Chapter 23: Flirting With Ghosts

James and Sirius each accumulated another detention before double Transfiguration that afternoon. They seemed to be drunk on mischief. Remus had not known that mischief was alcoholic, but he seemed to be a bit tipsy himself. He had laughed so hard in the past couple of hours that his head felt buzzy and his brain felt light—the feeling was slightly similar to what he sometimes felt before a transformation (particularly if he had one of the terrible Episodes beforehand that made his chest feel tight and his lungs feel constricted), but it was completely different at the same time.

The Marauders ambled down the corridor, casually bumping into each other and joking as they went, and then took their seats in Transfiguration. They sat next to each other, as usual, and the feeling of being so close and casual with his friends was pure euphoria in Remus' eyes. Nothing could spoil it—though Remus knew that saying such a phrase, even in his own head, was bound to be awful foreshadowing. "That toad of yours—wouldn't it be great if he found himself in the bed of a first-year girl one morning?" asked James with glee.

Remus immediately sobered. He'd been right; it had been foreshadowing. "No. You are not using Bufo to prank someone. They might squish him."

"You're no fun," Sirius pouted.

"Least I don't mumble to myself about what an amazing person I am when I fly broomsticks."

James groaned and punched Remus' arm lightly. "You are an awful person, Remus Lupin," he said, and Remus began to feel tipsy again.

"All right, settle down," said McGonagall sharply. Remus stopped giggling (with much effort) and vowed that he would listen carefully, be a model student, and not make any sudden movements whatsoever. "Today we are going to be discussing transforming living things," continued McGonagall: "Watch carefully, now."

She pulled her wand out from her robes and pointed it at her desk. The desk seemed to pulse and twist—less than two seconds later, it had fully transformed into a living, breathing pig. James gasped a little from Remus' right. Remus gasped too, but for a very different reason. His chest was beginning to feel tight again... and laughter was no longer the cause of his symptoms.

McGonagall waved her wand again, and then the pig was once more a desk. "Brilliant," James muttered. McGonagall heard him, but she granted him a tight, pleased smile instead of reprimanding him.

Remus felt a little ill.

"We won't be doing anything like this until the end of the year, when we transform mice to snuffboxes," said McGonagall. "Living transfigurations are extraordinarily difficult. I'd like to discuss the theory, though. Open your textbooks to page eighty-one."

Remus did not move.

"Come on, Rem," said James. He reached over and flipped Remus' textbook open for him. "Are you ill or something? This is so cool!"

Remus did not think so.

McGonagall lectured and wrote on the board in chalk; Remus heard James scribbling notes on a piece of parchment fervently and Sirius teasing James for taking notes like a "dumb schoolgirl." Remus was amazed that he could hear anything, though, given the ocean noises dominating his ears.

The image of the poor pig, his legs folding in, his bones melting and reforming, his whole body turning to wood in the span of a few seconds, the odd liquifying of his pink body... it would not leave Remus' vision.

He vaguely heard McGonagall stop lecturing. "Mr. Lupin, are you quite all right?"

Remus shook his head to rid it of the ocean noises. He realized too late that it had seemed that he had been shaking his head no to McGonagall's question.

"What's wrong, then?" McGonagall said (somewhat uncomfortably). Remus noticed that she was not looking him in the eyes; instead, she was staring at the wall behind him. He did not point it out. He didn't have the presence of mind to care much.

"Er," said Remus. He needed to ask. He needed to ask without giving himself away, but he didn't know how. "Er, Professor..." He tried to come up with just the right phrasing, but the quest was fruitless. It was useless. Remus decided—against his better judgement—to throw caution to the wind.

"Did that hurt the pig?"

McGonagall's eyes narrowed, and Sirius snickered under his breath. Remus realized that Sirius thought that he was joking; trying to waste time so that the class would have to do less work... Remus decided that Sirius' assumption was better than the alternative, so he let a weak laugh of his own escape his lips. It sounded very forced, much to his chagrin.

McGonagall's features suddenly softened, and Remus hoped with all his heart that she did not realize why he was asking. Who was he kidding? Of course she realized why he was asking! In her eyes, the fact that he transformed into a wolf every month was his defining trait.

"No, Mr. Lupin," said McGonagall slowly.

"How do you know?" Remus said, pushing his luck. He had to know. "I mean, it's got to hurt. Pigs' skin isn't meant to turn into wood. Pigs are very different from desks... their bone structure and all. And desks are inanimate objects. Why wouldn't it hurt? Pigs are... pigs. Not desks..."

Remus mentally slapped himself. Here he was, admitting to McGonagall that the transformation every month was literally torture. He felt his cheeks grow red, and the ocean noises returned with vigor. "Just... just wondering, that's all," he said, and faked another laugh in order to keep his cover in front of his peers. He didn't think that it had worked, but perhaps...?

McGonagall seemed to be thinking very hard. "That... is a good question, Mr. Lupin. Compassionate, and with sound reasoning." At long last, she looked him in the eyes, and Remus looked away in spite of himself. "Ten points to Gryffindor." It seemed that all the points that Remus was receiving for Gryffindor were out of pity. Remus felt ashamed, even though he knew that shame wasn't the proper response to earning points for his House.

"I think I can take a few minutes to explain the answer." McGonagall walked up to the blackboard and erased it as she spoke. "There are a few different types of magic, as you've learned in Defense Against the Dark Arts. There's light magic, and then there's jinxes, hexes, and... curses." Remus noted her hesitation and tapped his finger under his desk anxiously.

"Transfiguration spells are known as light magic purely because they are not harmful in nature. They do not hurt the transformee because they are designed as such. Spell design is a complicated process, as is the process of Transfiguration itself. It takes much focus and intention; unintended consequences, therefore, are very rare. We will only use light magic in this class, Mr. Lupin. You don't have to worry about any of the spells harming the recipient in any way—in fact, I go through all of the half-transformed or badly-transformed animals myself after every class and correct the transfiguration. No animals will ever be harmed in my class... unless a student is not careful and steps on a beetle during our beetle-to-buttons unit in second year. That has, I'm afraid, happened before."

Some of the students giggled. Remus knew that they were laughing at the beetle comment, but he felt as if they were laughing at him... he sunk lower in his chair ever so slightly. He hated talking about—or even alluding to—his transformations. "That makes sense, Professor; thank you."

McGonagall was now carefully studying Remus' face, which was even worse than the previous awkward avoidance. Remus tried to look nonchalant. After a very uncomfortable moment (that was probably less than three seconds, but felt like three hours), James raised his hand. "So there are types of Transfiguration that are Dark, and do hurt the subject?" he asked, and Remus froze. He mentally begged McGonagall to avoid the subject. Maybe if he thought hard enough, he would discover himself to be a Legilimens...

"Yes, Mr. Potter, but we will not be learning about such magic in this class," she said. "I don't believe that magic like that is ever acceptable. Most Dark Transfigurations, though, work by... by forcing the recipient to transform without magic... as a biological process... rather than a magical one. It is complicated, and you may research it on your own if you so desire."

Remus winced. I've done enough practical research to last me a lifetime, thanks.

"Thank you for the excellent question, Mr. Lupin. Have I satisfied your curiosity?"

"Yes, Professor," Remus said quietly. "I do believe that I shall be able to transform pigs to desks morally from now on."

The class tittered, and Professor McGonagall allowed herself a forced smile before continuing the lesson.

Remus vaguely wanted to transfigure himself into a pig. The life of a pig, he thought, would be much simpler than that of a werewolf.

"That was brilliant, Remus!" said Peter as they left Transfiguration. The Marauders stopped on a bench to converse for a bit (and to feed James' ego; James seemed to relish people looking at him).

"You looked so nervous, though!" said Sirius. He clapped Remus on the back, and Remus jumped as he felt Sirius' fingers on the six-year-old scar on his left shoulder. James chortled at Remus' supposed fragility. "You don't have to be anxious, mate. That was clever—you managed to derail the class, make a joke, and get points for it!"

"Ten whole points," said James. "How many have you earned for Gryffindor? Twenty?"

"Eighteen point seven-three," said Remus. "Ten from Questus, ten from McGonagall, point-seven-three from Questus, and then Questus took two away."

"What?" James looked nonplussed. "When did Questus give you a fraction of a point? When did Questus take points away?"

"Was that when he kept you after class?" asked Sirius.

"No..." Remus figured that he'd better tell part of the truth, at least. As long as it hadn't anything to do with werewolves, what harm could it do? (Besides the fact that he was still horribly embarrassed about the whole thing, that is?) "After I got scared and... took a walk around the castle... away from Peter..."

"When you abandoned me, distraught, in the dormitory," Peter corrected.

"Yes, that... I saw a Boggart and got rid of it. Questus saw me do it, and he invited me in for tea. We talked. I made a bit of a disrespectful comment and he took two points away... but then I asked him what would happen if he added point fractions and he wanted to find out."

"Blimey, that's brave," said Sirius, and Remus felt a stab of pride. "What was the comment?"

"It wasn't that clever," said Remus. "He was trying to invite me for tea, and he said that he had tea in his office. Then I said, 'That's nice, I'll be heading back to my dormitory then.'"

James snorted. "He should have given you two points, mate. Wish I had been the one to say that."

"Questus is terrifying," said Peter. "I would never say something like that to him."

"Back to the Boggart!" said Sirius, talking over Peter. "You have a Boggart at home, don't you? Garrison, was it?"

"I do." This subject was a lot easier for Remus to talk about.

"How does that work?"

"Well, Dad studies him. Recreationally, of course—he works for the Ministry now, but he used to be a freelance Boggart researcher. Garrison lives in a cupboard downstairs, and occasionally Dad will let him out and see where he goes. So every so often I open a closet downstairs or turn a dark corner and he jumps out at me."

James chuckled. "What's your Boggart, then?"

Remus paused. He could not tell James that his Boggart was the full moon. But if there was one Boggart roaming around Hogwarts, there was bound to be another... what if they saw? He had to pick something that looked like the full moon—at least a little. "A... crystal ball," he said in a sudden moment of inspiration.

"What? Why?"

"Have you heard of Oedipus?" Remus felt very clever.

"Of course," said Sirius. "Killed his father, married his mother."

Peter and James looked very disturbed.

"He... married his... Remus, Sirius, what kind of people do you know?"

"Greek mythology," Sirius explained. "Mum thinks they make good bedtime stories. I was messed up for life at an early age." So was I, Remus thought in spite of himself, except my monsters were more than stories.

"The important thing is," said Remus, "the story tells of a prophecy that Oedipus was determined not to fulfill. He even moved away in the hopes of getting away from the prophecy. But every attempt he made of running away from fate brought him closer to fulfilling the prophecy... and eventually, the prophecy came true because of his very attempts to avoid it. That makes it what they call a self-fulfilling prophecy." Now for the tricky part. "I just... I don't know. Prophecies scare me. The fact that you could know what will happen and then not be able to do anything about it... I guess it's not the crystal ball itself that I'm afraid of... it's the fear of the... inevitable."

Yes! Remus had never felt so incredibly clever in his entire life. He didn't like to lie... but that had been a lie to rival any lie ever told. And now, if they happened to see his Boggart, it would pass for a crystal ball in a pinch unless they looked very closely.

"Huh," said Sirius. "That's weird. I've never met a Boggart, but I hope that my Boggart is cooler than a crystal ball."

Remus rolled his eyes. "At least mine is mysterious and metaphorical." It wasn't, actually. It was quite literal. "What are you scared of, then?"

"Some of the people that Mum has over for supper creep me out," said Sirius. "People into Dark magic. Wannabe Death Eaters... dumb name, if you ask me. So maybe one of them. One of the Carrows? The Selwyns? Or maybe even Mum and Dad; they're right terrifying." Sirius chuckled. "They don't like violence, Mum and Dad. But they approve of Voldemort, I think. Or at least his ideals. That scares me a bit. Or maybe Voldemort scares me most. I don't know, but whatever my Boggart is, it's definitely better than a dumb orb of glass..."

"I'm afraid of millipedes," Peter offered. Sirius wrinkled his nose.

"But they're so tiny. And kinda cool. All those legs. And they don't even bite!"

"The legs are exactly why I'm afraid of them! I'm also afraid of Banshees. And Red Caps. And werewolves. And vampires. And mermaids. Have you ever seen a mermaid? They're scary!"

Remus' blood ran cold at the mention of werewolves. What if werewolves really were Peter's greatest fear? Poor Peter would be scarred for life after finding out that he had slept in the same room as one!

"I'm scared of werewolves too," Remus said as casually as possible, trying to gauge just how afraid of werewolves Peter was. He dreaded bringing up the topic, but he felt that it was necessary. "They're pretty big."

"Being afraid of werewolves in wolf form is for idiots," said Sirius. "You really have to be afraid of them in their human form. They look just like anyone else. They'll trick you, draw you in, and then when you least expect it..." Sirius curled his hands into claws and growled at Peter, who flinched.

Remus' hands were shaking, so he stuck them in his pockets. His friends were going to kill him when they found out. "What do you mean when you least expect it? They only transform on the full moon. So if you're careful around the full moon, you'll be fine."

"I thought you said you were scared of werewolves," said James. "Are you defending them?"

"No!" Remus could feel his whole world crumbling apart. What was the point of the crystal ball lie if he couldn't keep himself afloat now? Why had he brought up the subject? "I just... Sirius called me an idiot. So I'm defending myself, not werewolves." Technically, Remus thought, to do one is to the the other. But he wouldn't think about that! He had to play his part convincingly. He was a regular, human, Hogwarts student... a regular, human, Hogwarts student...

"Fair enough," Sirius said. "But you clearly don't know much about werewolves, mate. I know plenty; Dad works at the Ministry and sees them all the time. And trust me, they're just as dangerous in human form. Dad said so. He said he saw Greyback once, but I don't believe him. Why would Greyback be at the Ministry? That's ridiculous."

You clearly don't know much about werewolves? Remus wished that he didn't know much about werewolves! He stuck his hands in his pockets to stop the shaking. He had seen Fenrir Greyback, too, although it had been a very, very long time ago. "I've read about him," Remus whispered. "Is he as scary as he sounds?"

"Ah, I don't believe Dad at all," said Sirius. "Dunno why he'd be at the Ministry in the first place. But the way Dad described him was terrifying... long nails and sharp teeth and all that. Maul a man to death in broad daylight, he could. Apparently they use him to threaten people who won't join the Death Eaters. Say they'll sic him on you if you don't comply."

Remus knew that. He knew that all too well. "I'm going to the toilet," Remus said quickly. "I'll catch up with you later. That sounds horrible, Sirius. Hope they catch him soon. And Peter, I hope you get over your crippling fear of millipedes." Sirius guffawed, and Remus was relieved that they did not say anything about his pale face and quivering hands. Perhaps they weren't as noticeable as he felt they were.

Remus rushed down the corridor and entered an empty stall in the nearest bathroom. It was blessedly empty. He sat on the floor, even though he knew it was unsanitary, and his his head in his hands. His face was burning, but his hands were blissfully cool (a bit clammy, but Remus didn't care much). It had been such a long, emotional day. What was he doing, why was he there, who even was he, why was he so idiotic and cowardly, why was he even a Gryffindor...?

"Someone teasing you?" came a watery voice coming from the stall to his left. It sounded a lot like a girl, even though boys' and girls' voices were often similar at Remus' age. The odd thing was, though, this girl did not have a scent. She did not breathe. She did not have a heartbeat. Truth be told, Remus was more than a little weirded out. The mystery, however, was a welcome distraction from the torture of his own thoughts.

"Erm... you're not a boy, are you?"

The girl giggled. "No. Are you blind or something? This is the girls' loo."

Remus felt his face go red—even more so than it had been previously, in fact. He stood up quickly. "I'm so sorry!" More embarrassment: that was just what he needed.

"It's all right," said the girl dully. "No one come in here anyway. I think they're afraid of me." She let out a long wail and made a splashing sound. Remus hoped that she had not fallen into the toilet.

"Are you... all right?" Remus opened the stall door cautiously. He didn't see, smell, nor hear anything... but mere moments later, he felt an odd chill run through him. The girl had just appeared behind him... and walked through him. She was a ghost.

Hurrah, just what Remus needed: a dead person trying to talk to him who could walk through walls! That wasn't about to raise his discomfort levels one bit.

"I'm Myrtle," she said, and her voice was shaky from apparent tears. Remus didn't blame her; he might cry too if he was stuck in a girls' loo for eternity. "Who are you?"

"Remus." Remus did not want to converse. "I actually... need to get back to my dormitory..."

"Remus! Lupin? The teachers have talked about you, you know..." Oh, no. Another person... well, ghost... that knew of Remus' condition.

"Have they?"

"Yes. You're the werewolf."

Remus hated the way he flinched whenever the word was spoken. "Myrtle, it's a secret. You mustn't tell a soul," he begged.

"Oh, I won't." Myrtle lowered her voice, and seemed to be talking to herself. "Emotional. Thin. Handsome. Quiet. Werewolf. What's not to like?"

"Excuse me?"

"You're pretty good-looking, for a first-year." She batted her eyes. "You know, I'm only about three years older. Technically. Don't think about it too much."

"What?" A very bad feeling was blooming in the pit of Remus' stomach. He decided to take a leaf out of Questus' book and be as blunt as possible. "Do you fancy me or something?"

"Ooh, straightforward. I like that in a man."

Remus wasn't sure whether this was the most hilarious or the most humiliating thing to ever happen to him. "I'm afraid it won't work out between us," he said, stifling laughter (or tears; he wasn't sure which).

"Whyever not? Two outcasts, a forbidden love, bonding over tears and bullies. It's like something out of a romance novel..." Myrtle sighed dreamily, and Remus wanted to vomit.

"Well, you're dead," he said, as politely as possible, "and I'm a werewolf."

"And?"

"And I'm leaving Hogwarts soon anyway." Because there's no way my secret will stay secret for long, what with the way that things are going...

"You're welcome to stay. Grow old here, die here... share my toilet..."

Remus tried not to snicker. It was rather funny. "No thank you. I'm eleven and not quite ready for a long-term commitment."

"Well, come back in a few years if you're uncomfortable," said Myrtle with a wink. "I'm not getting any older."

Remus laughed nervously. "I'm sure you can do better than me," he said. "I'm not even human."

"Neither am I. I'm a ghost."

"Er." She had a point. "I'm not interested in dating."

"We don't have to date. We can just get married straight away..."

Remus decided to come right out and reject her. "I'm sorry. I don't like you in that way. And I've only known you for a couple of minutes. But... we can be friends."

Myrtle paused, and Remus watched as her eyes filled up with tears. "Oh. I see how it is. Myrtle is dead, no one wants to be with Myrtle... not even a werewolf. You couldn't stand being with me forever, could you? I'm too annoying. Too depressing. Too weepy."

"No, that's not it! I just wouldn't be very good at having a relationship. And I don't want to stay at Hogwarts forever."

"First I get teased, then I die, then I get rejected by a heartless werewolf... My life is the worst!"

"Your life?" Remus regretted the comment as soon as it left his mouth.

"My death!" Myrtle wailed and dove into a toilet. Remus felt immensely guilty.

He did, however, feel a little better now that his mind was cleared of Greyback and images of his friends wanting to kill him and broken glass and blood and fur and prejudice and hate.

He wiped his eyes and departed the girls' loo, happy, at least, that he now had something to discuss with his friends that had nothing to do with werewolves.

Boy, were James and Sirius and Peter going to get a kick out of this.

AN: That's the SECOND time that poor Myrtle found a Dark creature in the girls' bathroom.