No one bothered doing the standard Marauder Knock on the dormitory door when the Marauders entered; in fact, no one even bothered opening a curtain or turning on a light. Peter shepherded Remus to the center of the room, and Remus sat down in the middle of the floor. He didn't really care enough to sit on a bed.
"I feel fine," he said thoughtfully into the dark room. "I expected to be crying or something, at least. I mean, fifty-eight people—fifty-nine people, if Professor Questus is included in that statistic—died. But I feel fine."
"You're not fine, mate," said James, patting him on the shoulder. "You're all wobbly and shaky."
"Maybe shock?" said Peter, and Remus suddenly remembered that Peter had experience dealing with death.
Remus hugged his knees. "It'll wear off, right? I feel weird."
Peter shrugged. "I dunno. Eventually, I guess." He sat down next to Remus and wrapped his arms around Remus' chest. Remus wasn't sure how to feel about that. James and Sirius quietly sat next to them, and Remus tried not to think about anything in particular.
"Do you—?" started James, but Remus cut him off with a glare.
Silence.
"I thought maybe—" said James, but Peter hit him sharply.
Silence.
"What do you—?"
Remus sighed. "Just be quiet for a moment, James. I'm thinking."
They lapsed into silence once again, and Remus stared at the wall until his vision started to swim and his hands stopped shaking. It was another ten minutes before he said anything.
"I need..." he finally said, and then he trailed off, because he didn't really know what he needed. Fortunately, his friends were all too eager to fill in the blanks.
"To be alone?" said Peter.
"A handkerchief?" said James.
"Food?" said Sirius.
Remus nodded. "That last one, yeah. Food. I'm hungry, I think."
James crinkled his eyebrows. "But we just ate breakfast."
"I think... I dunno. Maybe." Remus felt strangely empty; he thought for sure that food might help. "Breakfast is over, though, so I... I guess I can wait."
"What do you mean?" asked Sirius incredulously. "We're Marauders. Rules don't concern us. James, go fetch some food from the Kitchens."
"Sure thing," said James with a salute, and he donned the Invisibility Cloak and slipped out of the room.
Remus waited. He didn't know what else to do.
"How do you feel?" asked Peter.
"Confused, mostly." Remus shook his head. "I can't... fifty-eight people. That's... I can't even... wow, Peter, I can't even comprehend it. And Professor Questus..." Remus looked at the letter that Dumbledore had given him, still clutched tightly in his hand. He wouldn't read it now. He couldn't fully appreciate it in this state. He reached out and placed it on his bed—it was already getting a little bit damp and crumpled from the sweat on Remus' hands, and Remus didn't want to harm it further. "It doesn't feel real," he said. "Maybe it's not? Maybe it's a dream or something."
"Pinch yourself," suggested Peter. "That's what I always do when I think I'm dreaming."
Remus looked at his hands, rolled up his sleeve ever so slightly, and then pinched his arm as hard as he could, accidentally puncturing the skin with a nail. "Ow," he said. "Oops. Didn't mean to do that."
Sirius wordlessly handed him the bottle of silver and Dittany, but Remus didn't use it. "I'm so sorry, mate," said Sirius, wringing his hands uncomfortably. "We didn't even get to tell him about the Patronuses."
Remus thought of the half-finished letter that he'd been drafting to Professor Questus about the subject, now lonely and abandoned in his trunk. Remus had been planning on finishing it outside today when Sirius and James and Peter were running around on the grounds or flying broomsticks like they did nearly every afternoon. He supposed that none of that was happening today... he wondered if Professor Questus had even had time to read and respond to his worries about failing his exams. Perhaps the letter had been lost or delivered too slowly. He wondered what the owl had done with the letter, if it had shown up and nobody was there...
"Right," said Remus, "and... fifty-eight people. There were children in that town." Remus suddenly felt something—something—finally. But it wasn't sadness; it was anger. It was horrible, awful, indescribable anger. He tried to breathe. In through his nose...
"All right?" said Peter worriedly.
"No!" Remus abandoned the breathing. "No, I'm not all right! The... the Death Eaters just... killed a whole town of people, just because they... didn't like some of the people in it!" Remus felt an odd kinship to the innocents in the town. Someone with whom they were associated had insulted Death Eaters, and now they had to pay the price for it. Remus knew all about that. It had happened to him, once upon a time. "How could they?" he said. "How could they do that?"
"Because they're awful, evil people," said Sirius viciously.
James, who had entered the room at some point with a plate of apple pie, instantly agreed. "They have no morals," he said.
Remus nodded. "Yeah... yeah. I'm..." He wasn't sure what he wanted to say, but he knew that he had to say something. A sentence was trying to form in his mind, but he couldn't quite find the words, so he sat there stammering while his friends waited patiently... and then it hit him. "I'm fighting," he said with finality. "As soon as I leave Hogwarts. I don't know how, because it's not as if they'll let me join the Aurors. But I am. I swear it."
"Bit too early to be making those kinds of promises," said Peter nervously.
Sirius grinned. "No, it's not. I am, too."
"We all will," said James. "If the war is still going on when we leave Hogwarts, then we'll all fight. We'll do it ourselves—we don't need the Ministry. It'll just be us four Marauders, going on dangerous and exciting missions to take down Death Eaters and save the wizarding world."
Remus nodded. "Right. Just us four."
"I'll handle the planning," James continued. "Sirius will lead the actual fighting. Peter can do the sneaking. Remus can track 'em down."
Remus would normally be dismayed at the prospect of being reduced to his werewolf senses—after all, he was just as good at duelling as Sirius, probably even better. But he didn't dwell on it. "Sure," he said, "and one day we'll find Voldemort and put this war to an end once and for all."
James cheered at that. "And then, when we're the saviors of the wizarding world, then no one will dare think you're anything less just because you're a werewolf!"
"No one would dare," repeated Remus. The thought made him feel something, but he didn't know what. "Werewolf rights for all. You know, once Professor Questus said that, if a werewolf was ever destined to do something great, then it would be me."
"That's oddly kind, for him," remarked Sirius.
"He was right," said James firmly. "You'll win an Order of Merlin and be married with a kid before you're thirty."
"Gross," said Remus, "but the Order of Merlin would be nice. I could be the first werewolf ever to win one."
"Really?" said James. "No other werewolves have won an Order of Merlin?"
"Not a one."
"And maybe you can do it without fighting," said Peter anxiously. "Maybe you'll invent a cure for lycanthropy or something!"
Remus shook his head. "There is no cure for lycanthropy. Besides, I want to help. I hate this war. I hate it."
"Hear, hear," said Sirius.
"And you know what I hate most?"
"That they killed Questus?" asked Peter.
"No. I mean, it's upsetting, but he had it coming. No, I hate that they kill children. Children!" He crossed his arms over his chest. "Everyone deserves a childhood," he said quietly. "They deserve to grow up before being pulled into all this. Professor Questus always said that the Dark Arts wait for no one, and I know—I know they don't. I know better than anyone. But I wish they did."
"I know," said Sirius, and then he didn't say anything else, because there was really nothing else to be said.
They sat there for a few minutes.
Remus coughed. "I... could we... I mean, we're missing class, but... I was thinking... we have Charms this afternoon, and Flitwick always does fun things at the end of the year. We could go."
"Are you sure that you're up to it?" asked Peter.
Remus nodded. He needed to take his mind off things, at least until they felt real, because he couldn't truly take any of it in at the moment. He wasn't dreaming, according to his slightly-bleeding hand, but it still felt like a dream—all dazed and wobbly, as if he would wake up at any moment; as if all this was just as fictional as it felt. "I want to go," he confirmed.
"I don't," said Sirius, shrugging. "I mean, you can go. That's fine. James and Peter can go with you. But I want to stay here."
With a jolt, Remus recognized two things. First, Sirius was terrified of all things gruesome and gory, so he was probably rather upset right now. Second, Remus had somehow failed to take into account that this whole incident affected other people besides him. Remus wasn't the only one who had known Professor Questus, and he wasn't the only one who had been to the town. His friends were upset, and they needed space and time just as much as Remus did.
"You can stay," he said, feeling horribly selfish. "I just need a distraction."
"I'm going to stay, too," said James.
"I'll go with you, Remus," said Peter, which was quite the surprise. When given the choice between Remus, James and Sirius, Peter did not usually choose to go with Remus. Remus and Peter were best mates, but they were the sort of best mates who recognized how lucky they were to be friends with people as wealthy, clever, and witty and James and Sirius, and they never blamed each other for taking full advantage of that.
Well, usually.
They entered Charms class two minutes late, but Flitwick didn't say anything. The class was rather fun, actually—Flitwick had set up a sort of obstacle course around the classroom, and Remus and Peter had a lot of fun trying to push each other directly into the spells' ring of influence to find out what kind of jinx it was. It still felt funny to smile, but Remus was making a valiant effort.
All too soon, it was over, and Remus could feel Flitwick's gaze on him. Sure enough, half a moment after class was dismissed, Flitwick went up to Remus and whispered. "Lupin? A word, if I may."
The last couple of students, save Peter and Remus, left the classroom, and then Remus said, "Professor Dumbledore told me what happened. I know already, and I'm fine."
"You're fine?"
"I think so."
"You think so?"
"Yes."
"I see," said Flitwick. "Are you planning on going home early?"
"Er, yeah."
"Good. I'd like to take the opportunity to wish you a summer that is... well, as wonderful as it can possibly be."
Remus nodded again. "Thank you, sir."
He and Peter did not go to Potions class that afternoon: instead, they went back up to the dormitory and played Exploding Snap with James and Sirius for two hours straight.
It wasn't much fun.
Dumbledore knocked on the Marauders' dormitory door a little after dinner. "Remus, Madam Pomfrey has expressed concern that the four of you did not show up to lunch nor dinner..."
Remus, Peter, Sirius, and James tried in vain to hide the mountains food behind their backs, but Dumbledore only smiled.
"Ah, I see. I am not entirely certain how you managed to slip into the Kitchens undetected. You realize that food in dormitories is against the rules?"
The four of them nodded slowly.
"Well, as long as you realize it. Carry on." Dumbledore turned to leave, whistling gaily—and then he stopped. "How are you?" he asked seriously. "All of you."
Remus' mouth was partially full, but he tried to answer anyway. "Alive," he said.
Dumbledore smiled again. "That is all I ask."
Remus slept in the next day. At twelve-seventeen exactly, Dumbledore knocked on the dormitory door. "May I come in?" he asked, and Remus scrambled to open the door for him.
"Afternoon, Professor," he said.
"Good afternoon, Remus. Where are your friends?"
"Lunch. I told them I wanted to be alone for a bit."
"And you're certain that they don't want to say goodbye? It might be a very long summer for all four of you."
"They said goodbye before they left," said Remus, which was absolutely true.. "I'll probably see them this summer, anyhow. Peter wants to invite us over to meet his mum. I'm not sure if Sirius is going to be able to come, but..." Remus wasn't sure what to say after that, so he started a new sentence. "I was going to go around and say goodbye to the other professors, too, but I wasn't sure if they knew and I didn't want to..." Remus didn't know how to finish that sentence, either.
"I understand," said Dumbledore.
Remus looked away, and in doing so, he noticed the destroyed fifth bed that had been in their dormitory since first year. Everyone else was in roommate groups of five, but not the Marauders—they were a group of four, always a group of four, and the reason that this room only housed four was that one of the smaller beds in the very corner was absolutely destroyed. James and Sirius liked to jump on it sometimes. It was just a whimsical, funny thing, to have a destroyed bed in the corner of the room. They'd used to make up stories about how it was torn apart like that.
"Professor, I asked you once what happened to that bed," said Remus slowly. "It was after you took me back to the school after the Werewolf Registry in my first year, I think."
"I recall that event, yes."
"And you told me to ask Professor Questus. You said he knew."
"So I did."
"Er... I never did that. I forgot. And now... I can't. So would you tell me what happened to it? James and Sirius and Peter and I have been wondering for a long time."
Dumbledore smiled. "Of course, Remus. First, I assume John has told you about Clementine?"
Remus nodded. "Multiple times over," he joked.
"Well, this used to be a girls' dormitory—we had to change it in 1954 due to an unfortunate incident involving Gillyweed and an inordinate amount of water. Clementine held a grudge against the girl who slept here, and she thought that it would be funny to practice every single hex that she could find on this very bed. I believe John somehow managed to sneak in and help at some point, but I have no idea how. After almost two years of this, the bed has been destroyed beyond recovery. Clementine, ever responsible for her own decisions, decided to switch beds with the girl halfway through first year so that she could continue hexing it. The girl tried to report the Questuses, of course, but Clementine Questus had been very careful to cover up the evidence."
Remus thought about that. "I wish Professor Questus had told me that one himself," he said sadly. "He would have told it better. No offense."
Dumbledore patted Remus' right shoulder. "None taken. Now, before we leave, I have one last request. Well... it is not a request, I'm afraid, as my mind is already made up. Instead, let's call it a warning. I have asked Madam Pomfrey to come visit your house after the full moon on Friday and help heal you. Stress tends to make it worse (I think none can deny that you are stressed, Remus), and I do not want your parents to worry about you on top of everything else."
Any other time, Remus might have protested; after all, he'd done this a hundred times before, and he hadn't died yet. There was no point in making a fuss. But today, he was too weary of thinking—too weary of feeling—too weary of not feeling—and so he merely nodded and said, "That's sensible."
"I'm glad you agree. Are you ready to go home now?"
Remus grabbed his trunk. "Yes," he said. Dumbledore grasped Remus' left arm, and then changed his mind and moved to Remus' other side. Remus' didn't even have time to ask why.
Remus, as he was standing in front of his parents' house, realized why Dumbledore had switched sides. It hadn't been because of the werewolf bite on Remus' left shoulder, as Remus had initially thought (it wasn't physically sensitive anymore, but it was emotionally sensitive at times). No, it had been because of the town. The town was to the right of Remus' house, and Dumbledore was now standing in a position that perfectly obstructed the sight of carnage and destruction from Remus' view. Remus didn't even try to look past him. He didn't want to.
The noise of Apparition emerged from within the house, and then the door opened before Remus even had a chance to knock. It was his mum, and Remus was enveloped in a suffocating, desperate hug that smelled of tears and felt like a choking vice. "I heard Dad Apparate, though," he said, just after his father stepped outside as well. "How'd you get here first?"
"I was already waiting by the door," came his mother's muffled reply, "so I was faster. Thank you, Albus."
"It was my pleasure," said Dumbledore. "Poppy Pomfrey will be here early Saturday morning—likely before moonset, even. Please take care of yourselves, and..."
Dumbledore said more, but Remus wasn't listening. He couldn't see the town down the hill, this time due to his mother's fierce hug, but he could see the side of Questus' house... his eyes darted to it as he strained to see anything more, but it looked exactly the same to Remus. That made sense—it hadn't been destroyed. The only difference was that Professor Questus was no longer there.
"What's happening to the house?" he said, realizing too late that he'd interrupted Professor Dumbledore. "Sorry," Remus mumbled.
Dumbledore didn't bat an eye. "John's house, you mean? I thought that we would discuss that later."
"Oh." Remus glanced at his father. His jaw was set, and he was looking anywhere but Dumbledore's face.
"I believe I should be getting back to the castle," said Dumbledore. "Unless, of course, there is something else that I can do for you... even something small..."
"There isn't," said Remus' father, and Remus was surprised to hear that his voice was as strong and unbroken as ever. "Thank you for everything, Professor."
"I am no longer your professor, Lyall," said Dumbledore, and Remus was reminded of Professor Questus.
There were a few more goodbyes that Remus didn't pay much attention to, and then, in half an instant that Remus didn't even fully register, Dumbledore was gone and Remus was sitting on the couch and hugging his crying mother.
For a long time, Remus had believed that being bitten by a werewolf was the worst thing that could happen to a person, but now he wasn't so sure.
AN: :(
