Y1, C6: Dreams, Directions, and Disrespect

Remus awoke from his unpleasant sleep early the next morning. Birds were chirping. Light was streaming through the window (which had been the object of Remus' suffering all night long). Sirius was pulling on a sock, James was half-dressed, and Peter was still snoring.

"Remus! How'd you sleep?" Sirius asked.

Remus rubbed his eyes. "Like a rock."

"A rock that woke up multiple times during the night," James said.

"Yeah," said Remus. "But at least rocks are quiet. Sirius was mumbling in his sleep..."

"No, I wasn't!"

"You actually were," said James. "I was trying to figure out what you were dreaming about, but it sounded like gibberish to me…."

"He said something about daffodils, I believe," Remus said helpfully.

"I caught a bit about a dinosaur."

"Don't forget the rhino with twelve ears."

"You heard the part about teeth, right?"

Remus shivered. "Yeah, I'm not sure I want to know what Sirius was dreaming about."

Sirius crossed his arms. "But I don't snore. Pettigrew was snoring all night."

"I wasn't!" said Peter.

"Only about as loud as a jackhammer, mate."

"Remus' bed was so squeaky."

"James sneezed six times."

"I think I'm allergic to Peter."

"Maybe you're allergic to your own stupidity—"

"Oi!"

Remus contentedly watched Sirius and James laugh and wrestle with their socks before retreating back into the lavatory to change, smiling the whole time. He hadn't expected everyone at Hogwarts to be so nice, and he certainly hadn't expected such fun roommates (they did have very loud voices that sometimes hurt Remus' ears… but Remus was willing to deal with that). Remus' father had been right: Hogwarts felt a lot smaller when he had a close circle of—well, not friends, but perhaps close acquaintances. Maybe they would be his friends someday, even.

Until they find out what I am and can't stand to be near me.

Remus stopped smiling.

Breakfast went about as well as Remus expected. He was starting to feel the effects of the moon already, which was never a good thing a full three days prior to the event. James and Sirius, however, were probably the funniest people Remus had ever met, and he nearly spit out his pumpkin juice due to laughter multiple times.

Peter seemed to revere them both, and Remus saw why. They were somewhat kind, and Sirius was rather handsome for an eleven-year-old. They were funny and confident and cool, sort of how Remus imagined Rose to have been. They seemed just like the type of students to smoke fake cigarettes. Remus, all things considered, genuinely enjoyed their company.

But Remus also remembered that Sirius was Pureblood; he was sure that Sirius would never want to be friends with a werewolf. Peter was quite skittish and jumpy, so he was out as well. And James was... well, no one was immune to discrimination, not even James. Plus, Sirius and James did seem like the popular types, and Remus didn't want to call attention to himself by spending time with them. As much as he loved the jovial camaraderie of it all, he knew that being friends with James Potter and Sirius Black was not wise.

But coming here wasn't wise in the first place, was it? thought Remus, thoughtfully buttering a crumpet.

"Hey, Remus! Where do you plan on putting that toad?" Sirius asked, and Remus realized that Bufo had been on his shoulder all of breakfast.

"Back in the dorm. He'll only hop around a bit—he shouldn't get too lost. I do hope he won't be lonely."

"Why would you bring a toad to school, anyway? They're pretty dull."

"He's my friend!" Remus said indignantly. Bufo had helped him through many a rough transformation. He was so quiet and still, he never gave Remus any funny looks (he couldn't help looking funny, though) and was willing to sit on Remus' shoulder and read with him. Or watch Remus read, at least, seeing as toads could not read.

Talking of funny looks, Remus was receiving quite a few from the staff table. He really hated feeling like a specimen to gawk at. He fervently hoped that Sirius, James, and Peter didn't notice some of the adults' fascination with him.

"I can understand that," said James. "Sirius and I have got owls. I've had mine since I was seven. His name's Bluebottle. What was yours again, Sirius?"

Sirius grinned and said a very dirty word.

"You named your owl..." James repeated the very dirty word with a grin.

"Yep. Made my mum angry."

"We can't call him that here, though!" said Remus.

"Why not?"

"We'll get in trouble, won't we?"

"So what?"

"Er." Remus wasn't sure how to respond to that. "If you want detention, then I guess it's fine…."

"I don't mind detention," said Sirius. "But I'm going to make you come up with a new name for my owl if you don't like my old one."

"That's fair," said James. "I have a feeling that Remus is secretly awfully creative, hm?"

"Emphasis on awful," muttered Remus. "I'm really not."

"Nonsense," said Sirius, flicking a bit of bacon at Remus. Remus winced. "We'll have you come up with a name for my owl—since you're so intent on staying out of trouble—and I'll just give him a placeholder for now. What about..." Sirius let out a very high-pitched shriek.

James mimicked him. "That's a perfect name."

Remus wasn't sure how to feel. He couldn't tell whether James and Sirius genuinely thought he was creative… or if they were simply poking fun at him. No matter; now he had an owl's name to ponder when he wanted to stop himself from thinking of werewolves. "What about you, Peter?" he asked, hoping to change the subject before James or Sirius screeched again. "Have you got any pets?"

Peter's face flushed with happiness to be included. "No, but once I caught a fly in a plastic jar and named it Gerald."

James sniggered, and Peter looked proud of himself. "How'd that go?"

"We were the best of friends until Gerald died of old age—after two days."

Laughter ensued, and Remus felt giddy with excitement. They weren't friends, no, not yet... but at least he wasn't alone, and that made all the difference.

Remus found navigating the staircases very difficult. That, of course, was partially because he was trying to take notes as he walked.

"What are you doing?" asked James.

"Taking notes. My sense of direction leaves much to be desired," answered Remus as he wrote take a left by the portrait of the dragon in a small notebook. To tell the truth, he usually used his sense of smell to navigate (when he needed to do so, which was rare as a homebound werewolf), but doing so was impossible in such a large castle with so many students. As a result, Remus had no idea how to get around like a normal person, which made him feel even more alienated than he already had been. "We're heading to Defense Against the Dark Arts, right?"

"Yeah, it should be right up here," said Sirius. "I hear the professor's really mean this year."

"Mean?"

"Yeah, super strict and unfair."

Remus swallowed. Defense Against the Dark Arts scared him more than a little. He couldn't bear the thought of sitting in a classroom, listening to ways to kill Dark creatures like him. What if the professor singled him out? Visions of practical lessons flooded his head—and curses—and having to write essays on werewolves….

"Ah, don't look so nervous. If he was that bad, Dumbledore wouldn't have hired him." said James.

Remus jumped, but then realized that James had not been talking to him; he had been addressing Peter, whose face was as white as Nearly Headless Nick's.

They soon arrived at a polished wooden door, and Sirius opened it confidently. "This has got to be it," he said.

It wasn't.

It was a broom closet.

"Aw, I think I was supposed to take a right back at that statue."

"Oh, joy," said Remus, scratching out the notes that he had been taking for the last five minutes.

It was another ten minutes before they reached the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom, and Remus felt glad that they had left early enough to be on time—even with the wrong turns here and there. They had cut it close, however, and there were only three available seats next to each other.

"Come on, Remus, sit in the back with us," said Sirius.

Remus was tempted, but he felt awful for Peter. Peter's going to be friends with them for longer than you are anyway, Remus told himself. If they knew what you were they wouldn't want to touch you with a ten-foot pole, unless they were trying to kill you with said ten-foot pole.

"Nah, I'd like to sit up near the front where I can see," said Remus. "I'll meet up with you after class, yeah?"

Sirius looked disappointed. "Aw, looks like Pettigrew's with us," he said sadly. Peter beamed so brightly that Remus wondered yet again where the sunglasses were.

Remus took a seat next to a rather pretty girl with long red hair. "Hullo," he said lamely.

"Are you friends with them?" she asked, gesturing towards James and Sirius.

"We're dormmates," responded Remus slowly. "They're decent, I think, but we've only known each other for a day."

The girl pouted slightly. "They're not nice at all. They were teasing my friend on the Hogwarts Express, just because he wanted to be in Slytherin."

"That wasn't very nice of them," said Remus, but he wasn't surprised. After all, James and Sirius had been rather unpleasant towards Peter—although it did seem like they were trying to be kind. Half-heartedly, at least. Well, Remus could see it if he squinted and turned his head at a 45-degree angle.

"I'm Lily Evans," said the girl; fortunately, she didn't seem to be angry at Remus for spending time with James, Sirius, and Peter. Perhaps Remus could even make a fourth acquaintance.

"Remus Lupin," said Remus. "Do you think that…?" Then Remus trailed off. Something wasn't right. "Someone's here," he said.

"Yeah," said Lily, giving him an odd look. "The class is full of students."

"No, someone's... here, at the front of the room." Remus immediately regretted saying it. He didn't see anyone; the only reason he knew was because of his heightened sense of smell and hearing. A man, Remus supposed. Why would there be an invisible man at the front of the classroom?

"Disillusioned?" he wondered aloud. He definitely heard breathing, and it was definitely a man. What if it was someone dangerous? A member of the Werewolf Capture Unit? It wasn't anyone he recognized.

There was only one way to find out. He crumpled up a spare bit of parchment and threw it lightly at the thing. Just as he had suspected, the parchment bounced off of what seemed to be thin air.

The class went silent. Remus stared. Lily stared. Overall, there was quite a bit of staring.

All at once, the man became visible—a relatively tall man in his fifties with a short salt-and-pepper beard and dark brown robes. He bent down and picked up the parchment—which had hit him square in the nose, from the looks of it.

"Who are you, then?" he asked Remus.

"...Remus Lupin, sir."

"I see." The man looked at Remus a bit more intently, and Remus squirmed. "Well done, Lupin."

Remus was not expecting that. "I'm very sorry, I just... who are you?"

"Questus. Professor Questus, that is... your Defense Against the Dark Arts professor."

Oh. So he knew that Remus was a werewolf. Remus looked at him carefully—there was no hate in his eyes; only slight confusion. And maybe a little bit of disgust? Or was Remus imagining it? He probably was. "May I ask why you were Disillusioned, Professor?"

"Thought it would be interesting to watch my class in a more natural environment. I figured it would give me a better sense of who you all are. I'm very impressed that you can recognize a Disillusioned person, Lupin—and you were completely right to do that, as you had no idea who I was. I could have been dangerous. Ten points to Gryffindor."

Remus felt like he had cheated.

"Again, I'm Professor Questus," Questus said, addressing the entire class this time. "And this is Defense Against the Dark Arts, Year One. The Dark Arts are a very dangerous branch of magic that could destroy a person's life or kill them in a lot of unpleasant ways. Unimaginable, really. I've seen it first-hand."

Remus, who had also seen it first-hand, knew that all too well.

"In this class, we'll be learning about all sorts of Dark spells, creatures, and other phenomena that, as a whole, make up the strongest opposing force in the world."

Peter gave an odd sort of squeak.

"I know that you may be uncomfortable or even afraid to hear of such things, but it's necessary. The more familiar one is with a subject, the less scary it becomes; the less scary an object is, the more easily you are able to keep your cool should you ever encounter it. Got it? All I ask is that you act as competent as mentally and physically possible. There are three main impetuses that drive people to the Dark Arts… can anyone give me one? You in the front?"

"Power?" Lily asked.

Questus flicked his eyebrows upwards. "Is that a question?"

"Power."

"Yes, that's the most common one. It can be noble, sometimes. People can want power to protect their loved ones, or to create a better life for marginalized individuals, or even to save entire cities—as well as for selfish reasons, of course. However, even things done for noble reasons can have disastrous results. Dark magic always does. Another one... yes, you."

"Curiosity." said a boy with blond hair in the third row.

"Yes. Ravenclaws, predictably, are particularly susceptible to this. You may research the Dark Arts all you want, but it is quite stupid to get involved. There's one more. Anyone know?"

Remus knew—he knew all too well—but he did not raise his hand.

"No one? Is anyone even taking notes?" There was a flurry of scribbling. "If no one knows..." Questus' gaze swept over the class, but thankfully, it did not linger on Remus longer than any other student. "Some people are affiliated with the Dark Arts for reasons that are not their own... people can become affiliated by accident or because of somebody else's malicious intent. This is known as a curse. Write that down."

Remus didn't.

"Lupin, I believe I told you to write that down."

Remus jumped. "Yes, of course, sir. Sorry."

"Since you think you know this already, can you give us an example of a Dark object, spell, or creature?"

Werewolves, Remus thought. "Boggarts," he said. "But they're not really creatures—only apparitions…."

"I thought you would say that." Questus was not smiling, but he did look somewhat pleased. "And you're right, of course. Your father is quite the expert, isn't he? I doubt he knows me, but I've seen him around the Ministry when I worked there as an Auror. I imagine you've seen quite a few Boggarts...?"

"We have a Boggart at our house, sir. In the wardrobe downstairs. We've named him Garrison."

Questus exhaled sharply; it almost resembled a laugh. "I'm not surprised. Your father was always a bit eccentric."

"Coming from the man who Disillusioned himself to spy on his students."

Questus blinked. "See me after class," he said, and Remus cringed. Whatever had happened to not standing out? He hadn't meant to be disrespectful... but his parents were both funny, he was used to making jokes, and it just felt natural at this point. He slumped back into his chair and listened to the rest of the lesson passively, taking notes and avoiding Lily's gaze.

After the class filed out, Remus stayed behind, true to his word. "Professor, you wanted to see me?"

"Remus Lupin." Questus stared at him for a few seconds. "You're quite the talk of the staff, you know. Interesting to finally meet you. I understand that you endure a particularly horrible curse yourself? I assume that you were very uncomfortable talking about such subjects... perhaps you thought I was doing it on purpose... and I imagine that's what caused the comment."

It hadn't been! Questus was way off. Remus tried to tell him so, but his tongue got all tied up on the simultaneous apologies. "No, sir. I'm really sorry, I didn't mean to—I shouldn't have..."

"But I'm not sorry for bringing the subject up. Like I said before: the more familiar you are with a concept, the better you'll respond to it."

Remus tried again. "Yes, I'm sorry, I was out of line, I won't do it again, sir... but..."

"I'm not going to walk on eggshells for you, Lupin. There are a great many things in this class that you might take personally, but you should recognize it as something that the other students need to know to protect themselves against a fate like yours."

"I understand; I..."

"I want you to know that I'll be treating you like any other student if it's the last thing I do. I'm not angry with you for your remark, but you should give us teachers a little more credit instead of seeing everything as discrimination."

"I never thought you were..." Remus gave up. "Thank you, sir."

"Good day, Lupin."

Remus left, feeling very embarrassed. Calling him out like that wasn't treating him like any other student; it was humiliating. Remus didn't want him to walk on eggshells, of course, and it wasn't about discrimination. Remus hadn't been offended, only careless.

But he supposed he had deserved it. The remark in itself was really nothing more than the type of joke his parents and he would make to each other all the time, of course, but he knew that he should start to watch his tongue and be little more respectful around professors.

He hadn't realized how fast he was walking until he caught up to Lily. "Remus! Did he chew you out?" she asked.

"A little, yeah. I didn't mean to say it; I was just..."

"I thought it was brilliant," said Lily. "Goodness knows he deserved it. Eavesdropping isn't polite, even for teachers. How did you know, by the way?"

"He was breathing rather loudly," Remus said. It was a half-truth.

"Brilliant. Absolutely brilliant."

Remus did not like Professor Questus. But he did like Lily, and James, and Sirius, and Peter. And Dumbledore, even.

So all in all, there were more good things than bad, and Remus was thankful for that.