A little (uhm...) homage to my own little country... Some Dutch talking in this, but nothing important to the plot, so don't bother yourself with wondering what the h*ll they're saying,
Also some cameo's in this: the people at the airport Remus nearly walks into are my parents (yay!), little Eric and his mother are actually the brother and mother of one of my best friends (yay again!) and mr and mrs Raben are more or less the grandparents of a math teacher at my old school (yep, that's Timo) who looks like Remus does in my head, so he hád to be in this fict!
Question for Ivy Crane (if you're still reading this): what does "Lupus Corpus et Animus!" mean? You said it in your review, but alas, my Latin is... not so good.
Anyway, new chapter! Review, please!
September 1979.
"Denkend aan Holland zie ik brede rivieren,
traag door oneindig laagland gaan…"
Remus peeked through the tiny window to the clouds outside. He tried to move his feet, but could hardly do it; the Muggle aeroplane didn't allow him much space. It gave him a claustrophobic feeling.
A prickling feeling told him his feet were sleeping, but he had to endure it and wait till they were landed. He sighed and concentrated on his book again.
A few minutes later, someone tapped on his shoulder.
"Excuse me," a brown-haired woman in a blue uniform said. "Would you please fasten your seatbelts? We'll be landing in about ten minutes."
"Yeah, sure," he nodded. She smiled at him and continued telling people to fasten their seatbelts. Remus frowned, and concentrated on the problem of his seatbelts.
What was the problem with those things anyway? You had two ends, and you should be able to click them together. At least, every Muggle seemed to be able to do it…
Remus fought a heavy battle with his belts, and, to his relief, he finally heard a soft click. He put his book away, and rested his head against the head rest of his chair. He concentrated on the people around him, sharpening his ears.
Of course, he shouldn't be doing this, but sometimes it was fun. And he wouldn't be able to understand the people around him for more than two weeks anyway.
The first thing he heard was the stewardess telling someone to fasten his seatbelts. Everywhere around him, he heard the familiar click. In the last row, a man was snoring in his sleep; the stewardess had not yet reached him.
English mixed with incomprehensible Dutch; Remus had the feeling his head was spinning. Suddenly, he received a deep man's voice, who was having a very odd conversation…
"Stupid Muggles," the man growled. "If I wanted to feel like a sardine in it's tin, I would've learned to be an Animagus."
"Now, now," hushed a woman's voice. "It's just because Apparating at such a distance is not quite safe. And we'll be there soon."
Remus lifted his head and turned around in his chair, to the place where the voices were coming from. A few rows behind him, a rather large man was pressed in a chair, and he was looking very uncomfortable indeed. A shorter woman with blond curly hair was sitting next to him, patting his hand in a comforting gesture. Remus tuned in to them.
"… quite a happening, taking a Muggle aeroplane, isn't it?" said the woman. "See it as an adventure, something fun."
"I'm not having fun when I'm squeezed in a chair," said the man darkly. He looked up and saw Remus looking at him. The man gave him an angry look.
"There's a Muggle staring at us," he told the woman. Remus turned around, just as she saw him.
"You think he heard us?" she asked her husband.
"From such a distance? Hardly," he replied. Remus smiled to himself.
~*~
The aeroplane landed at Schiphol Airport, near Amsterdam. He picked up his suitcase – a new one, bought only a week ago – and tried to find a way to get to Amsterdam. That shouldn't be so difficult, he thought. If only this airport wasn't so crowded…
He craned his neck and scanned the surroundings for perhaps a station or a taxi. He was so busy searching that he didn't notice where he was going, and almost walked into a young woman, only a few years older than he was, with glasses. She had blond hair and was carrying a suitcase too. She was accompanied by a taller man with dark hair.
Oh, sorry," she said. "Ik keek niet uit waar ik liep." He blinked. He couldn't understand a word of what she was saying, but he did understand that she was sorry.
"Never mind," he said quickly. "It's okay." She seemed a bit uncertain, but then realised he didn't mind. She apologised again and disappeared in the crowd.
He shook his head and continued his way. After about ten minutes he saw a sign with "Taxi" on it, and he took the heavy challenge upon himself of finding out how Muggle taxis work.
~*~
Remus had allowed himself one week free before he started the practical part of his self-study, and in that week he tried to travel through the whole Netherlands. That tiny land, however, proved to be too big to see everything of it in one week. The capital city, Amsterdam, appeared to be an adventure of its own, and there was more. Remus travelled from city to village. He had the most fun in an old city called Oudewater, where the so called "Heksenwaag" was situated. A giant scale, used in the middle ages to weigh people to see if they were witches or wizards. It was said that witches weighed almost nothing, to be able to fly on their broom. For the fun of it, Remus took the test himself, and was highly amused when it turned out that he couldn't possibly be a wizard. The feeling of his wand in his pocket told him otherwise, but he didn't dare tell the Muggle behind the counter.
After that one week of travelling around, he got on the train to meet the wizard at who's house he was going to stay for the two upcoming weeks. Staring out of the window to the flat and broad Dutch landscapes, he occasionally touched his eyebrows, feeling the small stubbles. He'd felt really stupid that morning, shaving the bridge of his nose, and he still doubted if it was a good thing to do. It did make him look more normal, though. But perhaps he was the only person who constantly noticed his -seemingly- single eyebrow, every time he saw his reflection in the mirror.
A nervous feeling made his stomach turn. He felt like he was on the train to Hogwarts again, but this time there were no James or Sirius to distract him. For a few moments, he wondered what James and Lily were doing. They were probably together, laying on a beach that looked like an advertisement for a travelling agency or something.
The train slowed down, and he took his suitcase and got out. Somehow, he managed to find his way to the centre of the city, to an old church, where he was supposed to meet his first teacher.
It was market day on the square in front of the church, so it was pretty crowded. Remus found a bench to sit on, and took the letter out of the pocket of his Muggle-coat.
"Meet me a twelve o'clock in front of Saint Michael's church in Zwolle" it said. That was here. He folded the letter up again and put it in his pocket. Then he looked up at the church, wondering where the tower was. Churches usually had a tower, right?
He suddenly noticed someone was standing at his right side. He turned his head, but there was no one. Then he felt something near his leg. He looked down, and saw a small boy of maybe five years staring up at him with large brown eyes. The hair on his head was pitch-black.
"Hello," Remus said. The boy didn't reply. Suddenly, a short woman appeared, taking the little boy's hand.
"Eric, wat zei ik nou? Bij mama blijven!" she said. Remus wished he'd taken a few "how to say it in Dutch"lessons, because he didn't understand a word of what she was saying. She looked up at him (she was really, really short) and said something of which he only understand something that sounded like "sorry". He nodded and smiled, like he understood what she was saying. Then she left, little Eric next to her, his little hand in her own hand.
Remus sat down again, just waiting. He looked around, and saw a slender man looking at him. He had white hair, and was not much taller than Remus. He appeared to be looking for someone as well.
Although there was just a minor chance that he was looking for Remus, Remus decided he could just as well ask if this was the person he was supposed to meet. He got up and approached the man.
"Excuse me," he said politely, "but are you looking for someone?"
"Are you Remus Lupin?" the man asked in return. His English was perfect.
"Yes, are you mister Raben?" asked Remus, taking the letter out of his pocket again.
"Yeah, that's me," the man answered, nodding as he saw the letter. "Now, if you'd come this way…" He gestured for Remus to follow him, and stopped a few minutes later near a ordinary Muggle car.
"It's better not to draw too much attention, so we have to travel by car," he explained. The two of them got in, Remus' suitcase in the trunk, and drove off, Mr Raben behind the steering wheel.
~*~
Mr and Mrs Raben lived in the middle of a forest, in a piece of the Netherlands called "de Veluwe", something Remus never managed to pronounce properly. It was so peaceful and quiet that one morning, when he'd got out of bed and looked out of the window, Remus saw a group of deer standing in the backyard.
Mr Raben himself was equally quiet, but his wife seemed to think this obliged her to compensate her husband, and almost talked Remus' ears off his head. Her favourite subject was their grandson Timo, who apparently turned one year a few weeks ago, and she kept on talking about him, how sweet he was with his blue eyes, his brown hair, etc. Every time Remus got outside with her husband, it almost felt like an escape.
He soon learned that the most important quality of someone experienced in the Dark Arts, beside not being afraid of the creatures you're facing, was patience. He spent was seemed like hours and hours waiting for the Witte Wieven to appear. According to his mentor, autumn, winter and early spring were the best periods to study them.
"Muggles think they're just bits of fog," he'd said once, "but that is not true. They're spirits of women that lived here. They just like fog, to disappear in, and they have the most fun when they've lured someone into getting lost."
"Like a Hinkypunk," said Remus.
"Indeed. And like all dark creatures, they hope the lost person never finds his way out of the woods again."
In the last few days of Remus' stay, at the end of September and the beginning of October, as it got colder, it frequently happened that there was fog in the morning, and they managed to see some Witte Wieven. They looked like women, beautiful but sad women, and they tried to talk Remus and Mr Raben into following them into the mist. They knew better than to do that, however.
~*~
On the evening before Remus was going home again, Mrs Raben thought it necessary to make some kind of feast, almost as if they were celebrating they were rid of Remus again. There were candles on the table, fine china dinner service, and apparently the best cutlery.
Remus absentmindedly picked up his fork, and immediately dropped it when he felt the burning. It was like he'd picked up a burning poker. He looked at the palm of his hand, and saw a long red mark.
Silver.
He looked up, and his eyes met those of Mr Raben, on the other side of the table.
"I suspected as much," he said.
Remus suprised himself with his panic. He suddenly broke into a cold sweat, and his heart felt as if it had started running a marathon. They knew.
"Er… what do you mean?" he said hypocritically. His host snorted.
"The silver fork, that's what I mean."
"I don't know what you're talking about," Remus lied, his heart pounding.
"Then pick up your fork again," said Mr Raben. His wife was silently watching them.
Remus hesitated. He could pick up the fork again, and burn the skin off his hands, or he could confess he was what they obviously already knew he was; a werewolf.
"How did you find out?" he asked, thus confirming their suppositions.
"Oh, c´mon son," said Mr Raben. "I'm specialised in the Dark Arts. Did you really think I wouldn't recognise one of the Lonely Ones? I expect that's why you're leaving tomorrow?"
"How…" said Remus faintly.
"Various things," said the old man, while his wife quickly changed Remus' cutlery for an ordinary knife, fork and spoon. "For example your yellowish eyes, the extraordinary amount of hair on your arms, the fact that you shave the bridge of your nose." Remus unintentionally rubbed the bridge of his nose.
"And now I have a question for you. Why?"
"Why what?" Remus asked dully.
"Why did you come here?"
"Because I wanted to study the Dark Arts, but the University didn't accept me, because, well, you know…"
"And then?"
"And then my mother suggested I could teach myself from books, and travelling around. That's how I ended up here."
"And why didn't you tell us before?" Raben asked, meanwhile indicating that they should all start eating.
"Because I was afraid you would hate me," Remus confessed. "Only a few people know what I am, and even fewer have accepted it."
"Your family and friends?"
"My friends know, the few I have anyway. My parents have accepted it, my brother doesn't know better, to him I've always been… a werewolf. But my aunt, for example, doesn't want me to stay over for a single night, not even when it's a new moon."
Both Mr and Mrs Raben nodded. "I see…"
"Why didn't you tell me before that you knew?" asked Remus after a few minutes of silence.
"Because we admired your courage of coming here, even though most people would be frightened of you as soon as they found out the truth," said Mrs Raben. "And because we hoped-"
"Against better judgement," muttered her husband.
"- that we were wrong, that you weren't a werewolf," she finished.
"But you were right," said Remus.
"It doesn't matter anymore," Mr Raben cut in. "You'll be leaving tomorrow anyway." His voice seemed to have obtained a steely edge that hadn't been there before. Apparently, he wasn't very fond of werewolves. He might even have a tiny dislike for them, as Sirius probably would have put it. Remus nodded, and they passed the rest of the evening in tense silence, that was only broken by polite phrases, and Mrs Raben's empty chatter.
~*~
The next day, his host and teacher for the past two weeks saw him off on the train, and then left, apparently glad to be rid of Remus. Remus shrugged, being equally as happy to go home again. He sat down in a corner of a compartment, and looked out of the window, listening to the rhythm of the train. His mind went over the events of the past three weeks, what he'd seen and done. This trip had turned out well, in almost every way possible. What would be next?
He smiled, closed his eyes. Whatever it was, he'd live through it.