3
Defense Against the Dark Arts
Author's note: I might not be able to create compelling characters like Rowling can, but by golly I know how to look at a calendar. I looked up the moon phases of 1993 to write this story, and discovered that they didn't match Rowling's story in Prisoner of Azkaban. For example, in our world, the full moon rose over Scotland at 6 pm on September 1, when Lupin either would have been on the dementor-delayed Hogwarts Express, or when he was supposed to be at the Welcoming Feast. From this, I'm assuming that moon phases are different in Rowling's world, and I'm trying to figure out what they were from the clues she gave us, although her lunar month doesn't even seem to be the same length as ours, which makes my Arithmancy job difficult. This is my roundabout way of warning my readers not to look too closely at a calendar when reading this story or, indeed, Rowling's.
Speaking of inconsistencies, this is intended as a basically canon-compatible fic, but I've taken some liberties with a few scenes, so I guess it's a very slightly alternate universe.
He had to prepare his syllabus and at least start outlining lesson plans for all seven grades, including O.W.L. and N.E.W.T. levels, which had to prepare students for the standardized tests. Notes from his predecessor would have been helpful, but a visit to St. Mungo's Mental Maladies ward in hopes of obtaining them was unsuccessful. His predecessor's predecessor was dead. In fact, Dumbledore couldn't provide contact information for anyone who'd taught Defense Against the Dark Arts for the last several decades, and advised Lupin that attempting to find out what had become of any of them would be a waste of his valuable time, considering how little time he had left. The school year would start September first.
Lupin got out his lunascope to check. Damn. September first was two days after the full moon. Well, it could be worse.
On the plus side, Dumbledore gave him an enormous advance for buying classroom supplies. Many required special permits from the Ministry of Magic for their purchase and shipping. Fortunately, Rubeus Hagrid, the Hogwarts gamekeeper, seemed quite willing, even eager, to care for the various dark creatures Lupin would be using for demonstrations, and was happy to sign for and receive them.
Detection of and defense against cursed objects, jinxes, hexes, curses, dark creatures... Why the three unforgivable curses are classified as such... The mathematical beauty, logic, and strategy of dueling could fill an entire course and then some, but he hoped to cover at least the basics...
If he kept himself busy enough, he had virtually no time to think about Sirius. Of course, if anyone was going to figure out how to escape from Azkaban, it had to be Sirius Black. Even as a child, his strength as a wizard had been obvious. It wasn't just his raw magical power, that had made Remus wonder if there really was something to this theory of pureblood supremacy, no matter how much Sirius scoffed at it. He had brilliant intelligence to match, which annoyingly gave him the ability to ace every test without studying. He'd instead spent his time playing pranks and watching girls fight over him. The creativity of him! The reckless audacity! The lies, oh the lies! He could get anyone to believe him at least once, and most, shockingly, believed him multiple times. He'd lied on Remus's behalf more times than he could count, getting him out of trouble, generally after having got him into it.
No. Remus had lots of preparations to make, and would not wallow in the past. How was he getting to Hogwarts?
He hadn't been to Hogsmeade for years, and so didn't feel comfortable apparating there, as he didn't trust his memory of the terrain. His fireplace wasn't hooked up to the floo network, but he could apparate to a public house with a networked fireplace, and then floo to the Three Broomsticks in Hogsmeade, then walk to Hogwarts dragging his trunk, which he could lighten with spells, if he had enough magical power left... Or he could take the Knight Bus...
No. He'd take the Hogwarts Express. His memory of that bright red train was so happy, he could have used it to cast a patronus. He and his friends dragging their trunks in search of an empty compartment, Sirius and his little brother Regulus ditching each other as fast as they could, Sirius extravagantly buying candy from the cart for all his friends, waving aside all protests; "It's not my money, it's my family's. I don't deserve it any more than you do. No one ever gets what they deserve. Just eat candy while you can."
The present day came crashing back. James wouldn't be biting the heads off chocolate frogs, Peter wouldn't be sniffing suspiciously at his Every Flavour Beans, Lilly wouldn't be calling them pigs and telling them to clean up their candy wrappers. Even Regulus wouldn't be pretending he didn't know them. They were all dead.
Of the passengers laughing in that train compartment, only Lupin and Sirius had survived. And who else of his old class was still around? Severus fucking Snape, that greasy git. That was all the evidence needed to prove Sirius's point that no one gets what they deserve.
Deep breaths, Lupin. Sirius had hated Severus. You were wrong about Sirius, maybe you were wrong about Severus too.
It didn't take much magic to make the house he'd been using look derelict, an empty shell not worth looting. Some distraction spells were enough to repel any curious explorers, and if anyone did get in, or bulldoze this house as an eyesore, no loss, really. He was packed. He was ready for Hogwarts. He left his trunk by the front door, ready to go, feeling that same tingle of excitement he hadn't felt since he was a schoolboy.
One convenience of this house was the secure, windowless basement. He headed down there now. He locked the door behind him, with locks both mechanical and magical, colloportus, and walked down the steep stairs. He reinforced the silencing spells he'd cast last month.
He wrinkled his nose at the smell. If the proper owners of this abandoned house ever returned, they'd conclude that a wild animal had broken in to this basement and used it as a den. They'd be right.
He put a water bottle, the cap slightly loose so it wouldn't take too much strength to open it, and a bar of chocolate, on the small table next to his cage. This month, he'd actually had money from his advance pay to buy a small bottle of dittany, so he placed that on the table too. Then he took off his clothes and put those on the table.
In the middle of the basement was an iron cage he'd fashioned out of a car he'd found abandoned in the yard. He'd used magical force to reshape the metal, but not transfiguration, as he'd been concerned his transfigurations might not hold if his magic faded. The cage was just big enough for him. He climbed in, and locked the door behind him with both key and magic. He was momentarily concerned that he saw rust on the bars, but was reassured when closer inspection revealed that the discoloration was just dried blood. He reached through the bars to carefully place the key and his wand next to the chocolate on the table.
Now there was nothing to do but wait. The trouble with leaving plenty of time was that now he was alone with his thoughts, which ran along their well-worn paths in his mind, as deep and permanent as his scars.
He looked down at his pale, slightly shivering body, which was a view he usually tried to avoid, but now there was nothing else to look at. A few of his scars were from the war, courtesy of various Death Eaters he'd fought. He remembered how he'd acquired each one of those. The rest of his scars, the majority, he didn't bother keeping track of. They just multiplied every month. He didn't look at them if he could avoid it, and he didn't subject anyone else to the sight of them either. Lupin closed his eyes.
Remus opened his eyes. He lay in his comfortable four-poster bed, stuffily enclosed by draperies in Gryffindor red, listening to whispers. Did his dorm mates imagine he couldn't hear them?
"Shh!"
"Be quiet!"
"He'll hear us!"
"No he won't!"
"I don't think this is a good idea."
"You're too nice."
"No, I'm just afraid he'll get back at us for this."
Remus kept his breath steady, as if asleep, but such subterfuge seemed like overkill against these opponents.
He was ready when a dungbomb, fuse smoking, appeared in a gap between the draperies. He plucked it from the boy's fingers, swept the draperies aside, jumped from his bed, opened the window, flung the dungbomb out of Gryffindor tower to explode harmlessly on its way down, and slammed the window shut. "You'll have to try harder than that," he scoffed.
"Good Godric!" said James.
"Salazar's serpent!" said Sirius simultaneously.
James and Sirius looked at each other.
Peter ran to the bathroom and was noisily sick.
The dungbomb didn't smell that bad, did it?
Then Remus realized. It was a warm September, and he'd slept in just his shorts. His new dorm mates could see his scars. Remus bolted back between the draperies of his bed and burrowed under the covers, listening to their tense breathing, smelling disgust.
"What the hell happened to you?" said James.
He'd been so, so stupid. He shouldn't have slept like this, no matter how hot he was.
"You look like you were attacked by a bloody crocodile," continued James. "I'm sure there's a good story there. Sirius, we'll really have to up our game here. Anyone who could survive that isn't going to be phased by a few pranks with dungbombs."
"It wasn't a crocodile," said Sirius. Remus hardly recognized his voice, as it didn't sound playful at all.
"Dragon, you think?" guessed James. "Young dragon? What? Remus, you've got to tell us. I'm sure this is a story that would do Godric Gryffindor proud."
"You were close, with crocodile," said Remus, thinking fast as he reached an arm into his trunk to grab some clothes. "It was an alligator. My family went on holiday in Florida—"
"It wasn't an alligator," said Sirius, just as seriously as before. "Some of those scars look old, but some look fresh. This is ongoing."
"You've got a pet alligator?" said James. "Wicked! Doesn't seem like a really good idea, though, even I have to admit. Have you told Hagrid?"
"James, an alligator didn't do this!" insisted Sirius, sounding angry. "There's only one thing that could leave marks like that. His parents have been abusing him!"
Remus's mind was chaotic. Was that a believable story? Did he want it believed? His parents loved him, and he them. Despite expert advice that they put him down years ago, they'd allowed him to live, and they often reminded him of that. He couldn't let anyone insult them.
"You're out of your mind," said James. Maybe it wasn't a believable story after all. Remus had no idea what other kids' parents did. He'd never had friends before. "Parents would never do something Ike that," James said firmly.
"But if they couldn't afford woundless whips, though?" insisted Sirius.
There was a pause after this. "What?" James finally said.
"They're probably expensive," said Sirius. He hadn't been in school long, but he'd already learned that quite a lot of his possessions were what other kids called "expensive," which meant that other kids couldn't have them because of money or rather the lack thereof. Sirius was constantly amazed at how many items fell into this category. "But James, your family's well-off. So of course when your parents punish you, they use woundless whips, so you don't get scars like that, right? I mean. Leaving scars is abuse. Right? What? What? Why are you looking at me like that?"
Remus was very tempted to peek between the draperies around his bed and spy on his dorm mates, but they seemed to have forgotten about him for now, which was how he liked it, so he stayed hidden.
"Those are illegal," James said eventually. "Those are torture devices. Sadists use those to torture their victims, inflicting more pain that people could normally feel without passing out or dying."
"Well, yes," said Sirius. "Parents wouldn't kill their own kids, so of course they'd have to use something like that instead. If they could afford it. Do you think Remus's parents can't, that's why they have to inflict real injuries? Maybe we could buy them some better devices—"
"What the hell are you talking about, Sirius? Parents don't whip their kids." James sounded absolutely certain on this point.
"Well, they shouldn't use real whips and things, of course not," said Sirius. "That would scar. But the magical ones that inflict pain without causing physical injuries— Peter, back me up on this!" Remus heard Peter cautiously coming out of the bathroom. "Injuries like that, like what we just saw on Remus, that's what it feels like when you're being punished with woundless whips and stuff, right? Except Remus's parents must be using real ones. They must not be able to afford the magical ones. His mum's a muggle, so maybe she can't even use the magical ones. Peter, tell James! He's acting like he doesn't have any parents."
The room smelled like confusion, fear, and anger.
"Um," said Peter. That apparently was all he had to say.
"Your parents use magical torture devices on you," said James, as a statement, not question.
"Well. I mean usually they have the house elves do it," said Sirius, sounding quite uncharacteristically awkward. "It doesn't scar. Look. No scars. So it's not abuse. Not like Remus. Can we get back to talking about Remus already?"
"We're talking about you right now," said James.
Remus allowed himself to breathe.
"Sirius, this isn't normal. It's not right," said James.
"Well what are parents supposed to do when their kids are bad?" demanded Sirius, sounding furious.
"My mom talks to me," said James. "She says she's disappointed in my behavior, but she knows I can do better. And my dad takes away my broom sometimes."
"I used to get spanked," volunteered Peter. "Not anymore though, 'cause now I don't get caught. James is right, Sirius. Your family's just weird."
"But... Well of course, you're good kids. I deserve it. I'm a bad kid. I'm evil," insisted Sirius.
Peter laughed. "You're not evil. You're eleven!"
James spoke with absolute certainty. "This is wrong. We need to tell a professor, McGonagall or Dumbledore. They'll fix this. Let's go."
"What? No!" said Sirius. "You can't."
"We're going," said James. "Come on Peter. Are you coming with us, Sirius?"
"But you don't understand about my family," protested Sirius, "They're very powerful," but their voices were fading as they left.
Sirius could make anything about himself. He was wonderful. Remus might as well not exist. Remus finished getting dressed and crept out of bed unnoticed.
As his memories beat their usual tracks through his mind, the moon was pulling on Lupin's bones. He could feel it through the basement walls, through the earth, moving inexorably up to the horizon. He felt it appear in the sky, sending one thin beam of its malevolent light, which shattered every bone in his body, twisted his flesh, reforming him into the wolf as his human screams of agony turned to howls.
He tried to run, stretch his powerful wolf legs, run in the glorious moonlight, but he slammed into iron bars. On all sides, above, below, slam, slam, slam, he was trapped. He wanted to hunt, to eat human flesh, drink human blood, to bite and bite and bite, but he was trapped. He howled in frustration. He slammed against the bars again and again. If only he could take a running leap, build up some momentum, he'd be able to hit the bars really hard and possibly break them, but his cage was so small, he had no room to maneuver. He tried to gnaw through the iron bars, but infuriatingly, they were spaced so he couldn't really bite them properly.
He howled, then pricked his ears, listening desperately for answering howls, but heard nothing through the silencing spells enveloping the basement. He howled again and again, but received no answer. His pack was gone. He was alone.
He paused to scratch his ear with his hind leg, too hard. His claws were sharp. The smell of blood, even his own, maddened him. Blood, blood, he must have blood. He bit his front leg in frustration, and the sensations of pain and flowing blood filled his mind. He gnawed. It wasn't human blood, but had some similarities. It would have to do.
When the moon finally slipped below the horizon, the wolf howled in agony as his bones all shattered and his flesh twisted. His howls turned into hoarse human screams, then silence.
Damn, his right arm again. Lupin reached his shaky left arm through the bars for his wand and cast Vulnera Sanentur, left-handed and with his scream-ravaged throat, on his right arm until the deep bite marks were closed enough that he could use a wand and key with his right hand again. Allohomora and the key unlocked his cage. He crawled out, and cast Episkey and other healing spells on his assorted claw marks, tooth marks, and bruises until he was rid of some of his pain and all of his power, and his wand felt like just a dead stick in his hand.
His shaking right hand put down his wand and reached for the chocolate bar, and water for his sore throat. He'd completely forgotten about the dittany. Well, once his hands were steady enough that he could trust himself not to spill it, he'd heal himself with that too. Time for a break now, then more healing spells when he had the energy for them. He'd take most care with his face and hands, as he had to at least look presentable by tomorrow, for tomorrow morning, he would once again board the Hogwarts Express.
—-
He arrived early enough to find an empty compartment. He had been foolish to think of enjoying the ride. His friends were not there, and wouldn't be sharing exaggerated tales of their summer adventures. He didn't need Sirius to buy him overpriced candy from the cart. He could buy his own damn chocolate now, and had come prepared with Honeyduke's finest in his pocket. Well, at least he could enjoy a nap, which he sorely needed. He closed his eyes.
Sirius's grey eyes searched platform 9 and 3/4 until they locked with his. "Remus, are you all right?"
"I'm fine," Remus said automatically.
"You're not fine, you've had another one of your episodes. I'm not letting you drag your own trunk, don't be ridiculous. Wait here, I'll go get a compartment for us." Sirius loped into the train, long black hair rippling behind him like a pirate flag. He was back soon. "I found one. It just had a few first-years in it, and they were easily removed." He patted his wand in its sheath and gave a mischievous grin. "Now only this wand can unlock it. It's all ours." Then he levitated Remus's trunk, and his own, herding them into the compartment he'd reserved. Showoff. Remus trudged behind him. Sirius himself looked rather thin and pale, Remus thought. Well, if he'd been ill over the summer, he'd apparently recovered, as he was blazing with his usual energy.
"Keep an eye out for James and Peter," Sirius said. Remus obediently looked out the window. He felt Sirius's gaze on the back of his head. Remus didn't feel he had the strength for Sirius's intensity right now. He'd lost a lot of blood recently, and just wanted a nap.
"I did a lot of reading over the summer," said Sirius, in an excited tone that didn't seem justified by his words.
Remus turned to look at him. He'd done a lot of reading too, he always did, but knew that Sirius didn't want to hear about that. Sirius wanted him to say, "What did you read?" so he did. He was surprised when Sirius didn't immediately answer, then figured out his plan.
"You're building suspense on purpose," Remus complained. "Just tell me."
Sirius smiled with his expensive, perfect teeth. "I spent most of the summer locked in the basement," he began.
"What?" shouted Remus.
Sirius looked annoyed. "My parents wanted me to swear an unbreakable vow that I'd ask to be transferred to Slytherin before they'd let me out, but that's not the point of the story."
"Good Godric, Sirius—"
"That isn't the interesting part of the story."
"But—"
"Forget I mentioned it. It wasn't bad. They wanted me to be stuck in absolute darkness, but Regulus snuck a light down, and books, and much more food and water than my parents had planned to give me. It was fine."
"That is not 'fine,' Sirius," said Remus. "That's abuse. If muggle parents did that they'd lose custody of their—"
"That's not the bloody point, Remus!" said Sirius. "The point is I've been doing a lot of reading. My parents have lots of books on all sorts of dark magic. I've learned a lot."
"Oh," said Remus. "So are you going to be teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts this year? I know last year's professor won't be back after—"
Sirius's barking laugh ricocheted around the small compartment. Remus often wished that Sirius had a volume control, like his muggle mother's radio.
"Now that is an interesting idea," said Sirius. "The power to give Snivelus detentions!" He seemed to be considering Remus's joke in earnest, and dismissed it only after a struggle. "No, only a madman would accept a job with a curse like that on it."
Sirius had set that one up. "You have that qualification."
Sirius's barking laugh rampaged around the compartment again. Remus's hands twitched to cover his ears, but he stopped them. It felt good to be with a friend again, particularly a friend like Sirius, and he wasn't going to mess things up by telling Sirius his laugh was too loud. In Sirius's presence, Remus was unimportant. He was just Sirius's minion, not an individual with his own problems to worry about, and that was just how he liked it.
"I'm overqualified," said Sirius. "But that's not the point."
"Then get to the point already," said Remus. "Unless you're planning to milk this one story for the entire trip."
"I read a book on dark creatures," said Sirius. He was looking at Remus expectantly as if expecting him to know what this was leading to.
Remus looked out the window for James and Peter.
"I figured out why you get so ill every month. You're a werewolf!"
Remus felt the world crashing down around him. He'd been found out. He'd no longer be tolerated in Hogwarts. His parents had been right. There was no place for him in human society.
A chill crept over him, a terrible, bone-aching chill, along with despair that said there was no point even bothering to shiver. He'd never be warm again. He'd never be happy again.
Sirius grabbed him by the shoulders and spun him around so they were face to face. He smelled like excitement and Sleekeazy's hair potion. Sirius's grey eyes, very close to his, were full of a mania Remus had seen only on their most daring and dangerous pranks. "That is so fucking cool! I've been sharing a dorm with an actual werewolf! A real live dark creature! I'm so glad the hat sorted me into Gryffindor so I could be with you."
Remus had apparently lost the ability to comprehend the English language. "What?"
Sirius was suddenly awkward, as Remus had never seen him. "I don't mean that's the only reason I like you," he said. "We were friends before. I already knew you were amazing, I just hadn't realized quite how amazing. Why didn't you tell us?"
And just like that, one of his worst memories flowed seamlessly into one of his best memories. Why, then, did he still feel this bone-chilling despair?
Lupin opened his eyes, which made no difference, as the train compartment was in absolute darkness. What it lacked in light, it made up in noise, as rather a lot of children's voices merged into a cacophony of panic and confusion.
"Quiet," he said, and there was silence. This boded well for his teaching career.
A Lumos charm wouldn't be ideal here, as he might need to use his wand for something else quickly, so he cast a small, cool, self-sustaining fire and held it in his left hand. His night vision was better than humans', so keeping the light dim put him at an advantage against human opponents, in case they were the problem here. They usually were.
"Stay where you are," he said to the children. He planned to see if anyone n the corridor knew what was happening, but before he even reached the door, it opened. Who the hell let a dementor onto a train full of children?
Surely it would go away once it realized Sirius wasn't here. Wouldn't it? Instead, with a great sucking gasp—
Remus suddenly heard a knock on his bedroom window. First he froze, then put down his book and went to investigate. He couldn't open the shade because the bars were in the way, but if he poked a quill through the bars, he could move the edge of the shade just a touch. He often snuck glances outside, although he knew his father would be upset if he found out. Outside were fields, trees, and, in the distance, a few other houses.
This time, peeking through the window, his eyes couldn't focus, until he suddenly realized he was trying to focus too far away. Standing right outside the window was a boy! Remus's age, eight or thereabouts, staring at him with shocked blue eyes that matched the sky behind him. "There is a kid in here!" he said triumphantly. "I knew it! Come out and play! I'm so glad you moved here, it's really boring and there's hardly anyone else here. My name's—"
"Obliviate!" Remus heard his father say, and the boy's face suddenly went blank. Through the narrow gap of the shade, Remus saw his father turn the boy around and point him towards a house, towards which he shambled.
"We didn't hide you well enough. We'll have to move again. I'll protect you, Remus, don't worry. No one will ever know I have a werewolf for a son!"
Wow, the dementor had dredged really deep for that memory. Maybe the children on the train had reminded him. Dimly, Lupin was aware that one of the children in the compartment had fainted. Get a grip, Lupin, he told himself in Sirius's laughing voice. He stepped over the boy on the floor.
"None of us is hiding Sirius Black under our cloaks," he told the dementor. "Go."
Th dementor drifted closer to the child on the floor.
Sirius Black, hiding with him under James's invisibility cloak, trying not to laugh—
"Expecto patronum!" said Lupin, brandishing his wand at the dementor attacking James. A silver wolf leaped from his wand to attack the dementor. Damnit, no, he didn't need a full corporeal patronus, a vague silver mist would do, so he scaled back, hoping no one had noticed his patronus's form. The dementor fled.
The train compartment had gained some new occupants as he slept. A ginger-haired girl and a fair chubby boy looked pale and queasy in their seats. On the floor, a ginger-haired, big-nosed boy who reminded him of the Prewett brothers, and a bushy-haired girl he didn't recognize, were staring at James, who had collapsed. No, of course it wasn't James, James was dead, and James hadn't had a scar on his forehead like that.
As Professor Lupin distributed chocolate to his students, he realized that if he carried out his plan to kill Sirius, or even to betray Sirius's secret to Dumbledore, he'd never be able to cast the patronus charm again. It would be worth it of course. Right?