Mercury Lies
Chapter 17: to constellate
For a moment, a second which seemed to last for minutes, Remus was quiet, becoming acutely aware of the fact that the Forbidden Forest had fallen into a strange, almost reverential silence, broken only by the wind rustling the canopy of leaves above him, the sudden cold shift in the air that whispered of rain soon to come, and he felt the forest floor, humming with life, underneath him. It felt as if they weren't quite alone. He drew in a breath, and then looked to the side, meeting Black's gaze.
Black's eyes were a prismatic shade of grey, expressing both curiosity and a guarded carefulness.
Remus opened his mouth. 'I –' he began.
Black's eyes widened, just a fraction, and Remus realised that he had been clenching his fingers in the ground beside him. He unclenched them, and a small twig and dry, crackly mud left his grip, falling to earth. Some wet things remained, clinging to his palm, and Remus hoped, fervently, that they were leaves.
He realised that he wasn't quite sure how to continue. Given what he knew of Black, the rest of this conversation could unfold in so many different directions, it was hard to prepare for all of them. It was the same feeling he'd had the day of the Quidditch match, with Black leading him into the murky, unfamiliar depths of the Forbidden Forest.
'You're –' Remus tried again.
He felt a fool. Black was obviously right, and all that remained for Remus to do was to acquiesce. Everything that could go wrong already had, and to try and prolong it by denial or anger would, in the long run, amount to nothing. Yet still, now that the pivotal moment was there, Remus realised that he wasn't quite able to look away from the piercing look in Black's eyes. He felt oddly flat and detached, as if he was watching himself from far away. After all, Remus had already had every kind of conversation he could have after people learned what he was, the night before his fifth birthday.
That was when Fenrir Greyback had broken into Remus's bedroom, locked all the doors with a wave of his wand, gleefully introduced himself to a sleepy Remus, only to transform into a ferocious, raging werewolf once the moon had risen, minutes later. Cowardly, Remus had scrambled off the bed and into the green wardrobe when the transformation began, a wardrobe Greyback had easily destroyed, dragging Remus by his ankles through the wood and debris into the centre of the room. Terrified, Remus had produced a dazzling grey blast of magic from his hands, for the first time in his life, but it had not been powerful enough; it had driven the werewolf back, giving Remus time to run to the door, where his father and mother, woken by the noise, were desperately trying to come in.
'Please,' Remus had begged them, but Greyback had been able to shake off the shock of Remus's magic, and had grabbed hold of him again, dragging him onto the rug at the foot of the bed, the one his grandmother Rose had knitted for his nursery. The werewolf had howled in triumph at Remus's defencelessness, at his blind terror, and had then sunken his enormous teeth into Remus's thigh. All Remus could do, then, was scream, scream at the pain of it, as his blood splattered onto the rug, destroying it forever, his eyes cycling through a myriad of colours as his body, his magic, attempted to process the curse it was being fed.
His father had then finally managed to break down the door, blasting Greyback away from Remus. His mother had hurried into the room, completely disregarding her own safety, to lean over Remus, to sob and urge him to stay awake until they could get him help. Out of the corner of his eye, Remus saw and heard Greyback let out a howl of triumph, before he had leaped out of the window and into the garden. Remus's father had leapt onto the desk in an effort to go after him, but Hope drew his attention back to Remus, and together, the two of them got him to St. Mungo's.
When they arrived, Remus was on the brink of death, but the Head Healer on duty could barely find anyone who wanted to deal with a child who had just been bitten by a werewolf on the night of the full moon. Coincidentally, the Head Healer had dated Lyall Lupin during their time at Hogwarts, and she was loyal enough to their former relationship to cajole and bully her staff into forming a small team, most of whom only agreed to help Remus because she had threatened to fire them otherwise.
After instructing his father to place Remus on a free bed, a night-nurse pulled his parents out of the room, murmuring something about a restorative cup of tea. This meant Remus was left alone with a Junior Healer. What followed was Remus's first experience with the change that took place in people the moment they discovered what he was.
Because when, collecting what little strength he had left in his body, he had attempted to tell the Junior Healer that he was getting very tired, and that his leg really hurt, the Junior Healer had looked up, leaned over, and smacked him sharply in the face with the back of his hand. Shocked, Remus had immediately fallen quiet.
'Stop your pathetic snivelling,' the Junior Healer had said calmly, looking back down at Remus's leg, and tearing away the fabric of his pyjama bottoms with a slash of his wand. Remus let out a yelp of pain as the fabric was forcibly ripped away from the wound, and then bit down, hard, on his lip, at the look the Healer threw him.
'It's your own fault for being bitten by a werewolf,' the Junior Healer continued. 'Probably thought you were being very brave, sneaking out on the night of a full moon.'
This was so blatantly untrue, Remus had opened his mouth to protest, but at that very moment, the man had poked sharply at the bite wound with his wand, and it made something feral tug at Remus's mind, his eyes flashing between silver, gold, and blue. 'Well, that's got you, then,' the Healer said, quietly. 'Looks like it's already in your bloodstream. I can stop the wound from from bleeding now, but it'll have to heal on its own, and you'll have to stay until it does.'
He bandaged the wound, and roughly yanked the bed backwards, so Remus lay flat on his back. 'I hope you're happy,' the Healer told him calmly. 'From now on, you'll forever be a burden to everyone around you. If you're even alive in ten years. No skin off my nose, werewolves don't even deserve to live, as far as I'm concerned.'
And with those poisonous remarks, he had left the room. And Remus had been too tired, too ashamed, too scared, and too hurt to tell anyone. Another Junior Healer and the night-nurse came in a few minutes after. They hovered at his bed, poking and prodding him with their wands, and administering potions, until they were satisfied. Although he didn't quite understand it, Remus didn't miss the filthy look the nurse threw over her shoulder as she left, nor the cold words of the Junior Healer as he explained, in simple terms, what exactly had happened in Remus's bedroom, and what that would mean, for him, for the rest of his life.
After he had left, his parents were let back into the room. But if Remus had expected to be comforted, he had been sorely mistaken. After he told them about Greyback, and what the Junior Healer had said about him being a werewolf now, his father had remained silent. It had marked the beginning of the slow and steady decline of their relationship, tainted by his father's guilt and anger in every way, shape and form. His mother had been silent, at first, but then she had been in floods of tears, clutching his hand, and her sadness at the normality his life had lost had shaped the way she had treated him ever since.
But what had stung the very most of all, for Remus, was his grandfather John's accusatory tone and subsequent dismissal of him when Hope Lupin had told him, carefully, that Remus had contracted an incurable, magical disease. He had been Remus's only hope during those dark and dreadful days of recovery in St. Mungo's, but as they drove out of Chepstow in his mother's car, with Remus in the backseat refusing to cry, he had realised that every person he had ever cared for, had failed him. From now on, he could only ever rely on himself.
And when Remus had told Black about being a hat-stall, he had purposely neglected to tell the full story. He had argued so passionately against the Sorting Hat placing him in Gryffindor, because someone brave would have fought back better and harder against a werewolf. No, he, Remus Lupin, would be better suited to Ravenclaw, where he could learn and study magic to his heart's content.
Then, knowing that the Sorting Hat could read his mind, Remus had very carefully kept it from straying to the one thing that had occupied his thoughts ever since he found out he had earned a place at Hogwarts. Because, with all the knowledge Hogwarts would be awarding him, Remus could go look for Fenrir Greyback, and punish him the way he had punished Remus for Lyall Lupin's temper: slowly, deliberately, painfully, until death claimed him.
It was a thought Remus hadn't ever admitted to anyone, and one he pressed away into the far corners of his mind when it did, inevitably, surface when a full moon loomed close. He was not a savage, brutish animal. He was an honourable man. And he would not be the one to punish Greyback. Because although Remus's faith in God, unlike his mother's, often wavered into obscurity, he did fervently believe in what Father Baines had told him, two weeks after he was bitten: it is the soul that sins which shall die.
Pulling his mind back from the past, Remus found that he was still looking into Black's eyes, which swirled quizzically, magnetically, dangerously.
The friendship Black had given him, that James had given him, the first – and likely only – of its kind, had been new. And thus, he had forged ahead with it, as if believing himself to be an alternative version of himself, one that was not riddled with a disease that caused death and destruction and often prevented him from thinking clearly, rationally, humanly about things. But, inevitably, the time had come for it to end, for Remus to take himself out of the equation, and to rely, only, on himself again.
The only thing he had trouble coming to grips with was the fact that he had stupidly, foolishly, risked the only thing he had always hoped would set him apart from the others of his kind: his education.
At that moment, the silence between them was broken by a loud smash of something heavy, and, accompanying it, James Potter's more-than-urgent-voice.
'For fuck's sake, Sirius, hello?!'
Black nearly jumped out of his skin. Apparently, it had not only been Remus who had confined himself to his own thoughts whilst looking into Black's eyes. Swearing, Black reached into his robes, pulling out something that most closely resembled one of those pocket mirrors Remus's mother kept in her bag. Black pointed his wand at it and, impressed despite himself, Remus watched as it grew into a beautiful, ornate silver mirror which, instead of Black's reflection, showed James Potter's anxious face.
The look of anxiety was almost instantly replaced by one of relief. 'There you are,' James said, and then he grinned, although it looked a little forced. 'Of course it would take me bloody smashing your broomstick to bits for you to respond.'
Black blanched, looking stung, and opened his mouth to reply, but James waved a dismissive hand before he could. 'Only joking, keep your hair on. And you can tell me all the sordid details about who you've been ignoring me for later. Look,' he said, and from where he was sitting, Remus could clearly see him hold up the Remembrall that Black had been playing with in the Gryffindor dormitory earlier. The glass ball, which had been clear then, was filled with a cloud of lavender smoke.
Remus blinked. The last he had read, the smoke of a Remembrall could only turn a bright red to indicate that its owner had forgotten something. This particular Remembrall must have been tweaked, its differently coloured smoke hinting at a meaning only some were privy to. Had it been something James and Black had done by themselves? Oddly, Remus remembered, vividly, James playing with it the day of the Potter's New Year's Party.
'Shit,' Black said next to him, vehemently, and Remus glanced at him from underneath his eyelashes. Black had gotten, in the last minute or so, visibly paler. 'I'll be right there. We'll have to –'
'– get to Mum, yeah, I know,' James finished for him. 'Pete said he was going to see Gloria, so it'll just be us. Unless – should we bring Remus?'
For the first time, Remus realised that while he could see part of James's face in the mirror, James's view of him was obscured. It made him feel slightly uncomfortable, as he clearly realised that this, perhaps, had not been a conversation meant for his ears.
Black paused for a second, and then lied, with effortless ease, 'No, that's fine. He's not here. Probably fucked off the library, or something. Doesn't matter, we can tell him later. I'll meet you at the dorm, we'll use the Floo from there.'
The lie about his location didn't sting Remus, although he suspected Black thought it might. In fact, he was more surprised at the fact that James didn't even appear to notice that he was on the receiving end of Black's – admittedly excellent – acting ability. Remus had always presumed that James knew Sirius Black better than anyone, but this exchange made him doubt that. It made Remus wonder if Black had ever realised that, no matter how smooth the delivery of the lie, his eyes always gave him away, if you knew how to read them. Remus felt, rather than saw, Black watching him, and he looked down to where his fingers were lazily twirling patterns in the mud.
'Right. See you in ten,' James said, disappearing from view. Within seconds, the mirror was blank again, offering a perfect reflection of Black's face. Black shrank the mirror back to its original size with a wave of his wand, and pocketed it again. He hesitated for a moment, avoiding Remus's gaze, and then he got to his feet.
He exhaled, deliberately, a sigh, pulling Remus's attention towards him. 'Look,' he said, running a hand through his too-long hair, and making it stick up in the back. 'We'll talk later, yeah?'
With a jolt of clarity, Remus realised, then, that Black's theory about his illness was something he hadn't shared with the other Marauders. He had been mulling it over privately, as if Remus was a particularly tricky puzzle he was trying to figure out. Remus could very well imagine Black deciding that, once the puzzle had been solved, he would he share it with James. And, depending on whether or not he liked him that day, with Pettigrew.
'Right,' Remus responded. He thought about saying something else, about wishing Black the best, but decided against it, given the circumstances that had preceded James's interruption.
Without another word or backward glance, Black was gone. Remus looked down and saw, to his relief, that it had, indeed, been only mud he had been clenching between his fingers during their conversation. With a wordless spell, his hands were clean again and he simply sat for a minute longer, silently clenching and unclenching his hands. Then, making up his mind, he reached into a hidden pocket he had sown into his robes, and pulled out the parchment Black had given him so many weeks ago.
The parchment represented a different world. A world wherein he was not alone, but had friends who cared for him, worried for him, exchanged jokes and hidden glances with him. Friends who brought him back sweets from the kitchen when they'd been studying for hours, who showed up at his house for Christmas with a thoughtful gift he didn't know he needed, who invited him for sleepovers and to Quidditch matches and didn't like him any less for the flaws that he, inevitably, had shown.
With a small sigh, Remus touched his wand to the corner of the parchment and, with a whispered spell, set it ablaze. It burned yellow and purple, the complex magic fighting against the overwhelming heat, and Remus dropped it, watching it fall slowly towards the ground, where it curled into a crumpled ball, and then turned to ashes, which lay smouldering quietly. He looked at the pile of ashes for a little while longer and then, for good measure, cast a charm. From the tip of his wand, a controlled, silent breeze blew the black, sooty ashes in the direction of the trees, until even Remus, with his keen werewolf senses, could no longer detect them.
He stood up, straightening his robes. The Head Boy badge pinned to his chest felt, for the first time, a little heavy, and he watched, distracted, as it caught a beam of sunlight that filtered through the clearing, and winked flashing signals to the forest all around him. Remus glanced down at his watch, pondering the time, and doing some swift mental calculations. It was only half past four, so he had some time left to finish his homework for Ancient Runes, before he would be heading into two straight hours of tutoring. Decision made, he turned on his heel and left the clearing behind, forever.
Remus was never the wiser to the pair of eyes that had been watching him, furtively, from between the trees.
The eyes followed Remus's robes until they disappeared from view, waited for a moment longer, and then, only then, did Peter Pettigrew step into the clearing, satisfied with himself. It had not been hard to lose James, to double back, and find, inevitably, Sirius and Remus where he expected them to be. Sirius, after all these years, was nothing if not terribly predictable. He had been moody and out of sorts, and Peter knew, instinctively, that it had something to do with their new, collective friend. Not for the first time, Peter wondered if that was even the right word.
At first, during their tutoring sessions, he had been quite keen on getting to know Remus Lupin. Since he belonged to a different house and was altogether rather quiet, there was no reason that befriending him would upset the careful balance of Peter's world. But then, suddenly, that had changed. Somehow, Sirius had gotten to know Remus, and then James, and steadily, swiftly, Remus had become part of the Marauders. Peter knew that that hadn't been a deliberate move on Remus's part; he knew him well enough to realise that the friendship of James and Sirius, bequeathed so easily, had been as much of a surprise to Remus as it had been to Peter.
And although it had left a sour taste in Peter's mouth at the time, he had been prepared to accept it. While he could freely admit to himself that it bruised his pride that it had taken him the better part of four years to get James and Sirius to even talk to him, he relished being a Marauder too much to give it up for something as stupid as his wounded pride.
Being a part of the Marauders came with a kind of reverence from fellow students that Peter had to do nothing to earn; it was awarded to him for simply being friends with James and Sirius, and it opened many doors. And, given time, Peter had soon begun to see that that allure and prestige would only grow bigger if the group were to include Remus Lupin. He was, after all, the first Ravenclaw Head Boy in twenty years, and he came from a good family. Peter knew that Remus's father held a semi-powerful position within the Ministry, and that his grandmother had very deep pockets, and connections all over the wizarding world. Given this, Peter could even overlook the fact that Remus was a half-blood, with a Muggle mother; his girlfriend Gloria was a half-blood, too, and she was as pretty and nubile as anything.
But then, suddenly, seemingly overnight, Remus had mysteriously disappeared from Hogwarts, and it had nearly destroyed everything. Tasked with finding out where Remus was, Peter was frustrated at every turn; every known location was empty, even the Hospital Wing, and everyone he spoke to gave a different answer. After a failed meeting with Professor McGonagall, who couldn't tell him anything either, Peter had returned to the dormitory empty-handed, and had to duck to avoid the nasty charms and spells Sirius threw at him in a temper. He was too slow to miss the sharp Severing Charm, and his right shoulder nearly got ripped apart. James, who had returned from Quidditch practice at that precise moment, had insisted on accompanying Peter to the Hospital Wing, and had told Sirius to fuck off on his behalf.
Despite James's kindness, Peter's hackles had been raised. Something about Remus's disappearance, about Remus himself, was off. It didn't take very much to figure that out. Everyone knew Remus Lupin, thought him polite, spoke of his talents in the classroom, and his knack for organising things, but other than the three of them, he didn't have anyfriends. Not even the boys in his dormitory appeared to like him very much, and after spending the better part of seven years with someone, they, as much as anyone, should know him. If they didn't think him worth the friendship, then why should they, as Gryffindors, waste their time?
And now, at least, he had found what he had been looking for. From where he had been sitting, hidden behind a berry bush, Peter had been able to hear the conversation between Sirius and Remus, and then, later, between Sirius and James. He decided privately that he had done well to follow his instincts, because what sort of person would hide an illness, disappearing for days on end, with no one, not even the teachers, knowing where he was?
It was someone who was very good at fooling people, at manipulating them into thinking that he was kind, reliable, smart, and many more things, while being none of them. It was someone like his mother, who used her tiny stature and sweet disposition to wheedle information out of people; information she would then use to curry favours, to get her bidding done, to blackmail and lie and cheat, laughing privately to herself once she had gotten exactly what she wanted.
After spending a lifetime with his mother, there were some skills that Peter had managed to inherit from her. He had crafted those skills carefully, deliberately, and preferably, when no one was looking. Like his mother, one of the things Peter excelled at was collecting secrets, and knowing first, before anyone else, a piece of news. It was a very useful skill to have, and if he played his cards correctly, and kept this particular snippet of news to himself, to be shared only when the time was right and when he could rephrase it to suit his needs without Sirius listening in, James would, inevitably, come to realise that their group was not in need of anyone else. That, in fact, it was perfect with just the three of them. And despite his dark temper and his superior prowess with a wand, Sirius did everything James told him to do, even if it annoyed him. And then, all would be well once more.
Tucking his hands in his pockets, Peter lingered for a few minutes longer, and then followed, at a safe distance, Remus Lupin out of the clearing, whistling tunelessly all the while. Gloria would be waiting for him, she had said, and he was so looking forward to seeing her again.
While Remus had been content to be excluded from whatever conversation Black and James had had in the Forbidden Forest, its subject was nonetheless inadvertently revealed to him, and to the rest of the school, two days later. Remus had a long-standing arrangement with Allard, who let Remus read his copy of the Daily Prophet, so long as Remus ensured that both of the female Ravenclaw prefects were scheduled patrols that always conflicted with Allard's Quidditch practice. The arrangement suited Remus, who had grown weary of the arguments, just fine.
As he finished reading the rest of the lead article, James's name caught his eye in, strangely, the travel section on page three.
A Cross-Country Cruise Gone Pottery Wrong
From our travel correspondent, Mariana Fibbets
What was meant to be an all-paid for, all-inclusive cruise across Europe aboard the Regent Knighted Explorer, quickly turned into a nightmare after one of its passengers was found to be carrying more than just luggage aboard. The anonymous cruise-goer, identified only by the initials A.M., had been feeling a little unwell when the cruise boarded in Dover earlier this week. The passenger had dismissed concerns of the onboard Healer at his initial health inspection, insisting that he was feeling fine. But in fact, he was not at all fine, and within days, he was confined to the hospital cabin with a high fever.
The ship's Healer, the pensioned Mr Barthe Sandy, perhaps suffering from a touch of fever himself, released the man within a day, leaving him to attend the opening ball. Inevitably, as the ship docked in Helsinki two days later, there were casualties, as most of the elderly passengers started showing the same symptoms.
One such a casualty is the famed potioneer Fleamont Potter, inventor of such delights as Sleekeazy's Hair Potion, who was on the cruise celebrating his sapphire wedding anniversary with his wife. Potter caught whatever the man had, and had to be rushed, via Emergency Portkey, to St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries in London. When pressed for an answer, Healer Sandy could only stammer excuses.
The Potters have only one son, called James, who currently attends Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. The handsome younger Potter will undoubtedly be following up with K.A. Cruises, owners of the boat in question, to sue for damages. This reporter and the Daily Prophet most certainly will.
Remus knew all too well who Mariana Fibbets was. She had been only a year above him, in Slytherin. She had been a nosy, whiny, needling girl, who forever felt wronged by everyone. When Allard had taken her out on a date to Madam Puddifoot's, only to declare her boring, leaving halfway through to find himself another girl, Mariana had been so offended that she had unleashed her wrath on all of Remus's dorm mates one by one.
Remus had been the only one suspicious enough to steer clear of the things that started showing up at his bedside table, like the vaguely worded letter offering a prize, the expensive box of sweets, and the small, exotic trinkets and gifts. He had banished them all, and had uncharacteristically accepted Madam Pomfrey's offer to spend additional time at the Hospital Wing following the full moon, which coincidentally fell that same week. By the time he returned to class, Mariana had found a new victim in the Slytherin Quidditch captain, who had, if rumour were to believed, looked at her funny. Remus's timely absence had saved him from suffering the same embarrassing and very public injuries as his dorm mates, and to his amusement, it was something Allard openly resented him for.
Given the urgency with which James Potter had summoned Sirius Black, Fleamont Potter's illness sounded a little more threatening than the article implied. Remus read it again, his mind racing. There were only a handful of magical illnesses that were contagious enough to linger in the body for days on end, able to infect others even after symptoms had seemingly disappeared. For someone like Fleamont Potter, who was born around the turn of the century, the news didn't bode well.
Remus chanced at glance at the Gryffindor table, and saw only Pettigrew sitting there. He was munching contentedly on a piece of toast; the other two Marauders were nowhere to be seen. At that moment, Peter looked up from his toast and saw Remus looking. He gave Remus a big, happy grin, which seemed a little off; but then Remus was sitting further away at the Ravenclaw table than usual, so he couldn't quite be so sure.
Remus nodded back, and turned his attention, a little warily, back to the newspaper.
Author's Note: Hello there, and thank you if you're here reading this. I do apologise for the long wait in-between chapters. Newborns take a lot of looking after, as do toddlers, and since I have one of each at this point, a lot of my spare time is lovingly spoken for.
If you have read this story before, I would like to ask you to go back and give it another read, because I've changed little details here and there to better fit with where this story will go in the future.
I wish you only love and light in this unsteady season.