Y1, C10: Many, Many Private Conversations
Remus was leaning back onto his pillow to revise his Potions notes one more time when Madam Pomfrey opened the door to her office. "Mr. Lupin, Professor Questus would like to see you," she said, "and apparently he can't wait until you're feeling better."
Remus did not want to see Professor Questus.
"Are you sure?" he asked. "Maybe he's looking for a different Remus Lupin who happens to be in the Hospital Wing."
"I don't think that there are any more Remus Lupins in the Hospital Wing."
"Have you checked behind the cabinet?"
"Mr. Lupin. If you're feeling too tired, then I'll tell him to leave."
"No, it's all right," Remus said. He didn't want to make Professor Questus any angrier with him than he had seemed to be before. Questus' words rang through his head again with frightening clarity. I will not walk on eggshells around you... you need to be less sensitive... don't assume everything is discrimination...
Remus really did not want to see Professor Questus.
"If you're sure," said Madam Pomfrey as she let Questus in. Questus seemed to be even more grumpy than usual.
"Lupin," he said.
"Evening, Professor," Remus said awkwardly.
There was a pause.
Bufo croaked.
This is awkward, Remus thought.
"If you could give us a little privacy, Pomfrey," Questus said, keeping his eyes on Remus.
"Why? I'll have you know that Remus is my patient and I'd like to make sure that he's not overexerting himself..." Just then, a boy walked into the Hospital Wing with bubbles streaming out of his nose. "I'll be going, then. Be careful, Mr. Lupin. Mind your leg."
Remus nodded as Madam Pomfrey shut the door. "Why did you want to see me, Professor?" he asked Questus quietly.
"Well, partially because I wanted to give you the notes for tomorrow's lesson," said Questus. "Frankly, you look dreadful. Don't want you to feel obligated to come to your first class tomorrow morning."
"Thank you, sir." Remus took the notes gingerly and scanned the neat handwriting. He assumed that Questus had written them himself: Remus suddenly felt a rush of guilt for disliking him. "Hexes vs. curses? Madam Pomfrey and I were just talking about that this morning."
"Were you?"
"Yes, James and Sirius said that I had cursed my trunk, but really I had only hexed it... Never mind."
"Interesting that you—a first-year—already know the difference between a curse and a hex, much less are able to cast a hex yourself," said Questus, looking vaguely impressed.
"Not reliably. I know the theory, but it takes far too long to actually cast the spell."
"Well, theory is the first step," said Questus. "Magical potential will come with time. Probably, that is. No guarantees."
There was another awkward pause. "This... isn't the only reason you came here, is it?" Remus asked.
"No," said Questus, looking rather constipated. "I wanted to apologize."
"Sir?" That was the last thing that Remus had expected.
"I was told... that I judged you too quickly. I used to be an Auror, you know, and I've dealt with many Dark creatures such as yourself..."
Remus did not like Professor Questus.
"And I'm afraid I saw what I expected to see. You understand, after a run-in with one Fenrir Greyback, one isn't inclined to think very highly of werewolves. I was determined to prepare my students for the oncoming war when I was hired, but Albus Dumbledore has alerted me that pulling aside first-years and lecturing them sternly is not always the best approach... I do, however, stand by what I said earlier: I'll try my best to treat you like any other student, although I admit I have not done as well as I thought I was doing."
Remus froze at the mention of Fenrir Greyback and tried to shake away bad memories of windows and broken glass and blood. "It's all right, sir. I know it sounds awful, but I daresay I'm used to it."
"Suppose you are. You're going to have to get even more used to it in the future," said Questus rather bluntly.
Remus did not like Professor Questus.
"Now that I'm here, why don't I go over some of the finer points of the lecture tomorrow? Notes won't do it justice."
"I'd like that very much, sir," Remus said. "Thank you."
"No problem. Starting from the beginning. What do you know about the definition of Dark magic?"
"Magic intended only to harm, with potentially lasting effects."
"A direct quote from your Defense textbook. Now say it in your own words."
"Magic that... can't be used for good. Sometimes, one can make the argument that it's in a grey area... but it's only ever used to torture, kill, and control. Dark curses typically scar or can't be healed with magic."
"I assume you have plenty of experience with that?"
Remus did not like Professor Questus.
"What do you think?" asked Remus sarcastically, gesturing to the gauze.
"Point taken. Dark magic is primarily used for three main reasons, which you mentioned above. The term was coined in the..." The lesson went on for about fifteen more minutes. Questus made a few more offhand remarks about werewolves, which made Remus very uncomfortable. Overall, though, he was animated and a very decent teacher. Remus didn't like admitting that, even to himself.
But after Questus left Remus to muse over the day's events—distracted only by the constant prickling in his left arm—Remus realized something.
Yes, Professor Questus could be blunt. Sure, he was a little bit rude and thoughtless. Perhaps he was even mean. But Remus had never been treated like that before—as someone who was not to be pitied, someone who was a student with flaws just like anyone else's, someone who had a condition that didn't define him and wasn't taboo...
Remus liked Professor Questus.
The following night was uneventful, mostly. Madam Pomfrey hovered over Remus for a few hours here and there, and Remus found it very difficult to fall asleep. For the most part, however, he slept unusually soundly for the night after the full moon. The Pain-Relieving Potion wore off at about one in the morning, and Remus woke up in a cold sweat to a stabbing pain in his right leg and Madam Pomfrey pressing a cool cloth to his forehead. The Skele-Gro was mildly painful, but it was nothing he couldn't handle.
The next morning, he woke up at around nine-thirty. He panicked. "Madam Pomfrey, I'm going to miss Defense!"
"Yes, you are. You're going to miss the rest of your classes today, too. You are not walking anywhere on that leg, young man."
"But... but I'll fall behind! Someone will notice I'm not there and figure out what I am!"
"Yes, of course," said Madam Pomfrey. "I don't know about you, but whenever a student is absent from class, my first thought is 'he must be a werewolf'! And as for falling behind, you seem to be quite ahead of the curve. I'm sure you can afford to miss a class or two."
"You say that now," said Remus. "But in a few months, when I'm absent every month around the full moon, then it won't seem quite so silly. I'll fall behind; I just know it. Please, Madam Pomfrey… I'll be ever so careful."
"I think it would be more suspicious for you to show up limping than to miss a day of school," said Madam Pomfrey. "Your leg is healing quite nicely, and you should be able to walk on it just fine by tomorrow. Rest today."
Remus felt a little like throwing a temper tantrum, but quickly decided against it. He was eleven, after all: practically a grown-up. "Yes, Madam Pomfrey," he said a little sadly. "I shall just stay here and twiddle my thumbs and stare at the ceiling."
"You do that," said Madam Pomfrey. "Oh, and keep that toad quiet. Prospective students occupying the main ward might be quite distressed to hear frogs coming from my office." Madam Pomfrey wrinkled her nose in disgust at the notion and then shut the office door behind her, leaving a very discouraged Remus alone.
A few hours later, Remus managed to convince Madam Pomfrey to pick up a few books for him at the library. He had never been to the Hogwarts library, but Madam Pomfrey assured him that it was most impressive. Remus read until mid-afternoon—that was when his eyes went all squiggly from staring at tiny black lines on a page for hours at a time.
He spent an hour on lunch, eating as much as he physically could while Madam Pomfrey watched him. He spent an hour listening to the students coming into the main ward with various interesting injuries. He spent an hour watching Bufo hop all over his sheets. He spent ten minutes staring at the ceiling. He memorized the Defense notes that Professor Questus had sent him word-for-word.
He was bored.
At four o'clock, he composed yet another letter to his parents.
Dear Mum and Dad,
I am currently in the Hospital Wing. I have been here all day yesterday and all day today. I regret to inform you that I am very, very bored. I'm not that badly injured, I promise; it's just that Madam Pomfrey is a little bit of a control freak. No offense to her—she's been very good to me (though I wish she would just LET ME LEAVE).
Honestly, I feel perfectly well. The Defense teacher gave me notes yesterday for today's class (I'm missing it, obviously), and I've already memorized them completely. I'm a little worried about falling behind in my other classes, but at least I'm all caught up in Defense.
Nothing has happened, so I don't have much to write about. Madam Pomfrey got me some books from the library: one on bat species, one on water-related charms, and one on Gellert Grindelwald. I'm still working on Aguamenti. My wand is a lot easier to use than yours, Dad, but we haven't actually used them yet in any of my classes. I expect I'm missing that today.
The pain is incredibly manageable. I only woke up a couple times last night, and I managed to sleep until nine-thirty. I've been eating very well. Madam Pomfrey says that I should be ready to return to classes tomorrow.
How's Garrison? Bufo's doing fine. He's been riding on my shoulder to meals. None of the people I eat with are afraid of toads. I think Madam Pomfrey is, but don't tell her I said that.
Mum, why on earth did you tell Madam Pomfrey about that time I thought I ate the mouse? I could tell her plenty of embarrassing stories about you, you know. Don't forget the time with the soap and Garrison.
I miss you both, but it's a lot of fun here. Even the Hospital Wing is mildly entertaining. I heard a kid come in with wheels for feet. He could barely stand up and crashed right into the potions cabinet. It's a good thing Madam Pomfrey is so quick with her wand; otherwise that could have ended badly.
Do try not to worry, and write to me whenever you have the time. I really am feeling fine.
Love,
Remus.
Madam Pomfrey opened the door to check on Remus. Her hair was a complete mess. "Feeling all right, Mr. Lupin?"
"Yes, ma'am. What happened to your hair?"
"Accidental electrocution. Never a dull day. Can you move your arm for me?"
Remus wiggled the fingers on his left arm. "Everything seems to be in order, Madam."
"Good, good. I'm going to change the dressings on your leg. Don't move an inch." Remus stayed as still as possible while Madam Pomfrey removed the bandages, but he stopped her before she replaced them.
"May I see?" he asked.
"I don't think you want to, Mr. Lupin," said Madam Pomfrey.
"I think I'll be fine, thanks," said Remus dryly. "I just want to see what happened—you know, to get an idea of how long it'll take to heal."
Madam Pomfrey reluctantly agreed, and Remus peeked over the covers at his right leg. It was a gruesome sight—blood and bruising, yellow and red and blue all over—but even worse, Remus could see a very clear outline of a wolf's teeth.
"Can't even remember how I did that," he said shakily. "Werewolves must be quite flexible."
Madam Pomfrey snorted and began wrapping his leg in bandages. Remus dug his newly-regrown fingernails into the sheets and managed to flinch only twice. "So... you do usually remember what happens during the full moon?" she asked.
The sudden question rather took Remus aback, but he felt that he owed Madam Pomfrey as much information as possible after all she was doing for him. "Well, yeah," said Remus quietly. He hated talking about this; it was quite possibly the worst part of the whole experience. He could stand the pain and the embarrassment, the boredom, the illness… but the fact that he could hurt someone, the disgust that came with how he felt on the moon, the changing of his mind... "It's not like I black out and wake up covered in blood. It is me on the full moon... it's just... a warped version of me. That's the worst part. I can remember all of my reasoning behind doing things. I just would never… do them now."
Madam Pomfrey closed her eyes, and Remus expected her to be repulsed or afraid... "That's awful," she said, much to Remus' surprise. "People never really do seem to understand that thoughts often leave deeper scars than physical hurt, do they?"
Remus smiled, even though he rather felt like crying. "It's not so bad," he said. "One can get used to just about anything."
"So... how long...?"
"Six years."
"You were five?"
"Yeah, nearly."
Remus hated the look of pity on Madam Pomfrey's face. He desperately fumbled for something to say, anything to make her feel better... "Really. It's not bad at all," he said, even though it was. "I'm pretty used to it now," he said, even though he sometimes felt like he wasn't. "It sounds worse than it is," he said, even though it didn't. "I don't want pity." he finished—and that was entirely true.
Madam Pomfrey repented immediately. "Of course you don't, Mr. Lupin," she said. "Now, put down that letter. I want you to take a nice, long nap until dinner. Take this potion for your leg—yes, the blue one. I'll wake you up in an hour and a half. And I don't want to see you doing any homework!"
"Yes, ma'am," said Remus, doing a two-fingered salute. "I won't even dream of homework."
"I'll hold you to that," said Madam Pomfrey as she exited the room. Remus closed his eyes immediately and told himself to sleep. He attempted to rid his head as best he could of pity, pain, blood, and wolves—even though he knew that the task was impossible.
Remus woke up to the sound of faint voices in the corridor outside of the main ward. One of them was Madam Pomfrey. The other was Professor Dumbledore.
"I assume he's not giving you any trouble?" asked Dumbledore.
"Oh, he's giving me plenty of trouble. Most stubborn boy I've ever met," said Madam Pomfrey fondly. "Do you know, he asked to go to classes the second he woke up yesterday morning?" Remus figured that they were talking about him. He wondered vaguely if it was rude to eavesdrop on their conversations, and promptly decided that yes, it was. He continued to listen.
"He seems to be very bright," said Dumbledore, and Remus felt a surge of pride.
"Yes, very much so. Spent all day today and yesterday doing homework when he wasn't sleeping. Apparently he managed to put quite a few advanced hexes on his trunk, which landed Potter, Black, and Pettigrew in the Hospital Wing when they tried to snoop."
Dumbledore said something that Remus couldn't make out—even with his werewolf hearing—and then there was a pregnant pause.
"I hate it," said Madam Pomfrey, somewhat tearfully. "I did the math, you know. It's been over seventy times. Seventy! Probably even eighty. Can you imagine?" Remus felt ill, but Madam Pomfrey continued regardless.
"Yes, he's healing up all right, but... but the things he's told me...! Just offhand remarks; he doesn't like to talk about it. But he can remember everything that happens on the full moon, and the transformation… I can't imagine how much it hurts, and I can't even give him potions for it… and you should have seen him shaking as we walked to the Willow; he's afraid, and understandably so…. Albus, isn't there something we can do?"
Dumbledore said something else that Remus couldn't make out. Curse Dumbledore and his quiet, calm voice, Remus thought.
"Right. I really must compose myself. He doesn't like to see pity, you know. I'm trying very hard not to show it, no matter how hard it is. Just wants to be normal, he does, and by Merlin, I am going to do my best to treat him as such."
Remus closed his eyes and begged himself to fall back asleep. He wasn't sure he wanted to hear any more of this. Fortunately, he was starved for sleep, and it came quickly.