"Exploding Bon-Bon," Remus announced outside Dumbledore's office door the following afternoon. The door swung wide and he entered, ascending the revolving stone steps to the headmaster's office.
Professor Dumbledore would be expecting him, as usual, for their first-of-term chat. Since Remus had what Madam Pomfrey characterized as a "frequently recurring debilitating condition," the school nurse had suggested (and Dumbledore had agreed) that the headmaster and Remus should meet at least twice per term to make certain his mental and emotional health were stable. If Remus or Dumbledore felt that more frequent chats were needed, they could be arranged. Meanwhile, Madam Pomfrey would continue to look after Remus's physical health as necessary. Remus thought he might be glad to talk with Dumbledore some more about what had happened at the Whomping Willow. However, the headmaster was nowhere to be found when Remus stepped away from the stairs into the room.
The Sorting Hat sat on its stool next to Dumbledore's desk. Remus recalled his terror when his turn came at the first-year Sorting. He had been convinced that the omniscient hat, if no one else, would kick him out of school entirely, in front of everyone in the Great Hall. But no, the hat had quickly shouted "Gryffindor!" over the roar of Remus's thoughts, and he had shuffled in a daze toward his new friend Sirius Black, already seated proudly at the Gryffindor table and clapping for Remus. The knowledge that he was here for good had dimly sunk into his consciousness as a smile slowly crept across his face.
As he approached the desk, he heard a small chirrup from the bird situated on the golden perch next to it. The phoenix, Fawkes, was a permanent fixture in Dumbledore's office; and he eyed Remus curiously, as he always did whenever the boy entered the headmaster's quarters. Remus came closer, and the phoenix raised one clawed foot toward him. Remus wasn't certain how to respond to this, but nevertheless he raised his own hand in return toward Fawkes. The phoenix lowered his head and closed his eyes. Remus knitted his brow quizzically as the bird emitted something like a purr from his throat. Sensing that this was an invitation to scratch him, Remus buried his fingers in the thick ruff of feathers on the bird's neck. He scratched and petted the phoenix for a few moments, speaking softly to him, until Fawkes ruffled himself as if to indicate the petting was now over. Several fiery-colored feathers floated through the air, landing on the perch and the floor. Fawkes silently waddled a few paces toward the right on his perch and settled there, still gazing at Remus.
Remus now sat quietly in the upholstered chair across from Dumbledore's desk and tried not to peer too closely at all the gadgets sitting on tables and shelves. He longed to pick them up and examine them, but that would never do. He held his book bag in his lap and gazed around the room. The portraits of the former headmasters scattered along the walls eyeballed Remus without any apparent shame. Some even muttered amongst themselves, seemingly unaware that he could hear them perfectly.
"He looks well," one whispered from the wall behind Remus.
"Surprisingly well, indeed," replied another on Remus's left. "Especially considering what his so-called friends put him through last month. That Sirius Black is a loose cannon, I've always said."
"Don't Lupin's parents have anything to say about the company he keeps?"
"Do werewolves have parents?" one particularly cracked and yellowing portrait rasped.
"Of course they do, you silly old man," a severe-looking witch retorted.
"Then why don't they keep him at home?"
"What has the boy done wrong?" she countered.
The sneering voice of Phineas Nigellus cut in, and Remus cut his eyes toward the imposing portrait. "My dunce of a great-great grandson didn't want his parents' opinion of his friends, either. In my estimation, this half-breed and Sirius deserve each other, and may they rip each other to shreds."
Remus, horrified by the former headmaster's vicious words, spoke up at last. "I can hear you all, you know. I'm sitting right here."
The portraits fell silent and merely stared at him.
"Hello, Remus." From the stairwell behind him, Professor Dumbledore's voice startled Remus and he stood up quickly. "Please, sit. My apologies for my tardiness."
"Not at all, professor," Remus smiled, taking his seat again.
"How was your holiday?" Dumbledore crossed the room, planted himself behind his desk and laced his fingers together, leaning back in his chair.
"Not bad," Remus replied, suddenly not wanting to go into the nightmares that had plagued his sleep. "I was busy."
Dumbledore regarded Remus thoughtfully for a moment. "I thought you might be. Let us see what has absorbed your time these past weeks."
Remus had long ago stopped being surprised when Dumbledore seemed to know what Remus was about to tell him. He opened his book bag and removed a piece of parchment. Dumbledore's eyes widened and he leaned forward.
"My granddad – my father's father – was a cartographer. Still is, from time to time," Remus began, unfolding the thick paper as he spoke.
"Your grandfather wouldn't be Jonathan Lupin, would he?" the headmaster asked, his face crinkling into a smile.
Remus looked up from the parchment. "You've heard of him?"
"The finest wizard's mapmaker in three centuries," Dumbledore declared simply. "Others have aspired to reach his scope and creativity, but none have achieved them. His maps are relatively few in number, but detailed beyond imagination and never obsolete."
Remus flushed and smiled. Within the small world of his childhood, Remus had always admired his granddad; but to hear Dumbledore praise him so frankly sent a thrill of satisfaction through him. Remus's parents had chosen his middle name, John, in honor of Jonathan Lupin; and even today he felt a sense of pride and belonging through that connection.
"Well, this is – will be, that is – a map. Of Hogwarts and the grounds." Remus stood and laid the blank parchment onto the desk between them. "Granddad helped me start it, but there's one more thing I have to do to finish it."
Dumbledore stood and gently touched it with one wrinkled hand. A faint but detailed skeleton outline of the school briefly appeared, spreading like blue veins under pale skin. When he removed his fingers, the lines quickly faded. "Ahh …" he sighed approvingly. "You are using one of your grandfather's spells to complete it?"
"I figured it would be nice to see where the students are before I go into the Whomping Willow. Now that Severus knows –" Remus stopped himself and glanced at Dumbledore.
"You're worried about other students finding out?"
Remus nodded, lowering his eyes to the parchment again.
"I can assure you that your secret is safe with Severus while you are a student here," Dumbledore promised. "But I do think the map is an excellent idea, just in case something were to go awry in future. Besides which, it may prove to be a good exercise for you, Remus. You seem to have inherited Jonathan Lupin's talents."
Remus grinned, embarrassed and pleased by the compliment. He looked at Dumbledore. "Then I have your permission to finish it?"
"By all means. I'd very much like to see it when it is complete." The headmaster's clear blue eyes twinkled. "I'm certain that you and your friends would never use it for mischief?"
Remus felt his cheeks redden. "Sir, I can promise you I'll try –"
"– to keep them in line, yes, yes," Dumbledore chuckled. "Just do your best. You're more of a leader than you realize, you know."
Remus squirmed under the gaze of the professor and busied his hands with refolding the parchment. He placed it back into his book bag.
"You will be tutoring some of the younger students again this term, I presume?" Dumbledore continued, seating himself once more.
"Yes, sir," Remus replied quickly, glad for the change of topic.
"Still for no fee?"
"Well, like I've said, we're both getting something out of it. The students get lessons, and I get practice teaching."
"They are fortunate to have your services," Dumbledore smiled. "Are you still planning a career as a teacher after you finish at Hogwarts?"
"Well … " Remus paused as he sat again. He'd always seen himself as a teacher, but now he wasn't so sure. The news in the Daily Prophet was grimmer each day as Voldemort's disciples gained footholds in wizarding households and organizations everywhere. Nearly all of his friends personally knew of someone being placed under the Imperius curse and made to do the dark bidding of the Death Eaters. Remus swallowed. "I'm thinking more and more that we're going to need a lot of Aurors."
"A wise assessment," Dumbledore agreed. "And you'd make a fine Auror, I've no doubt. But what about teaching?"
"I suppose that could wait. I'm not even certain anyone would hire me as a teacher these days." But what makes you think anyone would want you as an Auror? he couldn't help thinking. "I can't keep my condition a secret forever."
"True, you cannot," Dumbledore agreed, a note of sadness in his voice. "But for now, we shall do our best."
Remus nodded.
"Professor McGonagall would be happy to speak with you about the requirements for becoming an Auror. You have all the prerequisite O.W.L.s for it – Defense Against the Dark Arts, Transfiguration, Potions, and Charms – although your Potions performance in class has been a bit spotty this year, I'm told."
"Yes, sir," Remus agreed, rustling uncomfortably under Dumbledore's benign scrutiny. "I'll work on that."
"Very good," Dumbledore said. He paused, pressing the pads of his fingers together, his eyes narrowing. He seemed about to speak, but he remained silent for a long moment. Before Remus knew it, he was asking the question that had been niggling his mind all Christmas holiday.
"Sir … why do you think he – Sirius – did it?" Remus felt ashamed asking it, as if he were betraying his friend. James and Sirius hated Severus Snape, suspected him of fraternizing with Death Eaters; but why on earth would Sirius lure him to certain doom in the form of death or a werewolf bite? Why would Sirius use Remus in such a horrific way? Although Remus hated asking Dumbledore, he wouldn't allow himself to lower his gaze from the headmaster's.
Dumbledore watched Remus intently. "I asked Sirius this question myself, but he preferred not to share the answer with me." He gazed at Remus for a few seconds longer, then he stood, stroking his long, white beard. "But let us never forget that when wrathful words arise, a closed mouth can be soothing."
Or as Granddad says, Remus thought, it's often a man's mouth broke his nose.