Note:
Thank you so much, SweetieCherrie, and DoctahG, for following the story! I am so excited to see so many readers showing up—seriously, you all makes my life so much brighter, even when all I have is your country to go by! Again, thanks to une-papillon-de-nuit for your review of chapter three!
I just wanted to note that I did decide to change the casting of Dumbledore starting with this chapter, the same shift that was undergone in the movies, just to maintain some continuity, there. You guys might think the transition between the two actresses I've provided for Alice is a bit choppy-I've gone from young Mackenzie Foy to Anya Taylor-Joy-but I hope it's not too confusing, and that if you are imagining the actors I list in the cast as you read, you approve of the choice. Let me know how you feel!
Additional casting note: While David Thewlis is the actor cast as Remus Lupin in the films, he is quite a bit older in the third movie (released in 2004) than the actual fictional character Remus would have been when the book takes place (1993). Also taking into account that Prof. Lupin's birth year is 1960 and Thewlis's is 1963, I've found a film that would show Thewlis at Remus's age at the time this chapter takes place. (If you can't tell, I care a little too much about continuity). If you're looking for an accurate visual, look up the 1995 film Total Eclipse. I think this look matches our Remus perfectly, if you ignore the hairline and the premise of that film, itself.
I'll also put it out there that the actor Domhnall Gleeson (who happens to be the son of Brendan Gleeson, who played Mad-Eye Moody, which is kind of neat) could totally be Remus, too, and is actually the actor who was in my head in terms of appearance while I was writing this chapter. So, if you're more partial to him… Just putting that out there.
Okay, this author's note is officially too long! Let's get on with the story!
Disclaimer: All recognizable characters herein are the property of J.K. Rowling the Utmost Venerable.
Special Disclaimer: When Dumbledore told Remus "Help will always be given at Hogwarts to those who ask for it," this was a direct quote from J.K. Rowling's work. Also, the part detailing Remus's backstory when he first enters Dumbledore's office is paraphrased from his Pottermore page.
Chapter Four Totally Optional Cast (in order of appearance)
David Thewlis / Domhnall Gleeson . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Remus Lupin
Sir Michael Gambon . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Albus Dumbledore
Anya Taylor-Joy . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Alice
Kathryn Hunter . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Ms. Figg
Anthony Hopkins . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . The Kidnapper
IV | Lone
Early Spring 1993
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry / Privet Drive
Albus Dumbledore re-folds the latest letter from Arabella Figg and sets it down on his desk with a sigh. Outside the tall windows of the headmaster's office, the morning sky is streaked a salmon pink. A small group of black birds rises from the bridge and flies away over the rolling highlands.
The room is warm despite the cold season and hour, but a chill goes through the old wizard's bones—accompanied by a dark inkling about events yet to pass, one of many such premonitions which have plagued him recently.
Fawkes the Phoenix ruffles his feathers and chatters quietly on his perch across the room, and prompted by the show of restlessness, Dumbledore's thoughts shift to the troublesome events which have plagued the school over the past year—events tied to the Chamber of Secrets. And then, just as soon, his worry paves a pathway back around to the anxious words of Arabella Figg, still fresh in his mind from the letter he'd received earlier and had procrastinated in reading.
He's received plenty of letters laced with insecurity and anxiety from the woman, but this one had set a precedent of legitimate concern. As a non-magical person, she'd claimed, she simply cannot help young Alice any longer—either in terms of her magical development, or her bitter isolation. 'She needs a magical companion,' the woman had written in a shaky hand, 'and a teacher. I understand your stance on not having her at Hogwarts will not shift, but, Albus... I beg you to figure something out, for both our sakes.'
For minutes on end, the headmaster paces slowly around the room, looking out the mullioned windows over the grounds, uncomforted by the warmth of his familiar surroundings. He watches as the Whomping Willow shakes off its newest layer of snow in its winter morning ritual, fog laying over the Forbidden Forest and the lake in the distance.
But his pacing and nerve-fraying worry are soon interrupted by the sound of stone purring as the staircase into his office starts to move. Dumbledore seats himself down in his chair awaiting whoever his visitor may be. But when the staircase curls into view—along with the man standing on the second-to-last step—he stands up again, directly.
Remus Lupin nods to the headmaster, averting his gaze as he maneuvers his lanky, six-foot-two frame into the entryway of the office. There's a thin, harried look to him, his face tired and peaky, cut across by an old scar. He is thirty-three years of age, but looks much older standing there huddled in his worn, tweed jacket, carrying a carpetbag which contains all his possessions.
"Remus," breathes Dumbledore.
The addressed looks up for a split second and then returns his gaze to his tattered shoes. He'd promised Dumbledore that he would be prompt for their scheduled meeting two days before, but he'd been nervous, and put it off, then putting it off for a second day out of embarrassment for not showing up. He makes a mumbled apology, trying to formulate a sensical strand of words, but incapable—he'd suffered his monthly transformation on the eighth of March, just a week before, and his mind and body both have yet to banish the resulting exhaustion.
Even as a younger man, he had been hard pressed to recover in fewer than three days, but lately, the difficulty has been perpetuated by other circumstances that cause a strain on his existence. In the past years, he's lost three friends and both parents, and has lived hand-to-mouth, jumping between menial jobs to survive, and to avoid being found out because of his monthly 'illnesses.' Already he lives in a constant daze, but the recovery period after transformations has slowly grown, and he fears that, soon, if something doesn't change, he will be rendered inept in all areas of his life.
And this is why he has finally convinced himself to arrive in Dumbledore's presence this morning.
Nearly a minute has passed, now, since the headmaster spoke, and Remus Lupin tells himself silently that he ought to say something in order not to be too awkward. "Professor Dumbledore," he manages.
But with the name comes a wave of sudden warmth, better than a fresh hot butterbeer, or a thick, heavy blanket after returning from a cold nighttime stroll. All at once, the guest remembers who it is he is standing before, remembers the role the older wizard has played in his life. A collection of warm images float through his head: Dumbledore, knocking on his parents' door when he was just shy of eleven years old, playing Gobstones with him before the fireplace, and inviting him to Hogwarts, promising to provide him with a safe place to undergo his monthly transformations in Hogsmeade. Dumbledore, with a few simple words and a smile shrouded by a then-grey beard, opening up Remus's entire world, leading him into a new reality where he no longer had to live in fear and shame, a reality where he had friends.
The awkward spell of initial silence gone, Remus Lupin walks across the room, hindered only by the exhaustion in his legs, climbs the three stair steps to the main level of Dumbledore's office, and embraces his old headmaster like a boy might embrace his father after coming home from a long and arduous journey through the biting cold world. Remus is also the one to step out of the embrace, before he has a chance to start crying.
"Please," Albus says, the early morning light filtering through the white strands of his beard. "Sit down, Remus."
He does, and Dumbledore follows suit soon after. Remus looks both large and miniscule sitting in the chair. Dumbledore's eyes flicker to a bowl of Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans serving as the centerpiece on his cluttered desk. "Care to take a gamble?" he says, gesturing to them.
"Thank you, sir, but I haven't had a sweet in ages," says Remus, the words coming more easily, now. "I believe even the Vanilla Ice Cream flavor wouldn't sit well in my stomach, let alone Dirty Sock." He looks up, making an effort to sit straighter, and considers the old wizard across from him. "You look quite different, headmaster," he says sensitively.
Dumbledore smiles and leans forward, as though passing along a secret. "I could say the same of you, Remus," he says with a wink. "And please, call me Albus. You've more than earned it."
Remus attempts a smile but knows it looks like a grimace, and quickly pockets again, letting face relax. He knows what he's come here to say; knows what he needs to say. But he suddenly doesn't want to say it—wishes he were somewhere else.
"You can just ask, Remus," says Dumbledore gently at length. "Please, don't be so tense. Seeking help is never something to be ashamed of."
But though his words are a comfort, Remus can only shake his head. "I'm sorry, Professor—Albus. I shouldn't have made arrangements to meet, in the first place... It's an entirely absurd request." By now, his inner turmoil has started to sting so much that he considers standing up and fleeing.
But Dumbledore stops him with a fatherly but disabling look over his half-moon spectacles. "Please, Remus. Help will always be given at Hogwarts to those who ask for it."
Dumbledore expects that the younger wizard's purpose here is to request Wolfsbane, which would ease the monthly process of his transformation, enabling him to stay within a locked room for the duration of the full moon, without risk of causing harm to others.
So the headmaster is surprised when Remus finally works up his courage and says: "I'm here in search of a post."
Dumbledore raises his eyebrows slightly.
"I know," says Remus, words tumbling over each other. "I shouldn't have even considered—"
But the headmaster interjects. "No. That is a perfectly reasonable request, and one that I am overjoyed to hear. But it was, indeed, unexpected." The old wizard settles back against his chair and considers Remus for a moment before a smile pricks at the corner of his mouth. "I have a feeling," he says with a glint of amusement in his eye, "that there will be a professorial post opening up next year."
Remus had not intended to mean a post of that level, and is shocked to learn that Dumbledore would so soon put such amounts of trust in him. He opens his mouth to protest, but the headmaster raises a finger.
"Until then, however," Dumbledore continues, "there is an errand of particular import, which I've been looking for someone to send on. And I think, Remus..." he considers him again for a moment before nodding his head in agreement with himself, "I think that you are just the wizard for the job. You see, I received a letter, this morning-" he picks it up, holding it to the light "-from Arabella Figg."
Recognition flashes in Remus's eyes, and he reaches out to take the folded parchment from Dumbledore when it is offered to him. Quickly, he reads it over, then looks up and says, "What is this? Who's the girl?"
"Alice," the headmaster explains, "was rescued from the house of Nott-" another flash of recognition behind Remus's eyes, laced with memories of the boy who had bullied him in school, who had grown into one of the Dark Lord's Death Eaters "-rescued from the house of Nott on the night of her birth. Since then, she has stayed under Arabella's guardianship. She is very gifted magically... but there are other factors, Remus, which keep me from bringing her here for school."
"How old is she?"
"Nearly fifteen." Remus's eyes widen. "Yes, Remus," admits Dumbledore, "I feel terrible about it, as well. She has been confined her whole life to that house on Privet Drive."
Remus nods in understanding of the situation, putting his trust, as usual, in his past headmaster and lifelong mentor. "Is she acquainted with Harry Potter?" he asks, aware of the proximity to Ms. Figg's home to Number Four, Prive Drive.
A small smile asserts itself to Dumbledore's face. "I imagine so," he muses. "But-" his eyes darken again "-Harry is here for more than half the year, leaving her quite alone."
The headmaster doesn't say so aloud, but Remus picks up on the silent implication: Remus knows a thing or two about feeling cast out, too. And though he's never met this young and isolated witch Alice, he feels an immediate sympathy towards her.
"She needs help," Albus says, "coming back to herself. Understanding her relationship with magic. Remus, I wish you would do this favor—both for me and for the girl. And, really, for yourself. If you would accept."
"Of course I accept," says Remus, quickly, allowing his instinct to settle the case for him, before insecurity can carry him away.
"Not to say," Dumbledore says, picking a candy bean from the bowl, "that I wouldn't simply delight in having you here at Hogwarts next year. But-" he places the bean in his mouth, smiling: he's picked a pleasant flavor "-I do have one condition for you, Remus."
"Of course, Professor," says the younger wizard. "Anything at all."
Dumbledore smiles and tilts his chin down, peering at his younger companion over his spectacles. "Quit those awful muggle cigarettes."
After an uncomfortable beat, Remus's shoulders relax and he agrees to the bargain with a nod. "I will."
Dumbledore smiles, his whole beard moving up. "Well, then. Two problems solved at once." Remus stands from the chair, Dumbledore following. "Do yourself a service..." Dumbledore advises. "Find the Room of Requirement and get some sleep before you depart. You're in no shape to safely apparate."
Remus Lupin expresses his intense gratitude, assuring the headmaster that he will do just that, and after a deep nod of his head, he descends the magical staircase, which turns downward in its magical spiral until the man is out of sight.
On the other side of the circular office, Fawkes bursts suddenly into flames. Dumbledore watches a moment until the ashes settle and, from a little pile of them, a baby phoenix emerges, bright eyes looking around, considering the world. The wizard smiles again to himself and sits down at his desk to pen a response to Ms. Figg.
She receives the letter by way of the chimney on the seventeenth of March, Alice's fifteenth birthday. The arrival of the letter is quite an event, and once Ms. Figg has consented to let the girl read it, it comes to overshadow the gifts she'd bought for her in celebration of the day.
"I believe," the headmaster of Hogwarts had written in the letter, "that not only will young Alice benefit extremely from Remus's mastery of magical skill, but you will both surely delight in his company."
The girl is overcome by a constant wave of extreme excitement. It's hard to believe, all the way up to the minute he knocks on the door, and beyond. They are to have a boarder. And not only that, but a magical boarder—one who has been tasked with teaching her magic.
Remus Lupin arrives two days after they receive the letter. He is a lanky man, too saturnine for his age, and he shows up on Ms. Figg's doorstep at the civil hour of eleven, wearing patched clothes and carrying a single suitcase, hair appropriately unkempt. He is the most tired and sad-looking person Alice has ever seen, and for a moment she is slightly unnerved by the sight of the thin scar cutting across part of his face.
But he musters a smile for her, when he looks down at her and holds out his hand for shaking.
The girl has to think back to a television program she'd seen, in which this gesture had been made, before she can remember what she is supposed to do. But when she does remember, she smiles shyly, reaching out her own hand and shaking his cautiously. Her first handshake. He is the third person (after Ms. Figg and Harry) who she can ever remember touching, at all.
"My name's Alice."
"Hello. It's very good to meet you. I'm Remus."
"And you must be very exhausted," says Ms. Figg. After a few mumbled words and transitions, she shows him up to the second floor, and to the guest room.
The cats, who had scattered into their hiding places upon the stranger's arrival, emerge again once he has gone upstairs. Alice and the four of them stand there for a few minutes, considering, a suppressed excitement bubbling over into an uncontainable glee in the girl's heart.
Their guest sleeps all through the afternoon and into the evening. When Ms. Figg has almost finished preparing the evening meal, Alice wanders into the backyard garden. Over the years, she has learned to control the flowers, so that they only grow as high as her knees, and are contained within one corner of the yard. But it is just as beautiful and diverse as that original garden which she'd unintentionally created years before, flowers which have no business growing in that soil or climate, flourishing under her magical supervision.
She kneels down on the grass, aiming to change the color of one of the many blossoms, spurred on to try controlling her magic further, eager to try and impress the visitor. But even after staring and straining at one particular flower for what seems hours, there is no change in hue—not even the slightest discoloration—and she frowns in disappointment at herself.
When Ms. Figg calls her in to sit down for dinner, she refuses to go with her pride shred completely, so she plucks a few delicate flowers from the ground (new stems and buds quickly growing back in their wake), compiling a little bouquet for the visitor.
Remus comes downstairs just as Alice is filling a little crystal vase with water and setting it and the bouquet in the middle of the dining table, to serve as a centerpiece. Standing on the final stair, the wizard smiles as he is reminded of his mother Hope, and how she would always do little things like that, to make their hope as beautiful as possible, since he was so frightened of going outside as a child.
"Those are very beautiful," he says to the girl. "Where did you get them?" He follows the direction of her pointer finger out to the backyard, where he sees a garden flourishing—but not dangerously so-in the corner. "I see," he says, raising an eyebrow slightly to indicate to the girl that he knows she was the one to grow it—and not with muggle seeds and a trowel.
As they seat themselves at the table, Remus thanks Ms. Figg profusely for the meal, making it impossible for her to deflect his gratitude. They tuck in after Ms. Figg has formally welcomed Remus at the table.
Over dinner (which starts off quiet—not awkward, but full of unsaid things, full of the knowledge of how much is going to be said, and before too long) Lupin brooches the subject: "I take it Harry Potter lives across the street in the summers."
Alice looks over and up at him with wide eyes and a questioning mouth, and the wizard quickly sees that what he'd hoped would be a cautious and casual segue into conversation had been anything but. "You know Harry?" says the girl in disbelief.
"I know of Harry," says Remus with a smile, looking across at Ms. Figg, whose eyes have darkened slightly. "Everyone knows of Harry."
Alice feels a wave of confusion tumble over her, so intense that black spots start to bloom in her mind. Remus looks at her, sensing her consternation, and realizes that he'd overstepped a line. But it's too late to retreat, now.
"Why do they?" says Alice.
"Arabella..." says Remus at length, looking across the table at the woman. "May I?"
After a moment of hesitation, Arabella realizes that this is the end of the line—there is only so much she can keep from the girl for so long—and she nods her head yes, starting to clear the food from the table.
"I'll start with Harry's parents," Remus says, leaning back in his chair and offering Alice his full attention. "I knew both of them very well, Lily and James. They were my best friends at Hogwarts."
"You went to Hogwarts?"
"Yes, of course," he chuckles. "Everyone goes to Hogwarts." (A beat—he realizes that he's just slighted her, and reminds himself to be more considerate. His job is most definitely not to isolate her further). "Sorry. They were friends of mine in school, and later on we fought alongside each other in the war-"
"The war?"
Remus's eyes widen and he looks into the kitchen at Ms. Figg, but she refuses to look back at him. He figures that, yes, if the girl hadn't yet been told about her true origins, than she wouldn't have been told about the war, either. He chooses at that moment to omit Death Eaters and the Nott family's involvement from the storytelling—that will be for another time.
"I will go out to retrieve a Wizarding history book or two for you in due time," he says to Alice, "but for now, this will suffice. He gathers a breath, and begins his diluted story.
"The Wizarding War began at the height of Voldemort's power—he was a very dangerous wizard, who once attended Hogwarts, like the rest of us. He desired domination and dominion over other beings over all else, and to purge the wizarding world of 'Mudbloods'—wizards or witches with both mixed magical and muggle (non-magical) blood. His actions drove our world—and the muggle world—into a state of panic. The horrors lasted many years, which I won't go into now. But it all came to an end in late October, twelve years ago. Voldemort—He Who Must Not Be Named—heard of a prophecy, foretelling that a boy born at the end of July would defeat him. Driven further into madness, he went to Godric's Hollow, where the Potters and their son Harry—whose birthday, as you know, is the thirty-first of that month—were living. He killed James and Lily, and tried to kill Harry... but when he tried, he couldn't. Harry was still alive, and Voldemort-the most powerful wizard known to our kind—disappeared."
Ms. Figg has long ceased making noise with the dishes in the kitchen. A quiet falls over all of them, but especially Alice, taken up in the chilling glory of hearing the legendary story for the first time.
"Where did he go?" she asks after a long moment.
Remus can only shrug his shoulders. "We don't know. Some say he died, some say..."
Alice looks down at her plate, no longer hungry. Silently, inside her yead, she pieces all of it together and understands that her friend who resides at Number Four across the street in the summertime is something much more than he'd been letting on. For an infant child to defeat such a powerful, dark wizard, was not a simple feat.
"He's famous in our world," Remus says, interrupting Alice's inner waterfall of questions, springing up from her new knowledge. "I think it might be understandable that he wouldn't tell you about his origins," he says gently. "I imagine he might find refuge in having a friend who doesn't know all that about him."
Alice nods her head in understanding—but she isn't worried about seeking empathy with Harry at the moment. Suddenly, with Remus Lupin, comes a cosmic enlargement of her world, both frightening and empowering. Her head is pumped so full of questions, fears, insecurities and excitements that it feels like she is going to explode...
But instead some of the lights flicker, and after a few stuttering clicks from the bulbs, all the lights go out at once, leaving them in total darkness, apart from the twilight coming in through the door to the backyard. Alice holds her breath in embarrassment at this display of magical immaturity.
Ms. Figg's voice comes to her from the kitchen, comforting. "Remember the breaths we talked about," she says to her.
Alice inhales slowly, holds the air in her lungs, and then lets it out with a light tingling sensation in her head. In, hold, out. Until the lights, one by one, flicker on again.
Remus considers the girl's face, impressed by the level of power she's just displayed—but also saddened; reminded of his own younger self, when he had experienced such difficulty controlling his emotions, being totally overcome by them. That is something, he figures, he still hasn't grown out of, and doubts he ever will.
Alice feels her cheeks grow red from embarrassment, and promptly she distracts herself by forcing her face to brighten. "What are you going to teach me first?" she says eagerly to Remus, her manufactured excitement quickly turning into genuine eagerness.
"Alice," Ms. Figg says softly in a quiet reprimand.
But, "That's alright," Remus says. "I planned... not to teach you anything yet. To sit back and observe for a bit beforehand." The girl's face falls in stages. She can't imagine being subjected to such embarrassments over and over again, for who knows how long. "I can tell you're very eager," he says, "and that's wonderful. But I really can't teach you anything until I have an idea of who you are."
"Won't I need a wand?" Alice says, the argumentative part of her rearing up, though she's still wary of Remus Lupin, the third person she's ever really met.
"Eventually, you will," he answers patiently, "but I think it would be best for you to harness your raw powers on your own, before trying to channel it through a wand. It would be dangerous to you, and to everyone around you, to jump into that so quickly."
The girl forces her disappointment to dilute herself and smiles inwardly when she realizes she'd done so without making so much as a single light flicker. Something about the wizard's presence makes her feel understood and at rest. "Okay," she agrees.
After helping Ms. Figg with the dishes, the woman suggests that she go up to bed. Alice feels a hint of annoyance at this, but doesn't argue, and controls her magical reactions. She finishes cleaning her plate and then bids both Ms. Figg and Remus goodnight before ascending to her room. Long into the night she stays awake, straining her ears to hear the two of them speaking in low voices in the kitchen, but she can't make out any specifics, and before too long, sleep takes her under.
The next morning after breakfast, Remus asks to see Alice's garden. She obliges him, and goes out into the backyard, him following, bringing his glass of water with him.
"The flowers are wondrous," he says to her. "How did the garden start?"
Alice wants very badly to lie, and to tell him that she'd had total control over their growth from the beginning. But she has a feeling that he would know if she wasn't being truthful, and so she tells him the story. "I was just sitting outside one day and suddenly flowers came up all over the whole yard. They grew very fast, and in just an hour they reached up over the gate. Ms. Figg was scared that the neighbors would see, and so I got nervous, too, and a bit later, the flowers just went away-" she snaps her fingers "-like that."
Remus nods his head up and down slowly. She looks up at him. "Would you please teach me just one spell?" she says quietly after a minute.
"I'm sorry, Alice," he says carefully. "I won't. Not yet."
Though his words had been kind, Alice had set her heart on learning something instantly upon his arrival, and her disappointment had only built over last night, after what he'd said over dinner. Suddenly, before she even knows what's happened, her piercing disappointment and anger has made the glass in Remus's hand split into pieces, which fall to the grass.
Her upset feeling is all at once replaced by worry that the wizard might be upset at her about the broken glass—his hand isn't cut, but there is some water on his clothes. However, he doesn't address the accident in that way, instead approaching it as means to prove his point to her. "Look," he starts, keeping his voice measured, "your potential is entirely uncontrolled."
"I have control!" she says through gritted teeth, some of the broken pieces on the ground fracturing even further.
Remus looks down at the shattered pieces between his shoes, and looks back up again, wearing a light smirk. "Do you, now?"
"Yes," Alice asserts. "All through this summer I made a notebook fly across the street to Harry's window, so that we could talk without leaving our houses-which our guardians wouldn't let us do-and it didn't fall. Not even once."
"Well, that's very impressive," says Remus carefully but firmly. "But what if I were to tell you that you could only control that notebook so perfectly because accomplishing that task was necessitated by your loneliness?"
Alice's eyes widen slightly—he can see directly through her. Now she's really listening.
He continues: "When witches and wizards start out, magic only serves us in times of need, like an instinct, or a safety net. Of course, if you were isolated enough, and desperate enough to communicate with Harry, then your magic would step up and enable you to reach your goal. It was the same way with your garden. Ms. Figg was afraid that the neighbors would see, so you became afraid, too, and the flowers disappeared. If you need it enough, you can have control over something, some of the time. Magic can be a form of self-defense. But I am here to give you control over everything, all the time." He takes a breath, and chuckles at himself. "Well-over all the things a person can expect to control."
Alice's shoulders sink a little bit, looking down, embarrassed that she had doubted his method now that she understands what he's been getting at.
But Remus smiles at her, and pulls his wand from his pocket, piquing her interest. "Look," he says to her gently, before turning his attention to the broken glass on the ground, and flicking his wand at it. "Reparo," he murmurs.
Alice gasps in wonder as the glass suddenly mends itself back to its original form, not even a trace of the break in the glass. Remus leans over and picks it up, suddenly admiring the uses of magic, as he witnesses Alice's wonder. "Easy to take it for granted, after a while," he says to himself.
"I'm sorry," Alice says, still staring in glorious shock at the perfect glass.
"There's no need," Remus says. "Look." He holds the glass up to the morning sun. "Good as new." Alice, the burden lifted from her heart, smiles widely at him.
At first the process of controlling her power is arduous and exhausting. More than once, when trying to adhere to some of the subtle guiding points he's given her for harnessing her emotions, she's broken down completely and all the lights have gone out at once. Once, the radio station that is playing dissolves into static and smoke starts furling from the machine.
"When you're angry," he says, using yet another hypothetical to guide her mindset in the intended direction, "instead of letting the table set itself on fire, direct your anger towards the fireplace and let the fire start in a controlled place, instead."
In theory, visualizing her magic as magic that was going to take place, anyway, and visualizing herself as the person who is responsible to moving it to a safe location, is helpful. But in practice it feels impossible to implement.
Over the first week and a half, it seems to both of them, that every piece of advice he gives her is counterproductive. Alice finds herself becoming more angry and distressed, and more frequently, than ever before. In just nine days, she's broken twenty glasses, caused two radios and one telephone to stop working, and set her bed on fire twice. All four cats have been in consent hiding, and haven't dared show themselves in the open.
But then, on Lupin's eleventh day in the house, it finally works. Over dinner, Alice feels a twinge of anger ebbing at the corner of her brain, and suddenly, instead of breaking one of the water glasses on the table, she causes the ice cubes within to fracture and split into smaller pieces.
At first she doesn't believe it. Experiencing a powerful emotion has only ever come hand in hand with disaster. But now, for the first time, she's experienced the emotion—and vanquished it, too—with absolutely no harm done.
She stares at the broken ice cubes in wonder, and slowly a proud smile dawns on her face.
"Excellently done," says Remus.
On the first day of April, he leaves.
At first, Alice is under the impression that he is going away permanently. "You've accomplished so much," he tells her as he packs his clothes into his small suitcase and starts down the stairs, Alice following at his heels, distressed. "You're going to go on to learn great things."
She takes this to mean that he isn't coming back, and says, "But why are you going so soon?"
After realizing his mistake, Remus assures her that he will return in just over a week.
"Why?" she asks.
"I have business with someone in the far north."
"How far north?"
Ms. Figg gives her a harsh look, warning her not to pry, but Alice ignores it. The three of them are standing in the backyard, now, the morning dew fresh on the grass. Remus leans down, motioning for her to come closer, and whispers mysteriously in her ear: "Siberia."
He draws himself up again and gives her a meaningful look, smiling as he bids Ms. Figg farewell. "Keep working!" he says to Alice, before, with a snap, he apparates and is gone.
Over the next week, she is burdened by the feeling that he had been joking when he told her he was going to Siberia. She knows it isn't really her business where he's going, but still, the idea that he would say something so obviously outrageous to her makes her feel upset; and as though he thinks she is immature and childish—two things she most definitely does not want to be.
But she tries to put the thought out of her mind, and works instead on controlling her magic, so that he might be impressed with her when he comes back... if he comes back.
But return he does, just over eight days later. He seems exhausted, but she is relieved to have him back regardless, relieved to know that even if he did joke to her about Siberia, he hadn't abandoned her entirely.
With him he brings a thick stack of books for her to read, on magic spells, theories of magic, and the history of the Wizarding World. For his first three days back, he remains confined to the guest room, not coming out at all, sleeping, she assumes, exhausted from a long journey—to and from wherever it was he went. She takes advantage of the time to read through every single one of the books, gobbling up the words and wand motions and illustrations of historical events—infinitely more intriguing than those detailed in muggle textbooks.
But what proves much more interesting than the contents of the books themselves, is something she finds wedged in the pages halfway through Bathilda Bagshot's "A History of Magic." A piece of parchment which she soon reasons was not intended to be left there and seen by her eyes—a map.
Upon it she sees a map of Britain, the Netherlands to the east, and the shape of Siberia sketched even further to the right before it disappears off the parchment. On it are drawn many stars, one in London, another in Scotland, the third in Oslo, then Helsinki, and countless more dotting the far northern coast of Russia, all the way up to a point on the far northern tip of Siberia, on a remote island in the Kara Sea, the end of the line. Alongside each star is written a short list of words, seeming to describe specific sensory details of each location... Within one of the books Remus gave her, she read about the art of apparition, and can conclude that these words must be the words he thinks of when he apparates to each specific spot on the map, to ensure a safe journey.
At first, the girl feels bad that she'd doubted him. But soon a curiosity takes over, and she starts to wonder at the fact that he'd told her the truth about going to Siberia. Who could he have possibly been meeting all the way out there, on a deserted, freezing island? Was there some community of witches and wizards there, who hide their existence from the muggle world by means of magic? Was a wizard he knew hiding there for some reason?
The map soon sets off a chain reaction of questions, ideas and theories that crowd her brain all day long, and intensify to a feverish pitch in the isolated minutes before her body crashes into sleep at night.
Soon, though, she has to give it up. Remus comes out of his guest room finally, and incorporates himself into the workings of the house once again. She returns the books to him, and says nothing of the map.
As the control she has over her magic grows steadily, so does their companionship. Alice feels spurred onward to improve by a desire to impress Remus—she feels a deep interest in him, and an attraction, too—not an infatuation (but, perhaps, this is only because she doesn't know what to call the feeling, yet).
Regardless she begins to do better and better as time goes on, improving vastly and with great speed. Soon, she can make things hover at will, turn the water faucet on and off, and more. Remus is a superb teacher, but guiding Alice's extreme power does take a lot out of him, and by the end of every day he feels his mind becoming frayed from tiredness, in addition to his own troubles, slowly leaking into the haven he's found here on Privet Drive.
He'd been impressed when Alice had given him back the books so quickly, her thirst for knowledge proven by how quickly and thoroughly she'd read them. But that happiness had been taken over when he found, stuck in the middle of "A History of Magic," the map he'd created for his apparations. He must have placed it there and forgotten to remove it before giving the books to her. Though Alice hadn't said anything about it, he is sure that she had seen it. He knows that she'd scoured every page for information and knowledge, and skipping over the map would have been an impossibility—but he holds onto the hope that, perhaps, she had thought it might have been someone else's parchment, left there, and lacking any connection to him and his travels.
On the last day of April, one month later and the night before he will have to leave them again for the week of the full moon, Remus steps outside into the backyard to smoke a cigarette.
Despite his determination to quit them before taking up a post at Hogwarts in the coming fall, he hadn't been able to avoid taking along one or two, in case of an emergency. And tonight, he caves into his need, and lights one using a muggle lighter, looking up at the stars from the backyard, pondering his circumstances as he feels the nicotine swirling in his lungs.
Before long, however, he hears the sound of the door opening, letting out the sounds of Arabella Figg busying herself in the kitchen inside the house, and quiet footsteps on the grass behind him as Alice approaches.
He turns around to face her slightly, and she walks up to stand at his side. "I shouldn't be doing this," he confides to her, gesturing to the cigarette.
"Why not?" she asks, looking at the curious white cylinder between his fingers. She's seen cigarettes only on television and the fact that Remus has one in real life only adds dimension to his already intriguing and multi-faceted character, in her eyes.
"Because these are very, very bad for you," he says, taking another drag hypocritically. "And Professor Dumbledore told me to quit them, if I want to take a post at Hogwarts next year."
A little drop of disappointment fills her throat-in the garden, some of the heads of her flowers droop. "Are you going to take it?" she asks softly, not wanting to imagine going through another year alone.
"If I can stop smoking these nasty little buggers," says Remus.
"Give them to me," Alice suggests with a sly smirk on her lips. "I'll hide them from you."
He looks down at her with a raised eyebrow. "I know that mischievous look. I wore it once, too. You'd try one, wouldn't you?" Her wide grin is all the answer he needs. "Well, you're not allowed to have them."
"But when can I?" she says, suddenly feeling threatened by the possibility that he might still find her immature.
"Never," he says with finality. Her eyebrows furrow. "Fine," he laughs, noting her expression. "When you come of age in two years," he says, "I'll owl you one. But hopefully, by then, you'll take my word for it, and throw it away."
"Why would you owl it and not just hand it to me?" she retorts with a smile.
"Because by then," Remus says, whistling out a wisp of smoke and looking up at the inky sky, "you won't be needing me, anymore."
But what he's really thinking is that, just maybe, in two years, he might not be around at all. He feels a strange kinship, almost an attraction, to the girl... and suddenly, uncomfortable, he drops the cigarette onto the cool grass, and leaves it there, escaping into the house before Alice has a chance to start relying on him. He knows that, eventually, something is going to happen to him, and the thought of leaving her devastated in any capacity is too much for him to handle.
Alice looks after him as he goes back into the house and then, considering, kneels down and picks up the cigarette from the grass, still sending up a curl of smoke. She places it against her lips and quickly sucks a breath of air through it, as though it were a straw.
On the stairs inside the house, Remus can hear her startled coughing, and he stifles a smile as he shuts the door to the guest room.
The next morning, Alice wakes up early, hoping to catch him just in time and say goodbye—but he has already left.
Most of May passes, and again Remus is preparing to depart for Siberia in three days' time.
The pattern has not been lost on young Alice—he leaves at the beginning of each month for the week surrounding the full moon, and is invariably exhausted when he returns. She has started to wonder if, perhaps, it has something to do with the moon itself. She's read about muggle cults that mimic old pagan ones, the original 'witches,' and so thinks that maybe he goes up there every month for some sort of strange ritual. She still has so many questions, but doesn't ask any of them, for fear of offending him. But also, mostly, because she doesn't want him to know that she'd seen his map at all. Something about the thought of Remus thinking she'd obstructed his privacy in any way is distressing to her.
Alice is out in the garden, sitting with her legs crossed and staring with utmost focus at the flowers. At will, she makes some grow, and some shrink. She makes them wilt, and then brings them back to life. The rising and falling feeling of the magic inside of her as she does so makes her feel at peace, and she comes to let the flowers droop and freshen with each exhale and inhale.
The girl smiles, comforted by the sound of Remus and Ms. Figg conversing softly in the kitchen, the door between the house and backyard open to let in the nighttime breeze.
Now, she can make the flowers change any color she can imagine. She thinks back to the first day Remus had been with them, how she'd wished she might give him a bouquet of flowers whose colors she had controlled. Now, she has the ability to do so, the utmost freedom, thanks to him. She decides that she should make him a bouquet to take with him on his next journey, as proof of her progress and appreciation... but what colors to choose?
A slight breeze weaves through the grass and the blossoms, and one that seems unmatched with the regular breezes of the night, but she pays it no mind, lost in her thoughts and the sight of the flowers changing at her will.
But her concentration is certainly broken when, from directly behind her, comes an unfamiliar, low and menacingly gentle voice. "What a lovely garden," it says with a sadistic purr.
She can only turn around halfway before the man lunges to grab her, and takes her around the wrist, his hand squeezing so hard that she can feel her bones, veins and muscles grinding against each other dangerously, just before her hand goes suddenly numb.
She screams: high, loud and sharp—more from the pain than from the surprise of her attacker's presence, which, on its own, might have rendered her mute. One scream is all she gets before he pulls her closer into his strong frame, clamping a heavy hand down over her mouth and stifling her chance at another shout—and, she soon realizes, at taking a breath.
But just as the strange man grabs her, Remus suddenly appears in the doorway to the house, and, raising his wand, shouts "Immobulus!" rendering the kidnapper frozen in place.
Alice writhes in the clamping, tight grasp of her immobile almost-captor, her vision obscured by a handful of steadily growing black spots as she panics and struggles to breathe. Remus runs across the yard to her and, with much effort, helps Alice to get unstuck from the man's grasp, holding her by both shoulders and looking into her eyes as she coughs violently and fights to regain her breath.
For a moment she believes herself to be alright again, but when her head turns and she is accosted by the dangerous man's frozen, mirthful eyes, she bursts into panicked tears. Remus quickly identifies the trauma to her wrist, and, gently holding her arm, murmurs "Ferula," suddenly conjuring a bandage, which winds itself around her wrist and forearm, securing her shattered bone in place, and easing her pain slightly. "That should hold until later," he says, as much to himself as to her.
"Alice!" Ms. Figg gasps, only now reaching the two of them after a more stunned and stumbling journey from the kitchen and across the backyard. The woman quickly reaches for the girl, and Alice crashes into Ms. Figg's arms, allowing herself to be squeezed, still feeling the chilling gaze of the kidnapper on the back of her neck.
Remus looks gravely into the immobile eyes of the perpetrator, the dustier gears in his brain dedicated to the art of survival slowly churning into motion.
"Right," he says aloud, his instincts taking over, urging him to take what control there is to be taken, and to do what must be done—an order from his own subconscious which he cannot disobey. "First stop: Ministry of Magic. We're going to have to drop this nasty bugger off in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. And then we're headed straight to Hogwarts."
"For gracious sakes, Lupin, this instant?" protests Ms. Figg, though she knows his words to be the best course of action. They must go now, or they will be in danger of being found by others, either surrounding muggles (a number of nearby dogs have already started barking howling at the disturbance caused by the event), or other wizards and witches who may have been in arms with this man, and might follow after him if he doesn't return promptly.
"Arabella, please, his counterparts could be preparing to apparate this very moment," says Remus, reinforcing what the woman had known to be true.
Alice, swept up in the rush of the past minute, takes an additional moment to catch up with the two adults' conversation. But when she does a new wave of horrified adrenaline seizes control of her body. She watches as Remus grabs ahold of the collar of the man who had almost taken her, and as Ms. Figg takes Remus's hand.
"Alice, dear," says Ms. Figg to the girl, holding out her hand. "Hold it tightly or you might be swept off to who knows where."
"Are we-"
"Apparating, Darling," interjects Remus. "Please, Alice, hurry."
"Take my hand," says Ms. Figg.
Alice's eyes grow wide, and she takes one last look at the house on Privet Drive as the legitimacy of her imminent departure dawns on her. She had always yearned to escape the house and the street, to escape muggle life and take wing into the Wizarding World—but now that the moment has actually arrived, she is terrified to leave.
Slowly, she turns her head away from the lit-up windows, turns away from her garden in the corner, and takes her guardian's hand tightly in hers.
A brief snap of light. A slight unnatural breeze ripples through the empty backyard.
Spells used in this chapter:
1. "Reparo," the mending spell
2. "Immobulus," which causes the victim to become... you guessed it... immobile
3. "Ferula," a bandaging charm which temporarily splints any broken bones and also eases pain
Sorry for updating a bit later than the usual hour—academic writing is a necessary evil.
Also, this chapter was really long. I hope your brains aren't fried. Mine certainly is! Now that I think about it, please let me know if you would prefer shorter chapters! They might be easier on the brain, and, if so, I would be happy to oblige. But I can't read your mind, so... let me know!
I have twisted the usual course of things in this chapter: usually Dumbledore seeks Remus out to offer him the post before Harry's third year. Clearly, in my version, it didn't play out this way. I hope this is a forgivable change-I don't believe Remus's decision to approach Albus instead of the other way around changes his fundamental character too drastically. On a similar note, at the beginning of the chapter, Dumbledore was not technically supposed to be at Hogwarts. But, again, not detrimental to my storyline, so I'm okay with breaking the rules a bit.
One fun fact, though, that I did get right: Ms. Figg's cats are not 100% cat, but also part Kneazle. Kneazles can live upwards of 70 years if owned by traveling witches or wizards, but when kept at home they can still live around 20 to 30 years. So, if you were a bit taken aback by the fact that Snowy, Mr. Paws, Mr. Tibbles and Tufty are still alive and well in this chapter, that was the reason why.
Please, please, please, PLEASE review... Really, I will love you forever (even more than I already do).
Next time... we are finally OUT of Ms. Figg's house... Wizarding World, here we come!
Thank you for not plagiarizing my writing!
On_Errand_Bad
9,029 words
Thursday, 15 October 2020