Y1: Something Harsh Over Tea

Remus meandered around the school, lost in his thoughts. Bufo croaked worriedly from his perch on Remus' shoulder. "I'm fine, Bufo," Remus said. "I just need to think."

"Croak."

"Don't take that accusing tone with me. I did what was best. For both me and Peter."

"Ribbit."

"Well, it doesn't matter what you think. The point is, he's better off without me. So would you just shut up and leave me to think?"

"Croak?"

"You're not helping. I'm not like them; I can't be close to anyone. It was fun for a while, but it has to end. I'm here to get an education and then get out. Nothing more. Nothing less. I should just focus on my studies and keep a good old frosty distance from Potter, Black, Pettigrew, Evans, and even Snape."

Remus turned another corner, looking determinedly at the floor. He was going to end up utterly lost, he knew. But walking always helped clear his head. His dad was a pacer, too. The rhythm of walking always seemed to make Remus feel better.

He walked up and down staircases, through corridors, and past classrooms. It was six-thirty. Dinner was in session, and Remus was missing it. He told his growling stomach that he didn't mind, not really. And honestly, the prospect of eating with his friends made the hunger disappear and nausea set in—which was far worse.

Horrible thoughts twirled around in his head like some sort of sick dance recital. He thought of Peter's face falling when Remus had abandoned him. He imagined James and Sirius mercilessly teasing Peter—after all, Remus was usually the one to break things up and subtly change the subject. He thought of how miserable classes would be without his friends'—no, dormmates'—horseplay and bad jokes. He thought of meals by himself. He imagined Hagrid and Bufo being his only friends. He'd be a lone wolf, just as nature intended. It was terrifying.

He couldn't bear these thoughts, so he thought about Murtlaps instead. He wondered what happened to the Murtlap at Hagrid's. He thought about the unfortunate symptoms of a Murtlap bite. He thought of their slippery tentacles and odd appearance. He didn't like Murtlaps, but he thought that they were okay. They were better than werewolves, anyhow.

Involuntarily, he thought of the full moon. He hated the full moon with all his heart, but he almost longed for the quiet conversation with Madam Pomfrey in the Hospital Wing. It had been soothing, even though he'd been itching to get back to classes the whole time. And he'd had the whole Hogwarts library at his disposal. The most appealing part of the full moon, though, was that he got a break from his friends—and that's what he needed, really. A break. The Hospital Wing was tied to memories of pain and humiliation, but at least he didn't have to pretend anything there. Madam Pomfrey knew what he was and seemed to like him anyway. Maybe he could find something good about the next full moon after all...

Remus saw something silvery out of the corner of his eye; he looked up to see the full moon, staring down at him with its usual condescending glare. Speak of the devil. A familiar rush of horror ran through him, and he instinctively looked around for a place to restrain himself... but no. The full moon hadn't even been a week ago. This was a Boggart, like Garrison.

Well, this was one spell that Remus could do. He pulled out his wand from his bag. Perhaps he wasn't so useless after all. "Riddikulus," he said, and the full moon immediately turned into a plate—the kind that they had used in Transfiguration class—and then fell to the floor and shattered. Remus inspected it for a second. "Reparo," he whispered. The plate mended itself instantly. Remus automatically felt better.

Now that the panic was over, Remus could sense someone behind him—all the way at the other end of the corridor, but definitely there nonetheless. Professor Questus. "Evening, Professor," he said quietly, without turning around (mostly because he was embarrassed out of his wits).

"Evening. That was an impressive bit of magic, Lupin."

"Thank you, sir," Remus said. He picked up the plate. "What would you like me to do with this?"

"In that empty classroom, if you please," said Questus, wordlessly opening a door. Remus Levitated the plate into the classroom and then shut the door manually. Questus nodded his approval.

That's nearly all of the spells I know reliably, thought Remus with some amusement. Riddikulus, Reparo, and Wingardium Leviosa. Some wizard he was.

"Why, pray tell, are you walking around the school alone?" asked Questus. "With a... toad on your shoulder?"

"This is Bufo," said Remus. "And I just needed to clear my head."

"Anything... wrong?"

"No." Remus said, a bit too quickly. Where were his lying abilities when he needed them?

Questus pressed his lips together and nodded slowly; it was obvious that he didn't believe Remus at all. "My classroom isn't far from here. I have some tea."

"That's nice, sir," said Remus. "I'll head back to my dormitory, then..." That had come out more rudely than intended. Remus cringed.

"In case it wasn't obvious—even though it was; I suspect you're being obtuse on purpose—I'm inviting you in. You look like you need to talk."

Remus was afraid of being lectured again, quite frankly. "I don't want to be... sensitive, or anything."

"Talking about it is the least sensitive thing you can do."

"You don't seem like the type of person to talk about feelings."

"On the contrary. As I said a second ago, you need to face it. Not avoid it. That'll make it worse."

"I'd prefer to go back, get a start on my Potions homework..."

"Two points from Gryffindor."

Remus blinked.

"Don't argue with me. I'm your teacher, not your friends. Follow me."

Remus followed him, stunned. He had never lost points for Gryffindor before. He didn't think any of his friends had, either. Suddenly, he had an odd thought.

"You look confused."

"It's just... can you take half-points? What would happen if you took a point and a half from Gryffindor? Or ten-point-four-seven-two points?"

Questus looked at him inquisitively. "I don't know, actually. Point-seven-three points to Gryffindor for a good question."

Remus smiled. That did make him feel better.

They arrived in Questus' classroom and Remus awkwardly stood by the door. "Take a seat, Lupin," said Questus, but Remus wasn't sure where to sit, so he awkwardly milled about for a few seconds.

"For heaven's sake. Sit. Here, by my desk." Remus did. "Now tell me what's wrong."

"Wrong. W-R-O-N-G. Adjective. Incorrect."

"Lupin. I'm warning you. This is not a spelling bee."

"I'm sorry, sir! It's sort of a knee-jerk response." Remus covered his face in embarrassment and started over. Well, he tried to, at least, but he lost his nerve before even opening his mouth. "You said you had tea?" he said, and Questus wordlessly handed him a cup. "Erm. I don't know what's wrong."

"Yes, you do."

"Yes, I do. I just don't know how... to explain it, sir."

"I'll wait. Take your time. I'd rather you take a long time, actually—I currently have a large stack of seventh-year essays to grade, and I really don't want to do that. Been putting it off as long as I can."

Remus nodded, smiled, and then took five minutes to think about how he wanted to phrase it.

Time passed.

"Er. I'm going to sound very whiny and self-pitying," he finally said.

"Wonderful."

"Well... I told Peter Pettigrew that I didn't want to be friends with him."

Questus' expression did not change. "Yeah, me neither. He's kind of annoying, isn't he?"

Remus was horrified. "You're not supposed to say that! You're his teacher! He's not annoying at all; he's wonderful and brilliant and kind and clever and..."

"Calm down, Lupin; I wasn't aware that you wanted to marry the kid. If you like him so much, then why don't you want to be his friend?"

"Because I don't. I do. But I can't. People like me can't have friends."

"Because you're a werewolf."

"Erm... yeah." Remus wasn't sure that Questus could get any blunter than that.

"So why can't you have friends? Are you afraid you'll accidentally eat them or something?" Apparently he could.

"Sir!"

Questus rolled his eyes. "I'm joking. Answer the question."

"I'm lying to them!" Remus said, everything bursting out at once. He reminded himself of Peter. "I can't tell them the truth about anything. They have this idea of Remus Lupin in their heads that's completely wrong. I'm only causing them pain; they'll hate it when they find out that the fake Remus Lupin they thought they knew never existed. And I'm causing myself pain, too. I'd rather stay safe and stay away from other people than... than have my friends find out before the year is done and then hate me. I'd have to go home. The closer I get to people, the more they worry about me, and then the more they wonder. They'll find out, I know they will. And it's like I'm tricking them—tricking them into touching me, into talking to me, into sleeping near me and being with me. They'd be so disgusted if they knew. I'm not doing them any favors, forcefully affiliating them with someone of my kind without their knowing the risks. I can't. I just can't."

"Right." said Questus. "Makes sense. So what's the problem?"

"You're not going to pull a Dumbledore and tell me that I deserve friendship just as much as anyone else?" said Remus, knowing full well that that's exactly what Dumbledore would say in this particular scenario.

"I'm not Dumbledore. Besides, my opinions don't matter. This is your decision. And you're right: there are certain risks that come with being affiliated with a werewolf, and it is risky for you in particular to make friends. If you decide it's not worth the risk, that's up to you."

"Thank you." Remus was oddly happy that Questus had given it to him straight. There were no mincing words with him.

"You have nothing to thank me for. What's the problem then, if you're so sure that you're doing the right thing?"

"Just because I think it's right doesn't make it any easier."

Questus looked vaguely impressed. "Wise words."

"I'm full of wisdom."

Questus snorted. "Sure, sure. What did you mean by 'think?' You said you 'think it's right'. You're not certain, then?"

Remus paused. "I'm not, actually. Peter... James and Sirius tease Peter all the time and I worry what will happen when I'm not around to help out. And I want to help Peter with his schoolwork. He's not very good at it. And James and Sirius seem to enjoy my company. Plus, it would be difficult to stay away from them all the time. Perhaps an aloof, mysterious person refusing to talk to them will tarnish their Hogwarts experiences."

"A good point."

"So I guess the question is: hurt them now, or hurt them later?"

"I can't tell you the future, Lupin. All I can tell you is that your concerns are valid and that this is a risk vs. reward situation."

Remus was silent. He wasn't sure what to think. "What... what's your opinion, Professor?"

"Are you sure you want it?"

"Yes, sir."

Questus drew a heavy breath through his nose and grinned. "All right; here we go, then. I think that a war is brewing, and finding out that their friend is a skinny, somewhat cowardly, overall harmless werewolf is not the worst thing that will ever happen to your friends. If they bring you more joy than anxiety, keep them. Furthermore, I think that this decision should be obvious and I am astounded that you continue to carry on like it's the biggest thing in the world. You'll face worse. You have faced worse. Get over it. They're just friends, and friendship is not a lifetime commitment if you—or they—don't want it to be. I don't think they'll accept you, of course, and it's highly unlikely that they'll even let you stay at Hogwarts, but friendship isn't that big of a deal. I think you're being dramatic."

Remus furrowed his eyebrows. "But I'm still lying to them!"

"Yes. But it's not as if they have a completely false view of you. For someone who professes that your lycanthropy is not the only aspect of you, you seem to have overlooked the fact that, besides the whole werewolf thing, the idea they have of you is completely accurate. You're being extremely hypocritical. Your personality is the same, your morals are the same, your character is the same.. yes, you're lying to them, but it's not as if they've created a 'fake Remus Lupin', as you put it earlier, in their heads. They're still friends with you—your nature, your character."

"I guess," said Remus. "But it's tiring, Professor. Horribly tiring. Even if I can be myself—well, most of myself, anyhow—I hate having to think about things before I say them. I hate worrying. I never had to with my family. This is exhausting. I... I need time."

"You think that the world's going to give you time? You think that, the next time the full moon rises, you can tell it, 'No thanks, maybe tomorrow,' and it'll actually listen? You think that you could have told the werewolf that bit you to wait until you were grown? The world doesn't give you time; you have to learn to operate even when you don't feel you can. The Dark Arts wait for no one. May I be perfectly frank with you, Lupin?"

Remus was hugging his middle, extremely uncomfortable. He was embarrassed about being uncomfortable, though, so he tried to act nonchalant. "Haven't you been doing so already, sir?"

"I'm about to say something very harsh."

"Brilliant. Go ahead."

"You're not going to get many opportunities for friends. Your life, Lupin, is not going to be easy. I wouldn't be surprised if you end up homeless and jobless, alone on the streets, probably dead at a young age..."

"Ouch," said Remus, taken aback.

"I wasn't finished. You have a stubborn refusal to take what is offered to you. Not a lot of people are going to give you what Hogwarts has and will continue to give. For goodness' sake, give yourself an easy and enjoyable life while you still can."

Remus considered. Questus' honesty, however brutal... was refreshing. These were his actual thoughts, not something watered down for eleven-year-old ears. Remus did not want to hear about his possible future. He did not want to hear that Questus did not think he would ever get a job. He did not want to consider his impending mortality. He did not want to hear that he was stubborn and stupid and hypocritical. But all the same, it helped. Somehow. In a weird way.

He nodded. "That makes sense, sir. Thank you."

Questus smiled wryly. "Dumbledore will chuck me out the window if he hears that I said that to you. Do me a favor and add this conversation to your list of dark secrets."

Remus almost laughed. "Of course."

"You didn't drink much of your tea."

"I was preoccupied."

"Why don't you sit here and finish it? Then I'll walk you back to the Gryffindor Tower area. You don't seem to have a very good sense of direction."

"I don't. Not in... not with this many people around. Thank you, sir." Questus waved his wand over Remus' cup, and it immediately heated up in Remus' hands.

"I'm afraid you've missed dinner."

"I'll live." Remus took a sip of tea and immediately felt calmer. "You didn't enchant this, did you?"

Questus snorted again. "No. I just make excellent tea. I imagine you've done the homework for my class already?"

"Of course."

"Figured. How did Evans like the lesson?"

"I think she rather enjoyed it, although she's still bitter about the eavesdropping."

"How do you feel about the eavesdropping?"

"I think... I think eavesdropping is very impolite, Professor. But I understood the lesson behind it."

Questus rolled his eyes. "Very diplomatic," he said acidly.

"Well, I'm not affected the same as everyone else," Remus protested. "I knew where you were the whole time, so asking for my opinion is void anyhow."

"Werewolf senses?"

"Yes, sir."

"Wish I had those. Would have saved me a lot of hassle back in my Auror days."

Remus squirmed. "I don't think they're worth it."

"No, probably not," Questus agreed, and Remus finished off his tea.

"Thanks, Professor. This was all very helpful."

"Don't mention it, and I mean that literally. Dumbledore was already angry with me for lecturing you on that first day. Here, let me walk you down the corridor—and mind that toad. It looks stupid enough to fall off your shoulder without warning, and frail enough that it'll die if you step on it..."

Remus liked Professor Questus.

He entered Gryffindor Tower and bade farewell to Questus, but he did not want to enter the dormitory. He did not want to face Peter—nor James and Sirius, whom Peter had probably alerted already. It was like Questus said, however—he had to operate when he didn't feel he could; so was the way of the world. And things were only going to get harder. Remus might as well enjoy confrontations about petty matters before he was facing confrontations about weighty matters.

He knocked on the door to his dormitory. "Lupin, if that's you, then you really need to learn that knocking on your own dormitory door is idiotic," came James' voice. Surname only? That was odd, for James. Remus heard his own heart rate increase.

He opened the door and closed it behind him gingerly.

Then he turned around.

The air felt heavy.

There was an awkward silence.

Remus felt three pairs of eyes on him.

"Er... I'm sorry," he said cautiously. "I didn't mean any of that. What I said to Peter, I mean."

"Right," said Peter. He sounded hurt, which made sense. "I told you all my secrets, I blubbed all over you, you helped me feel better, and then you just bolted and told me you didn't want to be my friend. Seriously?"

It sounded a lot worse coming from Peter. "Yeah. I did. I'm sorry."

"Look, Lupin," said Sirius. "I'm not Pettigrew's biggest fan. But that was a bit of a git move on your part."

"I know. I have no excuse."

"And then you come crawling back here without so much of an explanation?"

"I can explain! It's not an excuse. But I can explain."

"Yeah?" said James. "This better be good. I thought you were a good person, for crying out loud."

Good. Person. Both were debatable. "I... look, here's the thing. I didn't leave the house very often when I was young. Because of my mum. I had this irrational fear that she would get ill and die the second I left her." Or the townspeople would come after me with a pitchfork. "You already knew that, but probably not to the degree that it actually happened... This is my first time away from home without my parents, ever. You're the first people my age that I've met since... since I was four. And I was sickly myself. Got ill all the time, and my parents would panic whenever it happened and I'd be quarantined. It's only a weak immune system, but still." A little more than that. "I always felt guilty, using up money that could have been going towards my mum. And now I feel guilty for leaving her and my dad. They've been my only company for more than five years. I'm... afraid of getting to know other people. I'm scared to death, I think."

There was silence, and Remus sincerely hoped that they bought it. It was a rather good lie, he thought, but you never knew.

"I'm really sorry, Peter," he said quietly, breaking the awkward silence. "And everything I said was true. You're too good for me; that's why I left. I like you too much and I don't want to disappoint you. All of you."

More silence. The silence was painful; Remus would rather be bitten by a Murtlap than endure more of this horrific silence.

"Good enough for you, mate?" James finally said, turning to Sirius. Sirius nodded.

"Good enough for me. Good enough for you, Pete?"

Peter nodded. "Of course. Sirius, would you do the honors?"

"You are hereby forgiven. Furthermore, while you were gone, we have decided to make a club of sorts."

"A club?" Remus felt a bit lightheaded.

"Yes. A club dedicated to trouble, mischief, and funny business of all kinds—and a lot better than the Slug Club, which I'm sure will be terrifically boring. We call ourselves..."

"The Marauders!" Peter shrieked. "We're the Marauders! The four of us!"

"Together," said James, "we shall prank the entire school silly. We shall enact revenge on our enemies (namely, Snivellus). We shall make it our mission to accumulate detentions, laughs, and good memories during our years here at Hogwarts. We officially invite you, Mssr. Remus Lupin, to join us in our nonsensical adventures."

"And if you decline, we're going to have to kill you, since you know all of our secrets," added Sirius.

James, Peter, and Sirius looked at Remus with glowing faces and hope in their eyes, and Remus didn't even hesitate. "Well, with an invitation like that," he said, "I'm in."

"The Marauders" was a bit of a dumb name. But hey, his friends were utterly and completely stupid. And he loved them for it.

His friends. A simple seven-letter word, but Remus doubted that he would ever tire of hearing it.

AN: Once I burned my tongue on tea, and now I'm afraid to take the first sip until it's too cold to enjoy properly. It's a curse.