Yes, it's what you've all been waiting for… TA-DA! The new chapter of "BY THE LIGHT OF THE MOON"! Yay! Isn't it wonderful, amazing, etc. – I've been missing-in-action (i.e. on holiday) from November 24th till December 4th; then for several days I had no internet access; then no inspiration; then Speech Night (my final one since I've now finished school! A-woo-hoo…!) – so now I'm writing again.
DISCLAIMER: Everything belongs to J.K. Rowling, excluding Alexander, Roxane, Cassius, Sarissa, Vivien Travers, Tracy Macmillian, Professor Cendric, Neptune the cat, Jolly the House-Elf, and all those irritating little ltfd., grt., and rtd. things. (the first one is the only one that actually means anything [Latifundian]; the other two are normal [great] and [retard] and simply for my own amusement. Whatever).
I hope you enjoy this new chapter, and I little hellooo goes out to my dedicated readers Moony Lover, Piri Lupin-Snape and Clare. I hope you like it most of all!
***
Dumbledore's Accession
February 28th 1969, 7:56am
"And, so," Alexander Malfoy read, his face flushed red and eyes bright with excitement, "after serving the Magical Schooling System for the past eighty-two years, Professor Armando Dippet retired yesterday, ushering in a new era at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry in the form of respected and loved Arithmancy teacher, Professor Albus Dumbledore."
My mother looked down at me in wonder, before grasping my shoulders and pulling me towards her. "Remus, my Remus…" she murmured, her voice shaking as the tears of happiness, ones she had not shed in my memory, escaped from her body. "Keep reading, Father," she urged Alexander, and he nodded and pushed his reading glasses further up onto his nose.
"Professor Dumbledore has taught at Hogwarts since 1922, originally taking the position of Transfiguration teacher (Prof. Minerva McGonagall, Bf. Ltfdn. Ght. 1957), and for many years has acted as Deputy to the retiring headmaster. A dedicated teacher, he is also famed for his defeat of the Dark Wizard Grindelwald in 1945, for discovering the twelve uses of dragon's blood, and for his work on alchemy with his friend Nicolas Flamel. Albus Dumbledore's accession to the position of Headmaster at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry is certainly an attribution to the high respect in which he is held throughout the British Wizarding Syndicate, and in the entire Wizarding World."
As my grandfather lowered the newspaper deliberately, my mother still holding tight to my shoulders, I noticed my uncle Cassius leaning against the opposite wall. His mouth twitched and he gave me the most thrilling smile I have ever experienced – nothing like his usual sneer, or the false grin he used in photographs. This smile thrilled through my veins which had only just begun to relax since my latest episode… he loved me. My uncle, who barely had time for his own child, loved me, a fatherless outcast, and he believed that my success had been assured by that morning's news, and he loved me for it.
Cassius slunk out of the kitchen quietly as Shosanna bustled in, her arms full with plates of sizzling bacon and fried tomatoes. I watched him until he disappeared into the labyrinth of corridors that wormed their way around the Malfoy Manor and when I felt Mother squeeze my hand excitedly, and smelt the warm food as it lay before me on my plate, I smiled also.
***
Dearest Father
The school is in an uproar! – no, Professor Sinistra hasn't been rampaging about soot in her telescopes again, Professor Dumbledore is Headmaster! Obviously you have been reading the Daily Prophet and already know this, but it doesn't make it any less of a joyous time at Hogwarts. Not to worry, though, Father – he hasn't given up his Arithmancy classes yet, and says my algebraic contusions are coming along well this term. Much relief for you, I'm sure!
Sarissa has become a terrible priss, Father – she's been traipsing around with Vivien Travers, and whenever Evan and I walk past them all I ever hear are whispers and giggles. Cassius really ought to knock some sense into her when she gets home: all that time at prep school shouldn't be wasted by a little ninny like Travers. There are some awfully fine Slytherin girls in her year, but she ignores them in favour of the worst of the bunch! Still, I'm sure even Travers is better than a Hufflepuff – the other day in Potions, Tracy Macmillan blew up her cauldron for the fourth time this year! Professor Cendric even enlisted a sixth-year Ravenclaw to tutor her, but like all of their kind, they simply can't help being stupid.
I'm really getting sick of all these talentless Purebloods, Father – no wonder the Muggle-born intake is so high. Near-squibs are running about all over the place, making mayhem and nobody sees fit to stop it. Maybe now that Professor Dumbledore is in charge the standards upheld by the Founders Four will once again be considered.
Love to you all – as Wizards committed to excellence!
Lucius
***
Summer rolled in with the soft, fluffy clouds and cornflower-blue skies that were common at our secluded home. When the train, bursting full with Hogwarts students rolled in as well I writhed in the Malfoy cellar, too mad inside my own mind to notice such banalities as the return of cousins who continued to drift away, further and further, as each school year passed. Blue might the sky have been, but in my reality only the blood and the darkness dwelled, spurred by the pain in my fingertips, my hands, my arms, as though the very hairs were being plucked from them one by one. I felt my second anniversary ticking closer, and the thought of being without him – Severus – made it all burn fiercer than before, so that the blood grew thicker and the darkness expanded allowing the three day sojourn from my sanity to become never-ending and infinitely terrifying.
When I awoke, Evan Rosier dwelled at our home for another summer and Sarissa had brought along her certainly-vacuous friend Vivien to confide in. Thankful that I was no longer required to listen as Sarissa poured her heart out in muddled adolescent pools all over her bedroom, her gain of a friend seemed to mock my own loss, and I found myself missing Severus with a deeper pain than I had felt in the time since we had been separated. Certainly, the thought of his beginning at Hogwarts in the fall made my own heart ache for my own acceptance; and, if both of us were at the same school I was sure we would find each other again, his mother would relent when she realised there was no use hindering our friendship, and life would be perfect again. Or, as near to perfect as I could find in both of our muddled, magical worlds.
Otherwise, the summer passed with the usual excitements – ringing for the house elves and ordering absurd foods from the kitchen, such as eye-scream, pickled toad-jam and elder-bury pies. More often than not, they would return with the item and we would scream with laughter, falling over ourselves at the sight of cold, unblinking eyes staring at us from the top of a cream puff with a green gunge positioned artistically to the side. Sarissa's cat, a complacent tabby she incongruously called Neptune flew up in flames one day in the parlour – neither Evan, Lucius or I could safely say which of us had caused it – and the three of us were sent, shoulders drooping but shaking all the same with laughter to Grandfather's office in the North Wing. We all received a severe talking to; apparently Neptune had been saved by Shosanna's quickly-cast Flame Freeze charm, but Sarissa refused to believe that he was fine and was weeping in her room, being comforted by Vivien and Aunt Nicolette. Uncle Cassius winked at us as we left the room, and I felt considerably excused after that. Unbeknownst to me, our family had not received a notice from the Improper Use of Magic Office concerning underage Wizardry, and led my Uncle to believe that this was a direct sign of my unharnessed magical ability. As I left, however, Evan and Lucius already rampaging once more ahead of me, nearly knocking over Great-Uncle Edmond (twice-removed) in his revered portrait, I heard my Grandfather whisper to my Uncle, and Cassius reply slowly and deliberately: "If he is what you say, Father, as Grindelwald come again, we will need minds for our task, as well as drones."
I never heard Grandfather's answer as Shosanna promptly whisked me away from the hall to my punishment – polishing the contents of the Malfoy trophy room, in which the shelves reached from floor to ceiling and were crammed full, the newest addition being a plaque presented to Lucius on his academic success in Arithmancy and Potions. Like the dutiful child I was I polished every inch of silver in the room, with a smile at the thought of Evan and Lucius clearing the humungous cellar, whose job would take them infinitely longer with their whining, cursing and laughing. Then my heart went cold at the thought of Severus, and I half-imagined him standing beside me, his hands covered in silver polish and his lips parting as he whispered a joke to me, and I suppressing a laugh as I glanced back at Jolly, the house elf who was keeping an eye on the two… no, now I was alone once more, and Severus was probably reading his acceptance letter to Hogwarts as my own eyes flicked over the trophy in front of me, a tribute to Myrtle Malfoy on achieving eight O.W.L's in 1942. I too dreamed of Hogwarts, but as the summer drew to a close my hopes dwindled. We had had no word from Professor Dumbledore, and Mother believed that Dippet must have destroyed the letter she had sent the previous year and decided firmly to write again once the school year commenced.
In August, while seated at the breakfast table our family owl, the one used for personal correspondence rather than Jules and Petrov, respectively Grandfather and Uncle Cassius' business owls, dropped a small note into my morning porridge. As I fished it out and shook the oats off, my mother stared at me curiously, her eyes limpidly awaiting my explanation. Chuckling underneath my breath I opened it and recognised the untidy scrawl immediately.
Remus,
Must be quick… Mother still won't let me see you. Got my letter this morning! I'll be in Diagon Alley later in the week, but don't mind about meeting me, Mother wouldn't allow it. I don't feel as excited as I should, maybe that's because you're not sitting here telling me how wonderful it all is. Don't reply; Mother'd never let me read it.
I'll see you at Hogwarts, I suppose…? I hope, anyway.
Severus
My mother's inquiring look grew much too irritating so, without glancing up, I muttered inanely: "Severus got his letter," and left the table. When I reached my room I could just feel the tears tickling my eyelashes and, hearing footsteps behind me, quickly shut the door behind me. The letter still in my hand, I sat down on my bedroom floor and traced the words with my finger, imagining his words appearing on the page as he scribed them hurriedly. "He must've sent it to Wizard Post," he murmured to himself, "to dissuade his mother. Laurie would've picked it up there when he got Mother's magazines."
Somehow, Severus' brief message didn't comfort me as I had expected; yesterday I would have given anything for a word from Severus, but now I felt dead inside, my emotions dry, my friendship pointless. If he could make me feel like this in a note, what did it mean? I never wanted to see him again, at Hogwarts or anywhere else. My insides, in the typical way, churned at the thought… what had killed my affection for him? Or was this a fleeting hatred, spurred by him leaving me in the same way my cousins had done and would do again in three weeks? I didn't know. I still don't.
If this was depression, I dwelled in it – and I have felt the same again, numerous times, when I couldn't stand the world anymore or the people in it. But, unlike so many others I never seemed to despise myself. I hated my Mother, for stifling me; my Father for deserting me; Lucius for condescending to me; Grandfather for ignoring me – yet, at this moment Cassius appeared the hero, no longer the villain of earlier years. When I closed my eyes I saw his smile emblazoned on my retinas, flashing hopefully, allowing me a raw glimpse into his guarded soul.
Severus Snape left for Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry on September 1st, 1969. With him, he took something precious I had held to myself for years, hoarding it like a miserly old wizard… his friendship. It would be years until he would earn my trust once more, or until I would think of him as anything but the past. He would send me the occasional owl during the next year: flippant messages concerning teachers or his new friends, and ones that sliced into my soul like a scythe cutting down the fresh warm hay. The messages stopped, he no longer had any time for someone like me. I hated him. And, somewhere deep inside himself, he knew it – and it is only now that I wonder whether my actions caused his own fall from grace.
***
Ms. Roxane Lupin (1957)
The Malfoy Estate, Lancashire
The Honourable Professor Dumbledore,
I am appealing to you as a Headmaster, a Professor, and a modern Wizard. I know you to be gracious and kind from my own time at Hogwarts, during which you were employed as Professor of Transfiguration (1950-1957), and I beseech you as a modern Witch and as a Mother. Last year I attempted the same from your predecessor, Mr. Armando Dippet, but was blatantly refused my request. That request is for my son, Remus James Lupin, to attend Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. I am in no doubt as to his magical abilities, his stable mind or his physical fitness. However, at the age of eight my son was bitten by a werewolf in the woods surrounding my family's estate. As is common, on the thirteenth full moon following his bite, he transformed into the beast, and was registered accordingly with the Ministry of Magic as such. I no longer feel true concern for his abnormality, he has adjusted accordingly to his fate and rarely complains regarding it; he has always been a quiet child. However, it is now that the concern of myself and of my family that he should be educated, despite his condition. His mind has always been exceptional, and based on his abilities I have no doubt that he is already recorded in the Book at Hogwarts.
My father, Mr. Alexander Malfoy (Rtd. Idt. Ltfd.), has supported me in my care of Remus and is willing to impart any portion of funds needed to assist housing my son at Hogwarts. And so, my final question to you is this: should my son be discriminated against for something he cannot prevent? Like a Muggle-born, or a squib, my son should be accepted, trained and able to live normally despite his condition.
I leave myself, and the fate of my son, entirely in your hands. I understand the safety of other students must be considered, as the well-being of the school and staff, but I appeal to you nonetheless. I await your reply anxiously.
Yours Faithfully,
Ms. Roxane Malfoy (Graduate HSWW. 1957)
***
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