Exam day was quickly approaching, and Remus was stressed beyond belief.
"What if I fail?" he asked Peter anxiously over two cups of tea and a pile of books. They'd been doing last-minute review all day. "What if they kick me out?"
"You won't fail," said Peter. "You know everything top to bottom."
"What if I fail?" he asked James during breakfast the next day. "What if I sit down for the exam and then forget everything?"
"You won't fail," said James. "You couldn't fail if your life depended on it."
"What if I fail?" he asked Sirius in between classes. "My parents will be so disappointed."
"You won't fail," said Sirius, "and even if you did, your parents would still love you anyway. Not me. If I failed, then my mother would kick me out before I could even blink."
"What if I fail?" he asked Professor Questus in a letter.
"What if I fail?" he asked the owl while he attached the letter to its leg. The owl only hooted testily and flew off.
"What if I fail?" he whispered to the empty sky, watching the clouds float past and the sun go down.
"What if I fail?" he asked the night sky while he lied in bed that night, confiding his worries to the stars and the moon, twisting his fingers beneath the covers anxiously and going over his Transfiguration notes in his head—
"YOU WON'T FAIL," came James' voice from the opposite side of the room. "Remus, you were literally top of the form last year! You're not going to fail!"
"Last year I looked over each subject day and night, James! Last year I spent hours in the Hospital Wing, all alone, and this year I had you three to keep me company! I haven't done nearly as much schoolwork! I've been so much less bored and so much more distracted!"
"You'll be fine, Remus! Go to sleep."
Remus went to sleep, but he did not stop worrying, even in his dreams.
When James and Sirius were at their most energetic, however, it was impossible to worry. The two of them were stress-free balls of lightning and thunder, running through the corridors and causing more trouble than Remus even dared imagine. He couldn't help but join in their antics when they placed a hex on Pensley's door that gave anyone who knocked bright red and gold hair. They crouched behind the corner and laughed as Severus Snape grasped at his hair, utterly bemused, and laughed even harder when Dumbledore did the same (though he was very calm about the whole thing and went so far as to flaunt his makeover in the other teachers' faces). Pensley didn't find it funny, but then again, she had no sense of humor.
Remus went back to the dormitory to read a bit more of the DAD textbook, but the other Marauders grabbed his arms and started yanking him out of the castle. Remus protested and tried to tug himself away, but alas, James and Sirius were much stronger than he was. "You are not allowed to do any more schoolwork, you hear me?" said James, waggling his finger.
"This is what I did to James yesterday when he wanted to practice Quidditch," explained Sirius. "Quidditch Cup is this Saturday and he really wants to win. I banned him from touching a broomstick until Saturday."
"And it's helping!" said James. "Sometimes, when you're stressed about something, you just need to stop thinking about it for a while and get back to it with a fresh mindset. So today, we're going to think about something other than Quidditch and schoolwork!"
Remus wasn't sure he liked the sound of that. "Where are you taking me?" he asked.
"Dumping you in the Black Lake," said James.
"Letting the Slytherins have you," said Sirius.
"Hagrid's," said Peter. After a brief discussion, the four of them agreed on Peter's idea (much to Remus' relief).
The rest of the day was spent with Hagrid: choking down disgusting tea, chatting about anything in particular, and not thinking about exams. Being social felt like a breath of fresh air after so much relentless studying, and Remus was thankful for it.
Honestly? Even if Remus failed his exams, he knew that it would be well worth it, as long as he still had his friends.
He did not fail his exams. He thought he did fairly well, in fact—even on the DAD exam, which was a three-parter. Part one was the written multiple choice (Pensley hadn't taught them any of it; Remus only knew the answers because he had done extra reading). Part two was an essay analyzing a quote in Julius Caesar—Remus thought that he might have failed that one. Part three was practical, and it was a breeze for Remus (who had studied duelling techniques from Questus' notebook in his free time).
Transfiguration, too, went considerably better than it had the year before. Remus' task was to transform a bird into a water goblet, which he did nearly perfectly (save a black sheen and two loose feathers). He was immensely thankful that it wasn't Avifors. He'd never mastered that spell.
"Very good, Lupin," said McGonagall. "I believe that's another two points to you toward our little competition."
"That deserves at least three."
"Don't push it."
"Two and a half?"
"Very well," sighed McGonagall, and Remus grinned.
After exams, Remus played a game of tag with the other Marauders. It was like a large weight had been lifted off his shoulders, and he felt lighter than a feather. Right now, there was no pain tugging on Remus' bones, reminding him of the upcoming full moon. Right now, the memories of the violent werewolf attack that Remus had endured years prior were nowhere to be found. Right now, Remus felt like a normal teenage boy—and even though he knew the universe to be cruel and unforgiving, the world felt like a beautiful and exciting place in which to reside.
Year Two was coming to a close, and Remus decided that it had been a very good year indeed.
"Remus Remus Remus Remus wake up wake up."
Remus squeezed his eyes shut even more tightly. "Sirius, I got out of the Hospital Wing a little more than a week ago. I am exhausted. Please let me sleep..."
"But it's the Day!"
"What day?"
"You know what day it is! Quidditch! The House Cup match! James is driving us all insane and we need you to... erm, diffuse the tension."
"I'm not driving anybody insane," grumped James.
Remus opened his eyes and sat up, albeit reluctantly. "He is, isn't he?"
"No, I'm not," said James.
Sirius, however, nodded vehemently. "He's nervous—"
"Am not!"
"—so he's snapping at everyone he sees. Hexed Snivellus and got detention. Now he's angry that he'll have to go to detention instead of whatever party might or might not happen after Gryffindor wins..."
"Which we will!" said James.
"I'm not going to the match," said Remus, turning back over in bed and stuffing his face under his pillows, and James promptly started shouting at Remus until Sirius managed to drag him out of the room.
"Some help you are," Sirius grouched.
Less than half an hour later, Remus was standing in the Quidditch stands, cheering as James made his second goal of the game. Sirius had already taken about fifty photographs. Remus was wearing his Gryffindor scarf, even though it was warm outside. Peter looked as if he might wet himself from the excitement.
Gryffindor won, as expected, and there was a massive party in the common room afterwards. They even did it in the afternoon instead of the evening so that James could attend. James was grinning ear-to-ear and ruffling his hair until it looked like a tangled cloud of sorts. Remus was cowering in the corner and trying to enjoy himself despite the noise, which was a lot easier to do than it had been earlier in the year.
Suddenly, James grabbed Remus' arm and pulled him outside. Sirius and Peter followed.
"What?" asked Remus. "I can walk, you know. You don't have to drag me everywhere." He gestured toward Sirius and Peter. "You let them walk, so why—?"
"Ready?" interrupted James, his eyes shining gleefully. He raised his wand. "Expecto Patronum!"
A silvery-blue light emerged from the tip of James' wand; as Remus watched in awe, the light materialized itself into a shape and galloped across the grounds with an unbelievable amount of grace. Remus watched the silvery blur circle the grounds once, and as soon as it circled back, it stopped directly next to James, wispy tendrils of magic floating from its back and antlers.
"It's a stag," said James. "A huge one, too!"
The Marauders stared at it in awe until it faded. "That's it, then," said Sirius. "We've all done it."
"And now," said James, "we can move on to step two."
Remus wasn't sure he liked the sound of that. "What's step two?"
"Don't worry about it. Hey, let's all cast our Patronuses at the same time."
They did so, and it was more glorious than Remus would have ever guessed. Furthermore, the Marauders, being teenage boys, couldn't resist chasing after the glowing light forms for upwards of an hour. Remus returned to the dormitory a little after curfew (to Filch's dismay), nearly wheezing and feeling as if his chest was going to explode, and James had missed his detention and been issued three more... but Remus had never, ever felt happier, and he felt as if he could cast the brightest, most brilliant Patronus in the world.
Remus was sixth in the form, which was pretty good. He'd passed everything and come out top in History of Magic and DAD. Peter had been second in DAD, which he was overjoyed about.
"It's only because I had such a wonderful teacher," Peter said, "and it wasn't Pensley. Trust me, Remus, you taught me everything I know." Remus went bright red at that statement and mumbled something gratefully.
James and Sirius had both failed DAD (only just), but they weren't concerned. "Just speaks to how bad of a teacher Pensley is," said James, shrugging. "We didn't do any work all year, so the fact that we got any questions right is proof of our intelligence."
"Sure," said Remus, unconvinced. "Come on, then, let's go to breakfast."
Over breakfast, the four of them discussed Patronuses and DAD and Pensley for a bit, and James even started planning an "Amazing Epic-ly Cool Brilliant Fantastic End-of-Year Spectacle," which involved flooding the Slytherin dormitories. Remus looked on and shook his head, but James paid no mind: his chattering was so energetic that Remus didn't even notice Dumbledore standing behind him—which was a massive rarity with senses as honed as Remus'.
"Remus?" said Dumbledore. Remus whirled around and nearly spit out his pumpkin juice. "I'm afraid I need to speak with you alone."
"We can come," said Sirius. "We know everything there is about Remus."
Remus shrugged. "Yeah, they can come," he said. "Sirius is right. I have absolutely no secrets." He grinned. "Can you believe it? No secrets. That's pretty amazing, for someone like me."
"Ah..." said Dumbledore. For the first time ever, he looked at a loss for words. "Remus... it's not good news."
The atmosphere changed so suddenly that Remus almost felt a physical jolt. The smile dropped off his face. "How bad?" he asked. "On a scale of one to ten?"
Dumbledore did not smile. "Catastrophic," he responded.
"Oh." Remus' mouth was suddenly very, very dry. Catastrophic wasn't even a number, and unquantifiable news was the worst sort. "I think I'd... I mean, may my friends come? I think I want them there... you know, if it's... catastrophic."
"Of course they may," said Dumbledore.
Remus stood up, even though he felt a little dizzy, and followed Dumbledore out of the Great Hall. He was vaguely aware of his friends walking beside him, but didn't really care at that point. "It's my parents, isn't it?" he said anxiously. "My parents? Did they die or something? Is my mum ill for real this time?"
Dumbledore stopped walking, and Peter nearly crashed into him. "It's not your parents," said Dumbledore, and Remus deflated slightly with relief. "But if it were your parents, Remus, then would you still want your friends around?"
"Yes," said Remus. "Absolutely."
"Very well, then. I have one more question. The full moon is this Friday, as you very well know. Four days. Would you like me to wait to tell you until after Friday, assuming you'd have to isolate yourself until then to avoid hearing it from somewhere else? I suspect I know the answer..."
"No!" said Remus. "I'll be stressing about it otherwise."
"That is what I thought, yes. And I suspect that it's... ahem... a bit too much for the day after the full moon."
At some point, Dumbledore had started walking again (and Remus had followed), but he wasn't sure when that had happened, exactly. Now they were standing in front of Dumbledore's office. "Candy floss," said Dumbledore, and the gargoyles scraped aside to permit them entrance.
The next thing Remus knew, he was sitting on a chair and sipping some tea that had far too much milk. In fact, it was barely tea at all. "Professor...?" he prompted.
Dumbledore heaved a sigh and steepled his fingers on his lap. "Remus," he said, but he didn't say anything else for a long while (though Remus, having no concept of time under such strenuous circumstances, wasn't sure what constituted as "a long while" anymore). "I'm afraid that there was a rather horrifying incident recently. I thought I would catch you over breakfast before the Prophet came and broke the news in a more jarring way. But..." Dumbledore sighed again. "It is, unfortunately, going to be jarring no matter whom you hear it from."
Remus was dying of anticipation, but he didn't dare say a word. He glanced at James, who was sitting on his hands and looking anywhere but Remus; Peter, who was gnawing on a thumbnail anxiously; Sirius, whose eyebrows were crinkled deeply; and then back at Dumbledore, who looked (for the first time) lost for words.
Dumbledore frowned and wrapped his long fingers around his mug. "Have you noticed anything odd about the town near your house, Remus?"
"Er... I suppose. I've only been there a few times. Couple times when I was younger... once with James and Sirius and Peter... once with Professor Questus. It's small and out-of-the-way. Everyone's really friendly. Professor Questus did mention that it seemed strange to him—that it was like it was... trapped in time or something."
"An astute observation," said Dumbledore. "I regret to inform you that the town wasn't so innocent as it seemed. That town is small, very self-sufficient, and is not on the maps, which makes it a perfect place for a werewolf to live, hm? It also makes it the perfect place for a sort of wizarding witness protection program."
"What? What's that?"
"Most of the people in that town are exactly what they seem: kind, hardworking Muggles who crave community as well as isolation. Some are Muggles who were relocated by the Ministry after they insulted a Death Eater... or Fenrir Greyback." Remus cringed, but Dumbledore was (to his knowledge) the only one who noticed, and he did not say anything. "Some residents are wizards who are being protected by the Ministry. It is, after all, the perfect place to hide."
"Oh... okay. So what's the... erm... catastrophic news?"
"Well, the Death Eaters discovered the town and recognized a few of its residents."
Remus felt ill. "And..."
"I'm afraid there was a... well, Remus, there was a massacre."
Remus looked down at his mug of tea. The tea was quivering inside the cup, but Remus wasn't aware that his hands were shaking. "How many...?" he asked, his voice croakier than he would have liked.
"Fifty-eight, to my knowledge," said Dumbledore.
Remus wasn't sure what to feel. "Fifty-eight dead?" he repeated, at first unable to process the words. He was scarcely able to believe it... it had been such a small town to begin with. Remus didn't even have the capacity to begin to mourn a hundred people. "How did the Death Eaters...? I mean, that's quite a lot of people to kill..."
"Fiendfyre. Do you know what that is?"
Remus, who had read about it in his DAD textbook, swallowed thickly. "Yeah. Yeah, I do."
"The fire is under control now, of course, and your parents are perfectly safe. They were sleeping at the time—they didn't even notice that it had happened until they woke up. The town has been destroyed, for the most part, but the Fiendfyre never reached your house."
"Right." Remus nodded slowly and took a sip of his quivering tea. "What does Professor Questus think of all this, then? He's been talking about something big for ages."
Dumbledore removed his spectacles from his face and cleaned them meticulously before putting them back on. "Yes, Remus, that is the other thing that I wanted to speak with you about. I believe that he was in town when it..."
"Oh." Remus was numb. "He's dead, then?"
"Yes. I'm sorry."
"Ah, okay." Remus put his tea down, a little afraid that he would drop it. This was huge and terrible, a horribly, awfully, unthinkable thing—there were no adjectives to describe how awful the whole situation was, and Remus found he didn't quite know how to deal with any aspect of the situation.
Bad things had happened to Remus before, of course—horrible, momentous events that he didn't think he'd ever recover from—but they'd all been accompanied by physical pain. The emotional pain had always been shared with and reflected by Remus' body, and physical pain made it much easier to process emotions. His outward feeling had matched his inward ones; he'd felt the pain, and once it had faded, he'd moved on. But this? This was completely different. Remus wasn't even feeling it properly, and he almost wished for a touch of physical pain to even out the playing field. Physical pain was easier to deal with. This was just confusing and hard to process, and there was so much at once that Remus didn't really feel anything at all—just a numb, hollow feeling somewhere near his ribcage, like he'd forgotten something very important.
"Is there... a list, then?" he asked. "Of the people who survived? Do... you have something like that?"
"I do," said Dumbledore. "I'll show it to you if you're certain that it won't upset you."
"As opposed to my not being upset right now?" said Remus, trying for a smile. It made his lips feel funny. "Please, Professor."
"Very well, then," said Dumbledore, handing Remus a list that was far too small, and Remus again realized how much his hands were shaking when he took the list in his hands and noticed the quivering of the thin parchment. He held it for a while, staring at the swimming ink on the parchment without actually reading.
"What about the bookkeeper?" asked Sirius. Remus' friends had been very quiet throughout the whole thing; he'd almost forgotten that they were in the room. "The one at the shop? With the spectacles?"
Remus scanned the list for a Mitchell, but he did not see one. Remus shook his head mutely, and then there was silence.
After a moment, Remus pushed the list away. "Fifty-eight people are dead," he said.
Dumbledore nodded. "Fifty-eight confirmed. There will probably be more confirmed later on."
"When did it happen?"
"Yesterday. Early morning."
"Yesterday?"
"Yes."
"Why didn't you tell me then?"
"I did not know the details, and I thought it better to wait until I could give you answers. Do you have any further questions? I would be happy to answer them."
"Why me?" Remus whispered. "Why is it always me? Why must everything happen to me?"
Dumbledore smiled sorrowfully. "You know, someone else asked me that question about a year ago, and I am going to tell you what I told him. You, Remus Lupin, will keep going—as you would with anything else. You will take it one day at a time. And then... someday... perhaps it will make sense. Perhaps something good will come of it all... or perhaps not. Either way, you keep waiting until the next good thing comes along, yes?"
"Yeah." Remus nodded. "Yeah, okay. Who else did you...?"
"John Questus, directly after his girlfriend died."
Remus laughed, even though nothing was funny. He wasn't sure what else to do to get rid of the weird feelings bubbling up inside his chest. "Sorry, it's not funny... it's just... it's very strange imagining Professor Questus with a girlfriend. Was he very upset? He told me that it wasn't a big deal at all. He said that they only dated for less than a month."
"Of course he was upset, Remus; it's only natural to be upset when someone close to you dies. I suspect he simply didn't want to discuss the matter, which is perfectly okay."
"Yeah," said Remus again. "I'm... I mean... there's nothing else, is there? That's all? No one else... Garrison and Nolan and... everyone else is okay? Well, of course not everybody's okay... fifty-eight people died... but you know what I mean."
"That is all. The Fiendfyre has been put out and your parents are safe. Garrison is as sprightly as ever, and Nolan's pond remains untouched. Would you like to go home? Exams are over, after all, and I thought you might want to have the rest of the year off to process things."
"Process things," repeated Remus. "My parents are doing all right?"
"Yes. They are sad, but they will recover."
"Do they want me home?"
"They want whatever will help you the most."
Remus twisted around to face his friends; instantly, he realized that he did not want to go home just yet—he genuinely felt that his friends would be more of a comfort right now than his family. The thought surprised him. "I... may I leave tomorrow? Stay here today?"
"Of course. Needless to say, you and your friends are excused from classes for as long as you may need. I understand that the news is difficult for the rest of you as well. James, Peter, Sirius: if any of you need to go home as well..." Sirius shook his head (followed by James and Peter), and Dumbledore smiled. "I rather suspected not, Sirius. Remus. What time would you like to go home tomorrow?"
"Er..." Remus wasn't sure. Noon seemed too soon, but half twelve seemed far too late. "Twelve-seventeen," he decided, and then realized that "twelve-seventeen" was not a very round number. "I mean... quarter past twelve..."
"Will that be twelve-seventeen in the morning or twelve-seventeen in the afternoon?" asked Dumbledore, smiling a bit.
"Afternoon, sir. I... I'm sorry..."
"Remus, you have nothing to be sorry for. As much as I dislike being the bearer of bad news, I know that it is much harder to be the recipient."
"Did they catch the Death Eaters?"
Dumbledore paused before answering. "They did not."
"Oh."
There was silence.
"I think... I think I'd like to go back to my dormitory now, if that's okay."
"Absolutely. James, Sirius, Peter: you are going with him, yes?"
James made a sort of scoffing noise. "If we leave him alone in this state then he'll turn into a toad or something out of stress," he said. It was supposed to be a joke, Remus figured, but it wasn't very funny. It was the awkward type of half-baked joke: the kind that was stupid and out-of-place, but begged itself to be made in such a serious situation. Remus hated it.
Dumbledore nodded. "Duly noted. And if there is anything I can do for any of you, then you need only let me know."
"Yes, sir." Remus tried to stand up, but his legs weren't working properly. He sat back down, and then he tried again: fortunately, his second attempt was much more successful. "I... thank you..."
"Don't thank me," said Dumbledore sadly. "Please stop by again should you ever need to talk—and I assure you that I shall respond to any owls from anyone who goes by the name of 'Marauder' all summer long. And, Remus..." Dumbledore handed Remus a piece of parchment. "This came by owl post for you this morning. I believe it's from..."
"Professor Questus," breathed Remus, recognizing the scent.
"Yes. I believe he wrote it very early Sunday morning, before the fire. You may read it whenever you feel you are ready. Sleep well—that goes for all four of you."
Remus tried for a smile as his friends led him out of the room and back to the dormitory, but he wasn't sure why.
The world was a dark and dreary place, and it seemed to remind Remus of the fact whenever he forgot it.
AN: RIP Robbie Coltrane :(
oh, and Questus too, i guess
