen. Those were the pictures of Professor Prewett's two nephews, whom he sometimes gushed about in class. The one fake Prewett chose was not one of these. It was one Remus hadn't seen before.
Two young men and a young woman squashed together. The two men were almost identical. The only real difference was that one had his red hair long and in a ponytail, while the other had his red hair cropped at around his ears.
"I'm Gideon Prewett, Fabian's twin," the man explained, very kindly.
Remus blinked, unable to breathe.
"You see, Fabian is doing me a favor," Dumbledore said. "A very big, very important favor uniquely suited to his investigative skills. Unfortunately, it is taking longer than either of us expected and he was unable to return at the end of the Easter holidays. Due to the nature of the favor, it is imperative nobody knows he is gone. That nobody suspects he is… possibly doing what he is doing."
"Albus contacted me, asking me to take Fab's place until he returned," fake Prew—no, real Prewett, another Prewett, Gideon… Gideon Prewett said. "I had some leave due, so I took a few days off, spinning a story about traveling by myself for a little bit. That way nobody is suspicious about my disappearance from the Ministry."
Professor Prewett was doing work for Dumbledore? His twin took his place so nobody knew? What could it possibly be that makes it imperative to pretend Professor Prewett is still here? he couldn't help but wonder.
"Is—is it—is it dangerous?" he squeaked out. "What—what P-Professor Prewett is—is doing?"
Mr. Prewett coughed, averting his gaze. Dumbledore looked down his long nose, directly into Remus's eyes. "I won't lie to you. Yes. It is very dangerous, especially if… certain people realize he is doing this. Which is why…" He trailed off and motioned towards Mr. Prewett.
"Oh."
"Don't worry, my brother is very tenacious," Mr. Prewett said. "He'll be fine. He should be back here tomorrow night, actually, providing all goes well."
Dangerous, he thought, chewing once more on his lip. "He—he'll be back t-tomorrow?"
"Yes," Mr. Prewett said.
"You won't tell anyone, correct?" Dumbledore asked.
"Oh, no," Remus promised. "I mean—yes. I—I mean—I w-won't tell anyone, not even—no, nobody, I swear."
Dumbledore reached down, fingers brushing against Remus's shoulder. "Thank you. I knew I could trust you." That filled Remus with fuzzy warmth. Dumbledore trusted him?
"Do you mind if I ask you how you knew I wasn't him?" Mr. Prewett asked. "We're usually very good at switching places, nobody else has ever guessed before. We've even fooled our own mother before."
Remus swallowed, knowing he couldn't explain everything. Not the smells, and certainly not the… feelings. "Ahh, you—you never c-called on me, in class," he finally said. "You didn't know my—my name after either."
Mr. Prewett nodded. "I was a little worried about that. Albus called you Lupin. Remus Lupin?" he asked, and Remus nodded. "My brother's spoken of you."
"Ah?" he squeaked, flooding with a heat that was very different than the warmth from Dumbledore's compliment. What?!
Mr. Prewett smiled again. "He says you're very smart, and have even more of a knack for this than we did when we were your age."
He knew he was going redder than a tomato. "Ahhh," he got out, voice strangled. "Th—thank—thank you…" Professor Prewett had said as much before, but hearing it from someone else that Prewett was saying these things? It was too much. He wanted to disappear again, for very different reasons. Also the knowledge was making him feel wobbly feelings, and sending tingles through his body to places that should absolutely not have tingles over the idea of his male Professor thinking he was so smart. Which meant his wrong feelings were not gone.
"We should let you get back to class," Dumbledore said, opening the door. "Thank you for the help. Come along, Mr. Lupin."
Remus gladly scurried out of the room, wanting to rush off to a bathroom to cool down before anything became too… noticeable. Like what happened over the holidays, because it felt like that was going to happen. According to Your Body at Hogwarts that was a common occurrence for boys going through puberty. Though he wasn't sure whether it was a common occurrence when what caused it was a shirtless male Quidditch player.
But it did say sometimes it happened without any triggers? So that was probably it, right? Maybe—maybe just the idea of someone thinking he was so smart regardless of gender was what made him… excited. That was a possibility, wasn't it?
He had no excuses for the magazine though, and did his best to deny it ever happened.
"Mr. Lupin?"
He froze, then slowly turned to Dumbledore. "Y-yes?"
"Thank you for coming to me with your concerns," the headmaster said. "I am very glad to know you do trust me."
"Of—of course, Professor. I'm s-sorry…"
"No, it is quite all right. Have a good day."
"You t-too."
Remus walked off at a normal pace until he turned a corner and then he bolted for the nearest bathroom to try to calm down from all the conflicting, strange feelings happening inside of him.
