Harry Potter and The Prisoner of Azkaban Timeline
"I Hold the Moon"
ooo
"The power of a glance has been so much abused in love stories, that it has come to be disbelieved in.
Few people dare now to say that two beings have fallen in love because they have looked at each other.
Yet it is in this way that love begins, and in this way only."
- Les Misérables, Victor Hugo
BOOKS AND TEA LEAVES
Right on schedule, Nora bolted awake with a start.
She was shivering violently even though her body was feverishly hot and her shirt was plastered to her back with sweat. Her heart rang loudly in her ears, throbbed painfully in her chest. Air was leaving her lungs in harsh, frantic breaths. Hiding her face in her hands, Nora forced herself to focus on the sound of the clock on her bedside table — tick tock, tick tock. She counted each stroke like a mantra. Counted until her breathing matched the steady rhythm and her pulse began to slow down.
When Ophelia rubbed the top of her head against her knuckles, Nora grabbed her and hugged her hard against her chest. It was morning already, but very early. The sky seemed to have cleared during the night and pale sunlight was streaming through the windows, soft and shimmery.
Her roommates were still sound asleep. Careful not to disturb them, Nora tiptoed into the bathroom. She took her time in the shower, letting warm water wash away the sweat off her hair and skin, the tension from her body. She put on her school uniform, clasped her mother's locket around her neck, then applied some makeup, mostly to cover up the purple bruising on her cheek.
Back in the room, as she quietly prepared her bag, her eyes fell over the cloak folded on her bed. Nora picked it up, feeling heat creep to her cheeks. She brought it to her nose, taking a deep breath and committing the smell to memory. Her body reacted immediately, a thousand butterflies fluttering wildly inside her stomach.
I'm being silly, she then thought, and with a huff shoved the cloak in her bag and left the room.
The Great Hall was empty save for a few scattered early birds. Nora easily found a seat at the Ravenclaw table, grabbed some toast and filled her goblet with freshly squeezed orange juice. She pulled out her book to read while she ate.
"Good morning, Evanora," Professor Flitwick greeted brightly just as she was turning her page.
Filius Flitwick was a short fellow with dark hair and pointy ears. He was the head of Ravenclaw and a brilliant wizard. A kind one too, who cared for his students like a parent cares for their children. To Nora, his smile was as bright and warm as the sun.
"Good morning, professor."
"Early as ever, I see. And here's your timetable..." Flitwick pulled out from his navy robes a piece of paper. "I must say, I'm very impressed by your selection of NEWT's. I expected no less from my most promising pupil."
Nora laughed, flattered by all the praise, "Thanks, sir. I do hope I can handle the work."
"Nonsense, you'll do brilliantly!" He patted her fondly on the shoulder before moving along to the next students.
Nora scanned her timetable. Her first class was Defence Against the Dark Arts. Lucky, she thought. She could give back the cloak right away and also see what Lupin was like as a teacher. His predecessors had set the bar excruciatingly low. But she could tell he was different. She'd gotten a very good first impression of him.
After nibbling halfheartedly on a second piece of toast while waiting around for her friends to come down, she figured they could meet her in class.
Defence Against the Dark Arts was on the third floor. The door was unlocked and it was empty when Nora peered inside so she made herself at home in her usual table, leaving the seat beside her to whichever of her friends arrived first. Another door to the right squeaked open as she was getting deeply immersed in her book, and Professor Lupin walked in, heading went straight to his desk where he set down a leather briefcase. It took him a moment to notice her presence.
"Miss Cavanaugh?" Surprised, he made his way over to her while checking his watch. "You're very early. Class doesn't start until eight."
"I know. I'm usually early to first period," Nora explained.
He was wearing an old brown suit, fraying at the sleeves, his shoes had clearly seen better days, and his tie was askew. She'd heard some of her house mates call Lupin shabby at the feast, but she thought he looked homey and warm. Like a man who had lived a long and hard life.
"I have something for you…" Nora grabbed her bag just as he sat on the edge of the desk across from her, hands casually tucked inside the front pockets of his faded pants. She pulled out the neatly folded cloak and handed it to him. "Thanks again, it kept me very warm."
"It did its job then." Professor Lupin took the cloak and set it on the desk behind him. The corners of his eyes crinkled when he smiled. Flustered, Nora cast her gaze to the side. Trying to put her at ease, he tilted his head toward her novel. "I see you're reading Persuasion. Are you a fan of Jane Austen?"
"Yes," Nora said quickly, then thought better of it. "Well, I love muggle literature in general, but I am partial to Jane Austen. I've read most of her work."
Her answer brought another smile to Lupin's face, a very boyish and jovial smile. Her heart skipped a beat. He was rather handsome for an older gentleman. In fact, when he smiled like that, he didn't even look old at all.
"What do you think of Persuasion? If I may ask."
"I love it. Truly," Nora answered earnestly. "It's my third time reading and I think it gets better every time. There's something very beautiful about the story, about the fact that two people who are destined for each other can part ways, only to meet again years later and still feel the same way. Its wonderful really, how love can endure when it's true…" Growing shy, she dared another look toward Lupin and found him studying her intensely. She blushed, thinking she was talking too much. "I'm sorry. I get excited about books."
"There could have been no two hearts so open, no tastes so similar, no feelings so in unison," Lupin quoted softly. Upon her surprise, he shrugged his shoulders sheepishly. "I get excited about books too."
The man had recited one of Jane Austen's most romantic quotes from memory. Nora was honestly a little in awe. "What else do you like to read?" she asked, eager to know more about him.
"A bit of everything. If I'm being entirely honest, I've spent a small fortune on books," Lupin added with a wince.
"One can never have too many books."
He grinned brightly, "Couldn't have said it better myself. I do have a preference for the classics, though. Hemingway and Dickens are some of my favourites."
"Oh, I read Dickens every Christmas!" Nora's excitement to have found someone to share her passion for muggle literature with was evident in her voice, but Lupin didn't look bothered or annoyed in the least.
"As do I," he said, boyish smile stuck in place. "It's especially comforting to read during that time of year, sitting under a blanket by the fire with hot chocolate."
Nora chuckled, tugging her hair, still damp from her shower, over the shoulder. "What a lovely picture you paint, professor."
"I must say..." Lupin brought his hands from inside his pockets and placed them on the edge of the desk by his sides. "It is most refreshing to meet a young woman who appreciates literature. No one ever takes the time nor has the interest to read anymore."
"Well, I am a Ravenclaw. We do pride ourselves in our wit and intellect," she joked.
"Modesty too, it seems," he teased back.
"Why should I be modest?"
"Indeed you shouldn't." Lupin was fully amused now, his eyes dancing with mirth. "I wonder if your brother shares some of that modesty or if he only inherited all the boldness in your family. He jumped right in front of Harry to protect him from that dementor on the train. It was as remarkable as it was foolish."
Nora smiled fondly. "Tristan's always been like that. Brave and rash, and with very little common sense. I don't really know who he gets it from."
"I couldn't tell you about his rashness, but it isn't hard to see you're plenty brave yourself, or did I not find you searching the train for your brother even though you knew there might be danger lurking around the corner?" Lupin looked down at her warmly. "I think Tristan's incredibly lucky to have such a good role model."
"Please don't say that. You don't really know me, professor," Nora said, suddenly grim as something dark and ugly sprouted to life inside her, something that reminded her of how undeserving she was of Professor Lupin's kind compliment.
He tilted his head sideways, a puzzled frown dancing on his lips. Avoiding his stare, she stared hard at the table out of fear he would read her too easily if he saw her face. Silence fell over the room.
Nora combed her fingers through her wet locks, working on disentangling the knots in her hair, scolding herself for forgetting to do so as soon as she got out of the shower because now was ten times worse. Usually she would cast a quick spell to dry it flat, but she hadn't had the patience that morning. Having woken from a nightmare on her first night back had drained away all the excitement about starting a new school year. Even if she did end up sleeping the whole night, which was an improvement, she still felt tired and lethargic. All she really wanted was to crawl back into her bed.
"You shouldn't be walking around with your hair like that, you know," Professor Lupin said, breaking the silence. "It's begging to catch a cold."
There was some rustling as he pulled out his wand from inside his jacket. He tapped it softly to the crown of her head and a pleasant rush of heat flowed from her scalp down to the base of her neck. Her hair, without a flattening spell or potion, tumbled in thick, loose curls down her shoulders.
"That's better, isn't it?"
"Thanks," Nora mumbled shyly.
A strange spark passed through them when their eyes locked, filling the room with static. She felt her breath catch. His eyes were impossibly green, with only a thin golden ring around the pupil, so deep she felt like she would drown in them if he kept looking at her, like the whole world narrowed down to them.
Whatever spell it was that caught them broke abruptly when the door swung open to let in the first few students. Professor Lupin blinked, glancing briefly toward the door, then at Nora one more time, like he was considering something, before finally going back to his desk. She watched him through stolen glances, taking notice of the neat way he set his notes and how he tugged at his tie, crooking the knot even further. He was nervous, she realised as she tucked her novel back inside her bag and prepared for class. It was oddly endearing.
"There you are!" Emma slid into the vacant seat next to Nora. "Why didn't you wait for us in the common room?"
"Wanted an early start on my day." Nora glanced around. "Where's Julia?"
"She's not taking this exam," Liam answered, taking the desk behind theirs. "Doesn't really need it to play Quidditch professionally, does she?
"She doesn't need any exam, but that doesn't mean she shouldn't take them." Nora turned around, propping her elbow on the back of her chair to look at him. "How did it go last night? Should I prepare for yet another earful from Percy?"
"No, I think you're in the clear. Told him you were about to pass out. He was surprisingly understanding."
"Really?" Nora raised her eyebrows, skeptical. "Percy Weasley, understanding? I find that hard to believe."
"Maybe Clearwater's thoughtfulness is rubbing off on him," Liam suggested.
"Unlikely," she muttered.
He shrugged and reached out to tug on one of her curls with a smile. "You never wear your hair curly at school. It looks nice."
Nora blushed, tucking her hair self-consciously behind her ear. Across the room, she saw Caito pull up a chair next to Andrew Darling, a fellow Chaser on the Quidditch team. Their eyes met briefly before he looked away. She did her best to ignore the sting of hurt as Professor Lupin came to stand in front of the class and cleared his throat.
"Good morning, everyone," he said brightly, hands behind his back. "As you all know, my name is Remus Lupin and I will be teaching Defence Against the Dark Arts to you this year. It has come to my attention that your past teachers did a poor job with the curriculum. In light of your NEWT exams, I believe it's best we review some of it. So, on that note, what topics do you struggle most with?"
A quiet murmur erupted in the room as students looked to each other. Sitting in the first row next to Penelope, Percy raised his hand with much conviction.
"Yes, Mr. Weasley."
"Sir, I think I speak for all of us when I say everything," Percy answered eagerly. There was another round of murmuring. "Up to our fifth year, we did more or less all right, but Professor Quirrell was horrible at teaching practical Defence Against the Dark Arts. And Professor Lockhart was a complete joke. All we ever did in class was read passages from his book. It wasn't even very interesting."
"We can definitely agree on that," Professor Lupin said with an amused smile, prompting some quiet laughs. "Well then, perhaps we should start with offensive spells since you're going to be extensively evaluated on them during your exams."
Emma's hand shot up next. "Will you be holding the duelling club this year as well, sir?"
Lupin tilted his head. Clearly the idea hadn't crossed his mind. He let his gaze rove the room. "Is that something you would be interested in? Participating in a duelling club?"
Several confirmations were uttered.
"Very well," he nodded. "I'll have a word with Professor Dumbledore about it. For now please put away your books and let's push the tables aside. We will begin working on your hex-deflecting skills…"
As Professor Lupin continued to explain the purpose of the exercise, Nora and the rest of the class went about pushing desks to the side.
"I have a good feeling about this one," Emma said in a loud whisper.
"Me too," Nora agreed. "He certainly knows what he's doing."
"It's too soon to tell that," Liam argued. Nora eyed him with a frown.
"Why are you being so harsh to him? He hasn't even done anything to deserve it."
"I'm being fair," Liam said again in the same prickly tone. "We don't really know him yet, do we? I think we should wait and see exactly what he's made of before throwing around praises. Besides, something about him rubs me off wrong."
"Shocker," Emma muttered under her breath, flinching when her brother shot her a glare.
Once the room was cleared, they split into pairs. Since Emma was more socially apt than her brother, she went to get herself a handsome Hufflepuff to work with while Nora paired up with Liam. That suited Nora just fine as she always preferred to practise with Liam anyway. He was much more focused.
They took turns at attacking and defending. Nora kept one eye on Liam's offensive spells and another on Professor Lupin as he wandered around the classroom helping out his students, correcting stances and answering questions. There was no particular reason for it. At least not one she could think of at the top of her head. But even from across the room her eyes were continuously drawn to him.
"Expelliarmus!" Liam shouted.
Instinctively, she raised her wand and deflected the attack. However, because she was distracted, the shield was weak at the edges. Instead of bouncing off, the spell went through and hit a lamp in the ceiling.
Nora tensed when Professor Lupin suddenly came up behind her. "You should hold your wand more firmly. Like this—" He wrapped his hand around hers, guiding it into the proper position. Her heart all but lodged itself in her throat, even if it all lasted no more than a second before he withdrew. "Again, Mr. Crowley."
When Liam attacked, Nora countered the spell with a shield. It held this time and the spell bounced back, sending his wand flying off.
Lupin's face brightened with a warm smile as he looked down at her. "Excellent, Miss Cavanaugh. Brilliant work on nonverbal magic."
A little out of sorts, Nora stared after him. He approached Emma next and whatever she said made him shake his head with a genuine laugh. He wasn't like their other teachers, Nora thought. Something about him was just... different. A good kind of different.
Somehow she managed to peel her eyes away from Lupin right before Liam returned from picking up his wand.
"Teacher's pet," he grumbled.
"Sore loser," Nora tossed back good-naturedly.
"I'll show you the sore loser. Let's switch over!"
She twirled her wand with a smirk. "Like that'll make a difference."
"Ohh, cocky!" Grinning, Liam raised his wand. "I'd forgotten how competitive you were. Come on then, show me what you're made of…"
When Tristan decided to take Divination with his friends, Nora had laughed in his face and told him he was going to regret making that decision. He thought she was being exaggerated and dramatic. Really, he'd said, how bad could it be?
Well... he should've known better than to doubt his sister.
As soon as he stepped inside the attic-like classroom at the very top of the Divination tower, Tristan felt like he'd walked into an ugly, old-fashioned tea shop, crammed full with small round tables, chintz armchairs and fat poufs. Every curtain was drawn and the lamps were draped with dark red scarves, creating a heavy and stifling atmosphere. Something burned in the fireplace where a large copper kettle was heating. Whatever it was gave off a very strong, sickly perfume.
Professor Trelawney was a very thin woman who resembled an insect. Her glasses magnified her eyes to double their size, and she wore a gauzy spangled shawl over her shoulders. Every time she moved, her many beaded necklaces and the metallic bangles on her wrists jingled obnoxiously. Within the first thirty minutes of class, she predicted a possible illness for Neville's grandmother and that a red-haired man was coming after Parvati. Trelawney had also told Lavender that something she'd been dreading for a while would finally take place on the sixteenth of October. Tristan was a bit curious about that last one, but he thought better of asking about it. Personally, he found Lavender terrifying.
"This class is an absolute joke," Hermione whispered while trying to interpret the dried leaves in Tristan's teacup.
"I second that," he whispered back, dropping his chin to the palm of his hand. The heated room and the sickly sweet smell were making him terribly sleepy. "Bet you five galleons she's going to foretell Harry's death next."
"I'm not betting with you. I'd lose anyway," Hermione added dourly under her breath.
Tristan glanced at her sideways with a grin. "Predicting the future already? Maybe you do have the Inner Eye, Mione."
"If I do, then from what I see in your leaves it seems you'll be facing some hard times ahead. Clouds symbolise trouble and tears sorrow, which means whatever it is you'll be facing will bring you great sadness. There's also…" Hermione squinted hard at the teacup. "A wolf? I think that's a wolf, looks like one to me at least… let me check the book..."
The fog clouding his mind lifted as his interest piqued. He scooted closer as she flipped through the pages of Unfogging the Future.
"It's at the top of the cup so it's a good omen… oh!" Hermione brought one hand to her lips, looking at him, her eyes wide.
"What? What is it?" he pressed curiously.
"Nothing," she said, closing the book and dropping the teacup. Tristan picked it up himself. "Don't, Tris, it's silly, remember? It doesn't mean anything."
"Yeah, yeah, I know, but c'mon, what does it say?"
Hermione pursed her lips, hesitating before flipping the book open again. "The wolf," she started, "suggests that you dream of a beautiful and happy home with a devoted family… when at the top of the teacup, it can also mean that this dream of yours might be coming true."
Tristan scowled bitterly at that. "So... some time in the near future my wretched family is going to have a sudden change of heart and we'll all live happily ever after?" He tossed the offending teacup away from him. "You're right, this class really is a joke."
The pity he saw on Hermione's face before she looked away to hide it filled him both with anger and shame. As much as he appreciated his friends for always being there for him, it was at times like these that he understood why Nora didn't talk about things at home. The pitying looks were hard to swallow.
When Professor Trelawney approached Harry and Ron's, who were playing around with their teacups, Tristan elbowed Hermione and nodded his head discreetly toward the insect-like woman. "Here it comes..."
"Let me see that, dear," Trelawney told Ron, snatching Harry's cup from his hands with disapproval. The whole room fell into quiet, expectant silence while she inspected it. "The falcon… oh my dear, you have a deadly enemy…"
"Everyone knows that," Hermione inputted in a loud whisper. Trelawney just stared at her. "Well, they do. Everyone knows about Harry and You-Know-Who."
Tristan snorted into the back of his hand, trying to stifle his laughter. Both Ron and Harry looked at Hermione with a mix of amazement and admiration as she'd never stood up to a teacher before.
Trelawney wasn't quite as impressed. She ignored Hermione by focusing solely on Harry's teacup. "The club… an attack. Dear, dear, this is not a happy cup at all… The skull… danger in your path, oh dear…"
Everyone was staring, transfixed, as Professor Trelawney rotated the cup clockwise and made her predictions. Suddenly, she gave a small gasp, then screamed. Somewhere in the room, there was a crash as Neville smashed his second cup.
"Oh my dear boy…" Trelawney sank into a vacant armchair, bony hand over her heart. "My poor, dear boy… no, it is kinder not to say… no, don't ask me…"
"No one's asking," Tristan muttered to Hermione, who fixed him with a half amused, half admonishing stare.
"What is it, professor?" Dean asked at once.
"Damn, spoke too soon..." Tristan muttered again, grinning toothily when Hermione blurted a laugh.
Meanwhile the whole class seemed to have taken Professor Trelawney's reaction as an invitation to crowd around Harry and Ron's small table. Everyone was pressing close to the woman and trying to have a good look at Harry's teacup.
"My dear..." Professor Trewlaney's large eyes opened dramatically. "You have the Grim."
Nearly everyone clapped their hands over their mouths in horror. Tristan had a feeling it was mostly due to Trelawney's ominous tone rather than because they actually understood the meaning of what she had said.
"The what?" asked Harry, confused.
"The Grim, my dear, the Grim!" Trelawney was shocked that Harry hadn't understood. "The giant, spectral dog that haunts churchyards! My dear boy, it is an omen — the worst omen — of death!"
"Called it," Tristan whispered to Hermione, only to find her gone. He straightened up, eyes sweeping wildly around the room until they finally landed on her as she was creeping up behind Trelawney's chair.
She peered over the woman's shoulder. "I don't think it looks like a Grim."
Professor Trelawney eyed Hermione with mounting dislike. "You'll forgive me for saying so, my dear, but I perceive very little aura around you. Very little receptivity to the resonances of the future."
A little to the side, Seamus Finnigan tilted his head to the right. "It looks like a Grim if you do this," he said, squinting his eyes. Then he leaned to the left, "But it looks more like a donkey from here."
"When you've all finished deciding whether I'm going to die or not!" Harry blurted suddenly, obviously annoyed that everyone was speaking about him without taking his own opinion into consideration.
Tristan rolled his eyes. "You're not going to die."
"I think we will leave the lesson here for today," Professor Trelawney intervened, speaking in her mistiest, most mysterious voice. "Yes… please pack away your things…"
Silently, the class handed back the teacups, packed away their books and closed their bags. As they were heading out of the attic-like room, climbing down the ladder, Tristan noticed Harry's apprehensiveness and how Ron seemed to be avoiding looking him in the eye.
"Divination's a load of codswallop," he declared loudly. Both his friends turned to him. "What? The woman clearly wanted to make an impression for her first class and you were the perfect target."
Hermione nodded earnestly, "He's right. Harry, don't let any of that get to you."
"She predicted Neville breaking her china, didn't she?" Ron pointed out.
"Anyone in the castle could've predicted that," Tristan retorted with mild annoyance. "Neville's a walking disaster, he can't take one step without knocking into something. Look—" He clasped a hand over Harry's shoulder. "Even if Trelawney is right, which I honestly don't think she is, you have nothing to worry about. We've got your back, remember?"
"Yeah, I guess..." Harry showed the hint of a smile. "Thanks, Tris."
"No worries, mate. Now c'mon, McGonagall will skin us alive if we're late for her class."
Luckily, they weren't. It took them fifteen minutes to find McGonagall's classroom, but they arrived just in time.
While Harry and Ron found a table in the back, Tristan followed Hermione to the front of the class. His eyes glistened with interest when McGonagall announced that they would be learning about Animagi. He'd always wanted to be one, though he knew it was a really difficult thing to achieve. Very few wizards were actually capable of going through the full process. It involved complex potion-brewing with ingredients that were hard to find, plus extremely specific weather conditions for casting the final spell.
He thought McGonagall's transformation into a tabby cat was absolutely brilliant (it never got old) and was a little annoyed when class deviated from the topic because everyone was still caught up on what transpired in Divination. Obviously McGonagall was quick to put the matter to rest. She dismissed Trelawney's omens by telling them that Divination was one of the most imprecise branches of magic and that Professor Trelawney predicted the death of at least one of her students every single year but so far none of them had died yet.
Tristan and Hermione just looked at each other knowingly and shared a laugh.
