Halloween 1993.
"Professor Lupin looked cheerful and as well as he ever did; he was talking animatedly to tiny little Professor Flitwick, the Charms teacher."
Cheerful and excited murmur filled the Great Hall on the morning of October the 31st. There would be a feast to celebrate Halloween that evening, and all the students (and the staff, for that matter) were looking forward to it. To make things better, the first Hogsmeade weekend was planned that afternoon, allowing everybody in third year and higher to visit the wizard-village close to Hogwarts.
Remus would be going as well. Not to check if Madame Rosmerta´s butterbeer was as good as he remembered it, but to pick up something he'd ordered: a Grindylow. He needed one for his lessons, so he'd owled the Magical Menagerie in Diagon Alley. For some unknown reason they'd send it to Hogsmeade Postoffice instead of directly to Hogwarts, owling him a letter: would he be so kind as to pick it up? Oh well, not that he really minded: it was nice weather outside, and the short walk would give him some exercise.
After lunch, he walked to his chambers and quickly put on his cloak. He'd better go before two o'clock, when the students would be released. Hogsmeade would be packed with teenagers then, and it would be nearly impossible to get a Grindylow safe to Hogwarts, with everybody wanting to see the little creature.
When he'd got his cloak on, he looked out of the window and decided that wearing a scarf wouldn't be that bad, so he picked up the grey woollen thing (Remus' younger brother Romulus claimed that the grey wool "matched Remus' fur". Whatever…he never wore it when he was a werewolf).
Remus was still wrestling a bit with his scarf when he walked down the Marble Staircase, past four third year students he knew (of course I know them, I'm teaching them).
"Goodmorning, professor Lupin," one of them greeted him.
"Goodmorning, girls," he greeted back, standing still on the stairs to talk to them. He had been suspecting for some time that the tight-knit group of friends, all Ravenclaw girls, had a crush on him, and he knew he was right when he saw the fire-red colour on their cheeks. It was exactly the look James used to have when he was looking at Lily, before they were dating.
"Are you going somewhere?" one of them, a brown-haired girl, managed to say. The others tried their very best not to look too stupid.
"I am. I'm going to Hogsmeade," he told them. A look of delight appeared on their face.
"Oh, we're going too, this afternoon!" the brown-haired girl, who acted as the spokeswoman, said. "Maybe we'll meet you there."
"I don't think so," Remus replied, and laughed inwardly as he saw how they all tried to look not too disappointed. "I'm only going to the Postoffice to pick something up." He started to walk on, but added, "I´ll see you at the feast then, tonight."
"Yes, goodbye, professor," the four of them chimed sadly. He walked down the Marble Staircase, but made sure he still had his ears turned to them, to listen to what they were saying. The first thing he heard was a lot of (muffled) screaming.
"O my God, I talked to him!" the brown-haired girl positively shrieked. "What did I say?!"
"You said we were going to Hogsmeade this afternoon, and he isn't," one of her friends replied. "Now shh, you don't want him to hear you, do you?"
"He can't hear us, he's practically at the other end of the Entrancehall," a third voice said.
"He is so nice," the fourth girl swooned. "And so handsome…" At this point, Remus had to fight hard to keep himself from dying in a fit of laughing.
"If only he would look back one more time," the first girl sighed when he reached for the doorknob to open the heavy oak door.
Remus couldn't help himself. He turned around, waved at the four girls with a smile on his face, and sneaked through the door before they could faint.
~*~
"Yes, how may I help you?" The grey-haired witch behind the counter of the Postoffice eyed Remus disdainfully. So much for being friendly to your customers, he thought.
"Ah, yes, I'm here to pick up something I ordered."
"Name?"
"Lupin."
She took a long list and checked it. "Lupin, professor R. J.?"
"All the way."
She raised an eyebrow which almost made him wonder if she was a relative of Snape, and disappeared behind a door. He was left alone with the dozens of owls sitting sleepily along the walls. Each one of them was labelled differently. There were owls for short-distance messages, but also for oversea-messages. Some of the owls hooted softly when they saw him looking at them, others didn't even take the effort to blink an eye.
The witch reappeared, carrying – with some effort – a large tank. It was filled with water, weed, and a greenish Grindylow, pulling angry faces at the two humans.
"I don't know what you're going to do with it, but I for one am glad to be rid of it," the Post Witch commented chagrined. "Sign here." She hold out a sheet of paper and a quill.
"Why? Did he bite you?" he asked while signing. He had barely put the quill down when she snatched the paper away. "No, but it's tank cluttered the storage room. Now get that thing out."
For a microsecond, he thought about carrying the tank all the way to Hogwarts, but quickly discarded that thought. Now he knew why it hadn't been send to Hogwarts directly: owls couldn't possibly lift the 3 gallon tank. Fortunately, wizards could rely on "Wingardium Leviosa". The tank floated in mid-air and Remus had no problems whatsoever in getting the Grindylow to his chambers. He positioned the tank in a corner of his office (no way was he going to place that creature in his bedchamber. Imagine that looking at you all night…) and was about to make himself a cup of tea when he heard footsteps on the hallway. Judging by the sound of it, it was a student. Probably one of the first- or second years, he thought, checking his watch. It's five past two, the Hogsmeade-afternoon has just begun. Unable to resist his curiosity, he poked his head around the door, and saw – much to his surprise – Harry Potter. "Harry?"
The scarred boy turned in surprise. When he saw Remus, he seemed somewhat relieved.
"What are you doing?" Remus asked. "Where are Ron and Hermione?" Harry and his friends were practically like each other's shadows, one not far from the other. It was odd to see Harry all alone.
"Hogsmeade," Harry shrugged.
"Ah," Remus replied. He thought about this for a moment. He knew that Harry wasn't allowed in Hogsmeade, that his uncle and aunt hadn't signed the form, and that McGonagall and Dumbledore didn't really regret that. Must be boring for the boy, though. "Why don't you come in? I've just taken delivery of a Grindylow for our next lesson."
"A what?" said Harry as he stepped into Remus' office.
Remus nodded at the creature pulling faces. "Water demon. We shouldn't have much difficulty with him, not after the Kappas. The trick is to break his grip. You notice the abnormally long fingers? Strong, but very brittle." He suddenly noticed he had unconsciously slipped into "full professor mode", even though it was Saturday afternoon. He remembered his original plan to make tea. "Cup of tea?" he suggested, looking around and trying to remember where he had put his kettle. "I was just thinking of making one."
"All right," Harry said.
Remus picked up his battered kettle from the floor (what on earth is it doing there?!) and tapped it with his wand. A blast of steam erupted from the spout.
"Sit down," he invited Harry. Remus took the lid of an old tin he had for years, one with Chinese decorations on it – a black underground with gold and red drawings of people in kimonos enjoying tea. "I've only got teabags, I'm afraid – but I daresay you've had enough of tealeaves?"
Harry seemed taken aback. "How do you know about that?" Remus couldn't help but smile. "Professor McGonagall told me that." He put a teabag in the kettle with hot water, tapped it with his wand, waited a moment, and poured himself and Harry a cup of tea. He gave one to Harry. "You're not worried, are you?"
"No," the boy replied. He sipped his hot tea, lost in thoughts. A slight frown was on his forehead.
"Anything worrying you, Harry?" Remus asked. He had to know, it was some kind of instinct to look after James' son.
"No," Harry said again. Remus suspected the boy wasn't telling the entire truth, but didn't push the subject. They both watched the Grindylow pulling more faces and brandishing a tiny fist at them. Harry drank some more tea, then suddenly put his mug down. "Yes," he said. "You know that day we fought the Boggart?"
"Yes," said Remus carefully, wondering where this was leading to.
"Why didn't you let me fight it?" Harry wanted to know, rather unexpectedly. Remus raised his eyebrows. Of all the topics he had expected, this was one of the least. "I would have thought that was obvious, Harry," he said. It was, wasn't it? Right?
"What?" said Harry, utterly surprised.
Okay, maybe not.
"Well," Remus said. "I assumed that if the Boggart faced you, it would assume the shape of Lord Voldemort." Harry's stare told Remus he had been completely wrong.
"Clearly, I was wrong," he said. "But I didn't think it a good idea for Lord Voldemort to materialise in the staffroom. I imagined that people would panic."
"I didn't think of Voldemort," said Harry, a look of understanding on his face. "I – I remembered those Dementors."
"I see," was Remus' reply. Of course the Dementors. Twit, why didn't you think of that! "Well, well… I'm impressed." Harry narrowed his eyes in surprise, and it looked so much like James that it made Remus smile. "That suggest that what you fear most of all is – fear. Very wise, Harry."
Harry didn't answer to this, but took another sip of his tea. Remus had an idea of what was troubling the boy. "So you've been thinking that I didn't believe you capable of fighting the Boggart?" he tried to lure the boy.
"Well… yeah," Harry admitted, brightening up. He raised his head, an enthusiastic shimmer in his eyes. "Professor Lupin, you know the Dementors – "
Somebody knocked shortly on the door, interrupting Harry's question. "Come in," Remus said.
When the door opened, Remus wasn't that surprised to see Snape come in, carrying a smoking goblet. The scent of Wolfsbane Potion invaded the office.
"Ah, Severus," he said, smiling politely. "Thanks very much. Could you leave it here on the desk for me?" Dumbledore had refused to bring the Wolfsbane Potion, reasoning that it didn't help Severus and Remus liking each other better. The Headmaster had insisted on either Remus going to the dungeons or Severus going to Remus' chambers. And no, he wouldn't make a schedule. They'd have to sort that out themselves. They had decided that Remus would go down every other day. Severus would climb the stairs on the other days. It worked so far…
Snape put down the goblet – Remus would never believe placing it on a pile of parchment was an accident – and suspiciously looked at Harry. His black eyes darted between Remus and the green-eyed boy, and he was obviously making all kind of weird theories about why Harry was in Remus' office. Remus choose to ignore Snape´s behaviour. Instead, he pointed at the Grindylow tank. "I was just showing Harry my Grindylow," he said.
"Fascinating," Snape said shortly, never taking his eyes off Harry. Remus suspected that if he had said "look at that statue of naked Dumbledore wearing one of your cauldrons as a hat," Snape would've been equally impressed.
"You should drink that directly, Lupin," the Potion Master continued. Remus cringed inwardly at the thought of the potion. "Yes, yes, I will."
"I made an entire cauldronful, if you need more."
"I should probably take some again tomorrow. Thanks very much, Severus." Hopefully that is enough to get the message: "now leave!" through.
"Not at all," Snape replied, finally leaving the room, back first. His eyes were narrowed and there was an unpleasant look in them. It was almost as if he had said "I know what you are. Would Potter still sit so quietly with you if he knew too?"
Remus noticed Harry looking curiously at the goblet. Remus smiled. In so many ways so much like James…
"Professor Snape has very kindly – " eugh, sorry Marauders "- concocted a potion for me," he explained. "I have never been much of a potion-brewer and this one is particularly complex." He picked up the goblet and sniffed it, though he didn't know why. It smelled as bad as before. "Pity sugar makes it useless." Though I suspect Severus of intentionally not researching any possibilities of making it taste better, he thought while he took a sip and shuddered.
"Why - ?" Harry started a sentence. Remus knew what he was going to ask and already had the old excuse ready.
"I've been feeling a bit off-colour," he said. "This potion is the only thing that helps. I'm very lucky to be working alongside professor Snape; there aren't many wizards who are up to making it."
Remus took another gulp. Harry was looking at him with a strange expression on his face.
"Professor Snape´s very interested in the Dark Arts," he suddenly said.
"Really?" Remus replied, not really interested. His mind was with the disgusting potion, and it wasn't exactly news to him either.
"Some people reckon – " Harry hesitated for a moment. "Some people reckon he'd do anything to get the Defence Against the Dark Arts job."
Even though this was a great opportunity to make a sarcastic comment about Snape wanting the job, but not having it, Remus ignored the comment and drained the goblet. He involuntary pulled a face. "Disgusting. Well, Harry, I´d better get back to work." He had a whole pile of papers to grade – if they weren't unreadable because of Snape. "See you at the feast later."
"Right," said Harry, placing his empty mug next to Remus' on the cluttered desk.
Remus watched him walk out the door, then turned his attention to his work. He had placed the goblet, which still smelled like Wolfsbane Potion, in the windowsill, in front of the open window. It was still smoking.
~*~
It was already dark outside when Remus walked down the stairs to the Great Hall. Most of the students were inside, and he hurried because he was late. The Great Hall was magnificently decorated. Groups of bats flew around, there were hundreds of lights, hidden in carved pumpkins. Just below the enchanted ceiling, long orange streamers were floating, moving like long snakes. Remus sat down between professors Flitwick and Vector.
"There you are then," squeaked tiny Flitwick. "I already started to wonder."
"I was feeding my Grindylow," Remus told him. "And I forgot the time."
"Ah, a Grindylow," Flitwick said, after Dumbledore had announced that the feast had begun. "Fascinating little creatures. Fascinatingly irritating too." Remus laughed.
"Quite right, professor. The trick is to know how to handle them."
"Ah, and I'm sure you do." The short professor pointed at Remus with his fork. "You have a talent for the Dark Arts."
"Well, I wouldn't call myself unqualified, but I'm most certainly not the best in it," said Remus modestly.
"Remus, my boy, do not think on yourself so lowly," Flitwick reprimanded him. "You are the best we had in a few years."
"It can't be worse than what we had last year," professor Vector commented dryly, joining in their conversation.
"Oh, c´mon," said Remus disbelievingly. "Gilderoy Lockhart is famous for what he did! He can't possibly be worse than me!"
"Remus, I hate to speak ill of my colleagues," said professor Vector, pursing her lips, "even though he's an ex-colleague now – "
"Thank Merlin," muttered Flitwick.
" – But yes, he was worse than you, far worse."
"We had our fun when he started that Duelling Club with Severus though," said Flitwick, grinning at the memory. Vector laughed too.
"He started a Duelling Club with Severus Snape?" Remus asked. "What happened?"
"The poor man," Flitwick started. "I'm not sure whether I'm referring to Severus having to spend an entire afternoon with Lockhart, or Lockhart having to duel Severus. Oh well, the point is, Lockhart one day got it in his head that he wanted to teach the students how to duel, reasoning that it would help them, as he had done many times, blah blah blah. Before I, as a Duelling Champion – " Flitwick puffed out his chest proudly " – could offer to help, to make things better, Severus had already offered to assist Lockhart."
"Dumbledore tried to talk the idea out of Lockhart´s head, of course," Vector told the grinning Remus. "Afraid, no doubt, that Severus would blast the unfortunate man to tiny pieces. You know how Severus can be."
"But to no avail," Flitwick continued her story. "Lockhart insisted on duelling with Severus. he said that 'he couldn't let his fellow professor down, now he had promised that they would duel'." Flitwick rolled his eyes disdainfully. "So Albus resigned to the idea that Lockhart would either be seriously hurt, or very humiliated."
"And what happened?" Remus wanted to know.
"Well, the day of the Duelling Club came," Vector continued the story, "and Lockhart was as cheerful as ever, by no means showing any understanding of what could happen to him. By then, the whole staff was tired of Lockhart´s self-centred and vain behaviour, so we were all eagerly anticipating the duel. And I can't say we were hoping Lockhart would win."
"And who won?" Remus asked.
"Who do you think?" said Flitwick smiling. "Not Lockhart! Unfortunately, I couldn't be there because a few of my students were serving detention, but from what I heard of it, it was magnificent."
"I was there," said professor Vector, "and it was indeed magnificent. Like we all suspected, Lockhart couldn't duel to safe his life – literally, almost – and he was trying to cover up for it by strutting around, acting pompously and pretending that he knew everything. Unfortunately for him, it couldn't cover up the fact that he was quite worthless when it came to duelling, and one well-timed expelliarmus from Severus made Lockhart fly to the other end of the Great Hall."
"That night, Severus was very popular in the staffroom," Flitwick concluded the story.
"I can imagine that," Remus said smiling. He cleaned his plate and sat back, looking at the students. The feast had just ended, after a demonstration of formation gliding by the ghost of Hogwarts, and a re-enactment of his own beheading by Sir Nicholas, the ghost of Gryffindor house.
"Well," said Flitwick, cleaning his mouth with his napkin, "as enjoyable as your company is, I'm afraid I must be going. Remus, dearest professor Vector, I bid you both a good night." The small wizard hopped of his seat and disappeared out of sight.
Remus said goodnight to professor Vector and started making his way through the students, who were slowly flooding out of the Great Hall. Malfoy caused a moment of hilarity among the Slytherins for yelling "the Dementors send their love, Potter!" to Harry, but he was ignored by the black-haired boy and his friends.
Remus, lost in thoughts, barely noticed the students around him. He was thinking about what he had heard that evening, about the Snape-Lockhart duel. Remus had always seen Snape as the person he appeared to be – mean, sarcastic, hostile – and he had never bothered to show some more interest in the man. He had never cared to find out if the Potions Master happened to have any good qualities. Not that Snape really encouraged such efforts, but still…
It goes to far to say that I'm starting to like Snape, he thought. But maybe… seeing him in another light? Maybe I did him wrong… at least I never gave him a chance, that is for sure!
He left the crowd and climbed the stairs to the third floor, to his chambers. Before he was even halfway there, he heard someone walking fast behind him, feet quickly on the ground, breathing in panting gasps. Remus turned around and saw, much to his surprise, Minerva McGonagall. She looked distressed and agitated. "Remus," she said, and barely stopped walking. "Come quickly. We need you – " she stopped to gasp for breath " – something has happened. Gryffindor tower – hurry."
She needn't tell him twice. He was running almost before he realised it. McGonagall had turned on the spot and was following in his footsteps. While he rounded a few corners (so fast that he almost walked right into them) and practically jumped off two staircases, his mind was working overtime.
What is going on? They need me – they need a Defence Against the Dark Arts expert – Gryffindor tower, what has happened in Gryffindor tower, to Gryffindor tower, to someone in Gryffindor tower, Harry?! Harry, Harry, Sirius, can't be here, Dementors, but what then?
He rounded another corner and found himself in the corridor leading towards the Fat Lady, the portrait that concealed the entrance to the Gryffindor common room. McGonagall and Remus caught up with Snape, who was coming from another corridor (almost scaring the living daylights out of Remus, because he appeared so suddenly). He had obviously been warned by someone else, and the three of them hurried towards the large group of Gryffindor students gathered around professor Dumbledore. The Headmaster was looking at the painting of the Fat Lady, or at least, at that what should have been a painting. Remus gasped when he saw what had happened to her; the canvas of the painting had been shredded with a knife or something. Large pieces of the canvas were lying on the ground, and Remus could see the common room through the huge gaps in the painting.
"We need to find her," said Dumbledore, turning towards the three professors. There wasn't a hint of panic in his voice. He sounded completely in control. "Professor McGonagall, please go to Mr. Filch at once and tell him to search every painting in the castle for the Fat Lady." McGonagall nodded and left immediately.
"You'll be lucky!" said a cackling voice. Remus turned around to see who had spoken. He saw Peeves the Poltergeist floating above the crowd. The Poltergeist's face was twisted with malicious delight, something that one could expect from him.
"What do you mean, Peeves?" said Dumbledore calmly. Peeves' face fell a little. Even he respected Dumbledore, so he tried to act less like his annoying self. "Ashamed, Your Headship, sir," he said, bowing. "Doesn't want to be seen. She's a horrible mess." His grin re-appeared. "Saw her running through the landscape up on the fourth floor, sir, dodging between the trees. Crying something dreadful," he said cheerfully. He couldn't conceal his smile. "Poor thing," he added unconvincingly, trying to act as if he felt sorry.
"Did she say who did it?" said Dumbledore calmly.
"Oh yes, Professorhead," said Peeves, his smile almost too large for his face. Remus got the feeling that what he was going to say next, was the best – or worst, actually – of the whole case.
"He got very angry when she wouldn't let him in, you see," Peeves continued. He flipped over and looked at Dumbledore from between his legs, grinning. "Nasty temper he's got, that Sirius Black."
Remus felt as if he had been stabbed in the back. He could almost feel Snape´s eyes flash towards him, and he had the paranoid suspicion that the whispering of the students around him was only gossip about their teacher. Sirius, it was Sirius… it pounded through his head. He barely heard Dumbledore tell Percy Weasley to guide the Gryffindor students back to the Great Hall.
"Well, gentlemen," the Headmaster said. "We must act quickly. Black may still be in the castle. Severus, will you please warn Filius, and then go and search the dungeons. And if you encounter Black; just stun him. The Ministry hasn't given any permission to kill him." Snape nodded shortly and left, leaving Remus and Dumbledore alone. Remus was still staring numbly at the ruined painting. He suddenly realised how naive he had been for thinking that Sirius couldn't get into Hogwarts, just because of the Dementors. Sirius was able to change into a dog – and he was clearly also raving mad. He was capable of anything, he had proved that exactly twelve years ago. With a feeling of nausea, Remus realised that it had been Halloween, that night when James and Lily had been murdered. Had Sirius known that, and had he thought it a proper date for their son to die?
"Remus," Dumbledore said loudly. The younger man woke up from his musings. Dumbledore smiled, but there was no twinkle in his eyes.
"Yes, professor?" Remus said.
"I must ask you," Dumbledore said. "I do trust you, and I know you have nothing to do with this. But do you know, do you have any idea how Sirius could've sneaked into the castle?"
Remus looked around him, at the shredded painting and the deserted corridor. Then he turned back to Dumbledore.
"No sir, absolutely not."
Dumbledore nodded. "I see. Now, could you please search the third floor corridor? And kindly also check all the passage ways you were familiar with in your schooldays. You must know the castle as well as Sirius does, we must use that as an advantage."
Remus nodded and walked away, heading for the third floor. Inside, he felt a sting of guilt and a almost a physical feeling of disgust. He disgusted himself because he couldn't tell Dumbledore what he knew about Sirius. He had let down the man who had put so much trust in him, had done so much for him, and Remus hated himself for it.
