I wrote a story in which I explaimed the Arithmancy. It's on this site, just check my profile.
For those really interested: you can hear "Claire de lune" (moonlight) by Claude Debussy in the film Seven Years In Tibet. Extra bonus: the film also stars David Thewlis, aka Remus!
New chapter!
December 1993.
"But where is dear Professor Lupin?"
"I'm afraid the poor fellow is ill again," said Dumbledore, indicating that everybody should start serving themselves. "Most unfortunate that it should happen on Christmas Day."
'Buy your Christmas presents here!' Bright red letters on a huge white board invited cold Christmas-shoppers inside. The store windows were brightly lit and packed with all kinds of presents one would want to buy. Remus was looking at an enchanted Christmas tree with little fairies in it, glowing wands in their hands. He had his own hands shoved in his pockets and his right hand was clutching a small leather bag with coins, his salary of the past months. He had come down to Hogsmeade to do some Christmas shopping, to buy presents for his parents, his brother, his sister-in-law and his little niece, and it felt good to finally have at least a reasonable amount of money to spent. He had to be careful not to spent it all at once, really.
A bunch of small copper bells chimed when he opened the door and got inside the warm shop. There were three or four more customers, and Remus took the time to look around. He had been given a wish-list, but he took more delight in giving surprise-presents. It took more energy to find the right gift, but if you found the right thing, exactly that present that person wanted without knowing it, it would be appreciated more than when you gave something that person had asked for and was more or less expecting to get.
He looked around for a few minutes. He had already bought something for his parents and his brother Romulus, now he only needed something for Julia, Romulus' wife, and their daughter Thirza. He wandered to a corner of the shop, in which various musicboxes were displayed. He tried out some of them, taking childish delight in opening and closing them, opening them all at once and hear them tinkling their melodies through the others'.
"May I help you?"
He turned around abruptly. A sophisticated-looking woman, dressed in black robes and with silver hair, was looking at him with a stern but amused expression. Remus suddenly had the feeling that he hadn't been the first to play with the musicboxes.
"Yes, I´d like this one please." He picked up a night-blue musicbox which tinkled Debussy's 'Clair de Lune' when you opened it. He handed it over to the woman, who gave a short smile and turned to the counter to wrap it.
"Merry Christmas," she said when she gave it to him, neatly wrapped in gold-coloured paper.
"Thank you. And a merry Christmas to you too!"
~*~
Jingle bells, jingle bells, jingle all the way… Remus whistled the old, familiar Christmas-song while he walked through the main street of Hogsmeade. It was the last Hogsmeade-weekend for the students before they went home for Christmas, and the streets and shops were crowded with people doing their last shopping.
"Remus!" Hagrid´s loud voice suddenly called out. Remus looked up and saw the huge man approach him. A bit to Remus' surprise, he saw professor McGonagall and Flitwick follow Hagrid in his footsteps. There was also a man in a pinstriped cloak, who looked vaguely familiar…
"What are you doing here?" Remus asked Hagrid when the latter had reached him.
"Ah, yer know, bit visiting Hogsmeade, an we're going down ter the pub for a drink," Hagrid explained. The other three had caught up with him. McGonagall stood shivering in her cloak, and Remus smiled encouragingly at her.
"Remus, may I introduce you to Cornelius Fudge, the minister of Magic," she said somewhat officially. Remus suddenly knew where he knew the man in the pinstripes from: the Daily Prophet.
It was obvious that the shorter man was freezing and that he wanted nothing more than get inside and warm himself. He extended a gloved hand. "How do you do?"
"Remus Lupin," Remus introduced himself, shifting one of his packages under his left arm and shaking Fudge's hand. "I teach Defence Against the Dark Arts at Hogwarts."
"And pretty good too, if ye ask me!" Hagrid patted Remus' back. Remus almost lost his balance.
"But what brings you here, Minister?" he asked when he'd recovered.
"I'm dining with the Headmaster tonight," Fudge announced pompously. "But when I arrived at Hogwarts this afternoon, it appeared that he was already occupied. Professor McGonagall kindly offered to take me to Hogsmeade for a Butterbeer in the Three Broomsticks. And who am I to resist?"
Remus looked at McGonagall, and the look on her face gave him the faint suspicion that it had also been to keep Fudge away from Hogwarts and keep him occupied before he started to get his nose into other people's business, especially Dumbledore´s business.
"Why don't you come with us, Remus?" piped small professor Flitwick. "I'm sure they have a seat for you!"
"Oh, that's a really kind offer," Remus answered, "but I'm afraid I must decline. I have so much to do before Christmas… I have all these presents to sent – " he meaningfully lifted his two bags with presents. He really was sorry. The Marauder in him would've loved to see Fudge chat with a werewolf over some Butterbeer.
"Shall we go on?" McGonagall suggested, her shoulders drawn up to emphasise how cold she felt.
"Yes, that's good," agree Flitwick. "Remus, I´ll see you at Hogwarts."
"Have a nice afternoon," Remus said to the four of them, and he watched them go inside the Three Broomsticks before continuing his way to Hogwarts.
He didn't see the black dog wading through the snow, carrying a newspaper in its mouth…
~*~
The barn owl spread its wings majestically and took off, soundlessly, flying away through the already darkening sky. Remus looked after the owl until it had disappeared out of sight, then he picked up his cloak from the floor of the owlery and left.
The corridors of Hogwarts were deserted, which wasn't really surprising as most of the students had gone home for the holidays and it was freezing cold. Remus drew up his shoulders and walked a little faster, eager to go to his office and his fire. He had just posted his Christmas presents, and he had actually nothing left to do, which was a fantastic feeling. Pity really that it was a full moon tonight, exactly at Christmas. It mean that he would be missing all the good fun of a Christmas at Hogwarts: the twelve Christmas trees, the magnificent feast, waking up and finding a pile of presents at the end of your bed… of course, he would still have the presents, but with nearly every nerve on end, he wouldn't appreciate it as much as he normally would have.
He was near his chambers when he heard something he had never heard before – a soft tinkling, a rushing sound, footsteps… He stood still and his hand unconsciously went to his wand. Various possibilities of what – of who – it could be went through his head, starting and ending with Sirius, with very few people in-between.
The footsteps grew louder and suddenly a woman appeared above a stone staircase. Her bangles glittered in the light of the torches and she drew her shawl tighter around her shoulders before descending the stairs, a dreamy expression on her face.
Remus almost thought the woman beautiful and elegant, when he recognised her as Sibyll Trelawney.
When she got near, he noticed that the tinkling and clicking came from her bangles, and the rustling from the train of her dress which slithered over the floor. When she noticed someone standing in the corridor, she pushed her huge glasses higher on her nose, recognised Remus, and a delighted expression appeared on her face. She almost let out a squeal of delight.
"Dear professor Lupin!" she exclaimed. "I had already expected to see you here!"
Remus' chambers were about four yards from where they were standing…
"Really? I didn't," said Remus. "What a… pleasant surprise…"
"My crystal ball told me that I would be meeting someone near the quarters of the staff, so I wasn't surprised at all," she told him, fidgeting with the lace on her shawl.
"How fascinating," he said, totally not impressed. 'Near the quarters of the staff' was a pretty vague description. It was hardly difficult to meet someone in the corridors.
"I know," she said, totally oblivious of his disinterest. "It is my favourite form of Divination. It is so accurate… would you like me to consult it for you?" she suddenly suggested. "I can predict your future, if you'd like."
"No!" Remus knew he was being harsh, but this was really the last thing he wanted. "No thank you… really nice that you offered, but no, not really. I uhm… must be going now."
"Or I could read your palm," she said while he was backing away. "Or tealeaves, I'm good at that too… perhaps a horoscope?"
He shut the door in her face and leaned against it. After a few moments he heard her leave and he let out a sigh of relief. Reading his palm; even worse than crystal gazing. He didn't dare think of what she would say when she'd notice the obvious signs of Lycantropy. He had planned his stay here at Hogwarts as a little longer than a few months, so a gossiping Divination teacher spilling his secret – well, secret identity really, was the last thing he needed.
He turned around and immediately noticed that someone had been in his office; a goblet with Wolfsbane Potion was on his desk. Snape.
Well, that's one way to keep this Christmas peaceful, he thought as he picked it up. Without further hesitating or even stopping to smell the potion, he swallowed it all in two gulps. He pulled a few faces and shivered. Glad that's over with for another month...
~*~
When Remus woke up in the afternoon of the next day, he saw a large group of colourful butterflies fluttering just below the ceiling. He was still drowsy from the sleeping potion he had taken that morning to ease the pain of the transformation, and he rolled on his back and admired the winged creatures. He didn't feel surprised at all to see them here, even though Christmas was hardly the time for butterflies. Actually, he felt surprised that he didn't feel surprised.
He was just thinking about that, when he felt something move beside him. He turned his head and wasn't surprised at all to see her looking at him again with her blue eyes.
"Not you again," he muttered.
"And a good morning to you too," she said indignantly. "Aren't you happy to see me?"
"Actually, no. Because you're just an image of my imagination, brought to life by the opium from the poppy that is used in the Wolfsbane Potion to kill the pain."
"They are too," she said, pointing at the butterflies.
"I know." He went back to admiring the butterflies. The rays of the setting sun streamed through the windows and bathed them in an almost unearthly light. It was beautiful.
"It's Christmas today," he said to no one in particular. He smiled lazily, feeling completely happy. The girl next to him had now silenced and seemed to have disappeared. Unfortunately, the cloud of butterflies also got vaguer, seemed to vanish like a wisp of fog. Remus tried to let them stay with sheer will-power, but to no avail. They disappeared together with the last light of the sun.
He was still mourning their departure when he became aware of someone tapping on his door. He fell out of his bed (okay, maybe not literally) and walked – still a bit drowsy – to the door. He pulled it open and in that split second between having opened it and seeing who it was, he realised he wasn't exactly wearing anything.
Remus slammed the door shut, right in the face of a very surprised professor McGonagall.
"Shit," he cursed, running through the room in a frantic search for something to wear. "Shit, shit, shit." He finally stumbled upon the clothes he had worn the day before, and he hastily put them on.
"I'm so sorry," he immediately apologised when he opened the door again. "I'm mean, I just got out of bed and – "
"Weren't exactly yourself?" she said, both her eyebrows raised.
"Something like that." Remus ran a hand through his hair. It felt filthy, and he realised how bad he undoubtedly looked. "What's the matter?"
"Well," McGonagall said, pursing her lips. "It appeared that Mr Potter got quite an interesting present for Christmas."
"Really?" he said, not really interested. Talking about Harry was fine, but not right now. "What was it?"
"A Firebolt," she said. This did catch his attention.
"A what?!"
"A Firebolt. One of the most expensive racing brooms."
"I know," Remus said, wondering what this had to do with him. "Fantastic! I bet he is all excitement about it. Has he tried it yet?"
"No," McGonagall replied. "And that is why I need your help, as an expert of the Dark Arts. Harry hasn't yet tried his new broom because I suspect, and others do as well, that it was send by Sirius Black. And if he did send it, he most probably hexed the broom."
~*~
"Are you sure Black's mad?" was Remus' first reaction when he saw the Firebolt. The broom was magnificent, the dream of anyone who played Quidditch. It hung in mid-air, vibrating softly as if eager to fly away at top-speed. Sirius had at least enough sense left to buy this beauty…
"Remus Lupin!" barked McGonagall. She scared the hell out of Remus, who suddenly felt like a first-year caught out-of-bounds again. "Would you please keep your inappropriate remarks to yourself! This is serious."
"Yes ma'am," he stuttered without really realising what he was saying. "Uhm, what are we going to do with it, actually?"
"We're going to strip it down to see if there are any hexes or jinxes on it," she said irritatedly, taking her wand. "Filius?"
Remus now noticed that tiny professor Flitwick was standing on a chair near a table with spellbooks. He also had his wand in his hand, and he looked more serious than he usually did. "Yes," he said with his squeaky voice. "I suggest that we start with the more common hexes, such as – " he leafed through one of the books " – the unbalancing spell. Easy to cast but deadly when a broom looses its balance when it is fifty feet above the ground."
"Right," McGonagall agreed. She raised her wand. "Let's get started then."
And the three of them got to work, to strip the Firebolt down, down to the last twig.
