Thank you very much to everyone who has reviewed this piece! You really keep me going. Just to keep you updated, a moment with Lily at age nineteen will be next.
"No one can make you feel inferior without your permission."
Eleanor Roosevelt
Random Acts
"Year Sixteen"
"So you see, class, the dark creature is, by its very nature, inherently deviant even when it exists in a dual state, as in the werewolf. Evil is…
Mr. Malfoy…ahem….pay attention, please….thank you…
As I was saying, evil is at the core of the dark creature's personality and, as such, it will always dominate or…supersede, as it were, the more humane half, if indeed, the humane half is still evident in the dark creature's personality at all.
Now…..due to intensive psychiatric research on the subject, scientists now know that the magic at work within dark creatures manifests itself in a form akin to human mental illness and, therefore, it affects every aspect of their consciousness. As such, it is impossible to expect them to function in normal society."
While Professor Rookwood wrapped up Monday's Defense Against the Dark Arts class with some less than astute conclusions, Remus sat in the front row swallowing his hurt and anger, the blood in his face pounding in his ears and behind his eyes. Professor Rookwood's voice sounded like a far-off echo of an ugly truth, like someone delivering horrific news he couldn't register. He couldn't breathe anymore, couldn't think.
Why is he doing this…
"Because of this, integration into magical job forces or school systems is not recommended by The Ministry. And to safeguard the population, it has been recently recommended that dark creatures attempting to maintain some involvement in regular society be registered, permanently tagged, or sequestered to help curb endangerment of the innocent. Hopefully, legislation enacting these principles will come to pass soon."
When the tower bell rang, Remus wasn't sure if the sound was real or just part of his reeling mind struggling to come to terms with what he just heard from Rookwood's mouth.
Rookwood's big fat mouth…
"Oh! My, class went quickly today. Be sure to read Adolphus Macnair's essay on the dark creature attacks of the Middle Ages and Madagar Snape's treatise - 'Neurological Deviations in Logic and Rationale in the Dark Creature.' That will be all!"
An hour later, Remus slumped under a tree, studying the words on the open book in front of him as if they were symbols of a foreign tongue, observing the texture of the paper and the way and shadows and sunlight brought out its texture, how the wind erratically rippled the far corner now and then.
Deviant mind…
For the first time this term, he was glad that James and Sirius didn't have DADA class with him. Peter was in the same class but didn't seem to remotely register the lesson today. Or else he pretended such as he walked out with Remus, discussing the finer merits of the newest brand of sugar quills.
Dark in every aspect of consciousness…
Suddenly, Sirius came from out of nowhere and flopped down on his legs like a sack of potatoes.
"Sickle for your thoughts, Moony?"
"I'm not thinking, I'm reading."
"You're pretending to read while you're thinking. Your brow bunches up like that when you're lost in thought, kid. Hate to blow your cover."
When Sirius poked at the furrow, Remus batted the finger away and Sirius rolled over on his back and blew a bubble with a double dose of Drooble's Best Blowing Gum.
"You want some gum?"
"I want a ton of gum, yes."
Sirius pulled the bag out of his pocket and threw it to Remus, who caught it one-handed when it fell against his chest.
"What's wrong?"
"Nothing."
Sirius cocked his eyebrow at him, showing he didn't buy it.
"Everything…everything's wrong."
"Wanna talk or are you in one of your 'let me work this out for myself' moods."
"I'm…I need to walk…and think. Don't follow me, okay?"
"Okay."
"Thanks for the gum, mate."
Remus returned the gum bag minus three pieces, slung the heavy bookbag over his shoulder and trudged away from the school, head down and carefully minding his steps. He could feel Sirius' eyes on his back and felt bad for not telling him what had happened in class. But he couldn't talk about it yet. It was..too embarrassing, really.
Hours passed.
Darkness fell.
A taste of firewhiskey, running down his throat.
His brain churning.
Remus rolled around mentally in a mind full of words. Not just words. Weapons. So powerful, so precarious in their choice. Words from Rookwood's mouth that painted him as an evil entity, to be controlled and possibly destroyed. Even worse, the words jabbed at his consciousness, telling some part of him that his professor was right, that he was no good.
But everything his parents and Dumbledore and his life had taught him fought against the self-loathing that occasionally reverberated in the back of his mind, especially during times like these.
Early on, Remus learned the dangers of being a grey soul in a society obsessed with the convenient organization of darkness and light. Dark and light were easy. They required little thought and created the comfort of structure and shared opinion.
He understood structure – the need for it, the desperation for it. Merlin, he wrote the book on structure. But sometimes, it didn't exist. Couldn't exist. And it was there that he found beauty and sometimes truth. In enigmas. In things that were more than they appeared. In people, who, to him, were oftentimes complicated and beautiful in their own way.
And it was Dumbledore who taught him to appreciate differences, to think rationally about the indefinable and to study things before drawing conclusions. It wasn't the easy way. But it was the better way – understanding the layers that people had.
He drained the last swallow of firewhiskey bottle as he sat on the dirty floor of the Shrieking Shack, the dust matted down in places with dried crusts of blood and fragments of animal hair. He ran a long finger absentmindedly over a deep scratch embedded into the wall then focused on a similarly shaped scar running across his palm.
"Moony?" Sirius stood on the edge of the stairs, peering at him hopefully with the marauder map folded in his lowered hand.
"You've been in here for three hours. Curfew began almost an hour ago…not that we care about curfew." he added with a grin.
"So you waited until lights out to come and get me?"
"Might as well make it more interesting."
He sat beside Remus and James fell in by his other slumped shoulder. He hadn't realized the chill that shrouded the shack after sundown until their body heat fell on either side of him.
"I didn't realize it was so late….just had some things to think about."
"And drink about?" James held up the empty bottle and Remus grinned and looked at Potter sheepishly. "Did this come from our secret stash under the shack floorboards?"
"Yeah. I'll replace it."
James nudged Remus with his shoulder and smiled.
"No need, mate. That's what it's for. Emergencies."
"Peter told us about what Rookwood said in class today," Sirius said immediately. "It took him a few hours to realize you must have been upset after hearing our enlightened professor tell the entire class that werewolves were slavering murderous monsters 24/7 and all."
"He just figured that out?"
"Peter's not the brightest star in the sky, you know. Why do you give a rat's ass what old Rock Woody thinks anyway?" James said, almost angrily.
"It's not just what he thinks, James. He's teaching this to everyone. He'll help determine what all our classmates think about people like me for the rest of their lives."
"Yeah, but he's still a stupid git. Not everyone's gonna listen to him."
"Many will…..but I won't. I'm going to go talk to him." Remus made to get up and Sirius looked panicked, a rare look for him.
"What, now? Right now?"
"Right now."
"Can't stop you?" James called out.
"Nope."
Sirius and James watched Remus totter carefully down the stairs, and Potter made to get up and go after him, but Sirius stopped him with a sudden hand.
"No, let him go, mate. He has to do this. Might as well be now so he can sleep tonight."
Then Black narrowed his eyes as the seed of pure wanton destruction took plant in his mind.
"I'm sure there are….things….we can do, Messr. Prongs, that don't involve discussion."
And James let out a low chuckle and nodded his head, the cogs already turning.
Before Remus even had a chance to acknowledge that his body was moving through the dark and empty hallways, he found himself in front of Professor Rookwood's study and knocked.
A distracted "yes" came from the room and Remus pushed the door open to find Rookwood huddled over his desk, quill scratching at the papers in front of him. He looked up briefly then back down again without bothering to stop his grading.
"Yes, Mr. Lupin. What is it."
He stopped suddenly and checked his watch before returning to his papers.
"I believe it's after curfew and you're out of bed…without permission, I daresay."
"Yes, Professor. Can I ask you some questions?"
"Yes, you may. Then off to bed with you."
"I don't expect long answers."
Rookwood looked up at that, gauging Remus over his half-moon frames a moment before sighing and leaning back in his chair a bit, folding his hands across his plump stomach.
"….Alright."
"Am I a good student?"
"Yes, you are."
"I turned in my assignments on time? Get good grades? Put forth an effort?"
"Always."
"Have I helped you, in the past, with your personal work by staying after class and doing things for you, even if they didn't provide me with extra credit?"
"Many times, actually."
"Am I an intelligent human being?"
"Yes. You're very bright."
"From a teacher's perspective, do you think I have fellow classmates who value me as a friend?"
"I'm not sure I agree with your taste in friends, but I'd say that you do."
"Knowing me to the extent that you do, would you call me a good person?"
"Yes, Mr. Lupin, I would."
"Am I a werewolf, Professor Rookwood?"
Rookwood leaned forward and gauged Remus more seriously than he had before.
"Mr. Lupin….ahem….I teach what the Ministry's educational agency sets forth as the guidelines for what should be taught to our youth and in what manner. What I covered today is the approved theory on dark creatures and their integration into our society. It is my job to teach what I'm told."
"Professor Rookwood, your teaching strategies, however party line they may be, are your own. I'm just asking: am I a werewolf?"
"According to Professor Dumbledore, yes. You are."
"So I'm a good student, a good friend, a fastidious learner, an intelligent human being, and a werewolf. What is my most defining characteristic?"
With a nonplussed, almost neutral expression, Rookwood remained silent and ran a thumb across the large signet ring on his index finger.
"From what you said in class today, none of those other things matter. I'm a werewolf, first and foremost. Unable to escape from my darkness."
When Rookwood just continued to look at him evenly, Remus walked carefully and not too straightly to a chair and sat across from him, picked up the crystal ball from his desk, held it pensively in his hands for a moment before carefully placing it back in its cradle.
"Professor, there is blackness in this world destitute of all hope for salvation. But, all things considered, there is very little of it. And where it exists, it should be destroyed. But there is no pure light, only those who strive for it, every day of their lives, and often fail…I am many things. None of them more than the other. I can't cure my Lycanthropy, but I can choose to be equally human. And I do. Every day….. Don't paint me black, Professor Rookwood. I'm….I'm grey. Just like everything else in this world that's decent in one way or another."
"Mr. Lupin….have you been drinking tonight?"
"Yes sir."
"I thought so. You're an eloquent drunk, I must say."
"Thank you."
"Twenty points from Gryffindor for possessing a forbidden substance on school grounds. I don't have the alcohol in hand, but your demeanor and your admission are evidence enough that some has been consumed. And another twenty points from Gryffindor as curfew occurred nearly an hour ago, and you should be tucked in your four poster as we speak. Do you need an escort back to your room?"
"No."
"Then good night, Mr. Lupin."
When Remus pushed open the door to their room, he could already hear Peter's muffled snoring but Sirius and James' silhouettes were visible in the window's moonlight as they hastily put things away.
"Getting rid of incriminating evidence?" he said, surprised to find a grin playing across his face.
Sirius conjured a small ball of flame in his hand that flared and lit up the practically demonic joy emanating from him.
"If you only knew. So you talked to him?"
"I tried."
"And?"
"He's a pathetic old git, basically."
"Well, we expected as much. Don't worry mate, while you were in there keeping him occupied, we exacted some true revenge."
Remus flopped down on the bed, suddenly tired beyond belief.
"Revenge?"
James pulled off his shirt and said, with his most grown-up, formal voice.
"Oh, you know, the usual mature solutions to big problems. Dung bombs in his bed, bogey ball grenades in his butter beer stash, infinite itching powder in his underwear drawer. And despite being one of the ugliest people I've ever known, he's also one of the vainest. So puss boil spells in his beauty bar seemed like an obvious choice."
"And that's just the first wave." Sirius said with a grin and collapsed on Remus' bed. After a moment of consideration, he added sagely, "I have to say, that's the most damage we've managed to wreak in such a short period of time. He'll be finding little surprises the entire term. And being the beacon of knowledge that he is, I'm sure he has no idea how to decontaminate the place properly…..But, mostly importantly, he's vain enough to hide in his room for the rest of the week if he uses that soap. And if McGonagall subs for him, she won't be finishing up that lesson with the same kind of remarks, I can tell you that."
Remus mused about McGonagall possibly saving the lesson with a voice of reason….then pictured Rookwood picking up his soap bar in the morning, with disastrous results.
"Rookwood covered in giant zits and itching his arse raw tomorrow…." Remus let out a huge laugh. "I should feel guilty about it, but Merlin…all I can say is 'job well done'."
"Don't mention it, Moony." Potter said as he climbed into bed. "Believe me, it was our pleasure."
Sirius ruffled his hair as he got up, and Remus was surprised to see a flicker of deep-seated anger in his eyes when he said, lowly and adamantly, "No one hurts my friends and gets away with it."
And Remus, emotionally exhausted and slightly drunk, stood up to hook an arm around Sirius to hug him close.
Where would I be without them…
"I see you were studying dark creatures. I also see the notes that Professor Rookwood had for this lesson and feel that I should add a few remarks to even out any damage he might have wreaked.
Despite what your current DADA professor may have told you, numerous werewolves and other dark creatures live amongst us with few problems. They are, in many respects, simply our fellow wizards and witches. And the fact that they live amongst us and we may not know them as such shows there is far more to them than the darkness that you've been warned against.
We all have the propensity for being dangerous creatures, do we not? Remember that the next time you're quick to throw stones without evidence."
Minerva went on with the rest of her lesson but gave Remus the briefest of glances as he left the classroom, and his sincere eyes bespoke his gratefulness.
He would learn later that there were times to walk away from prejudice and times to stand up to it, each instance exacting its own price for acknowledgement or withdraw.
But all Remus really wanted from life was to accept and to be accepted. He didn't deny his darkness. He just wanted people to see light within him and acknowledge that he could rise above the creature that clutched at his very soul.
Meanwhile, he dealt with the same inner wars that everyone else did. He merely had to fight harder. And fighting harder made him stronger. In years to come, when the darkness encroached ever-so-closer on their world and time could no longer tether Voldemort's return, Remus would come to depend on that strength. And so would many who loved him.
Who would guess that a shabby, out-of-work werewolf would provide the glue that bound The Order of the Phoenix together? But it did. Quite aptly. And Rookwood, an ardent Deatheater in his later years, found it interesting, as well.
tbc