Moony's Musings
Chapter 5
By: Trep092
Disclaimer: If I owned Harry Potter, would I be writing "fan" fiction?
I'd like to thank my beta, Eric's Song for all she does.
A/N: There are direct quotes from The Prisoner of Azkaban chapter 5 "The Dementor" used in this chapter. I claim no ownership of it.
*** September 1, 1993 (present) ***
The cold night was at first refreshing, but soon enough he was shivering and his teeth were chattering uncontrollably. His thin, patched robes were no match for the icy rain and he was soon soaked through to the skin; he was miserable as he trudged in the muddy wake of the students. Reaching the line of carriages pulled by thestrals, he clambered into the last one in line, and slammed the door shut on the biting wind and rain.
The line of carriages began to move off along the bumpy track away from the station. Through the grimy glass he could see the outline of the thestral pulling his carriage. He detested thestrals. They were a tangible reminder of all the death and destruction he had seen during his time with the Order.
Slumping down in the lumpy seat, he closed his eyes and cleared his mind so that all he focused on was the gentle sway of the carriage. He was exhausted. Who would have thought that pretending to sleep all day was so tiring. But now that he was done being on the alert for dementors he could let the irresistible pull of sleep weigh down his limbs...
He was rudely jolted back to earth when they passed through the huge, wrought iron gates. They were flanked by two dementors, and their icy auras flowed over him. He reclosed his eyes, and silently urged the carriages to travel faster away from the monsters guarding the gate.
They picked up speed as they traveled up the wide sloping lawn. The icy feeling subsided quickly as they trundled toward the illuminated castle.
It hadn't changed in the twelve years since he had last been here—on that terrible day after he'd found out about the deaths of his friends. The tower windows were brightly lit, the forbidden forest was a dark impenetrable shadow with the bright lights of Hagrid's cabin nearby. The dark lake's surface was being lashed by the wind and rain. He could just make out the shape of the Whomping Willow, standing sentinel over the tunnel that led to the shack where he used to transform.
The line of carriages came to a halt at the bottom of the stone stairs that led up to the great oak entrance doors. He clambered out into the wet night and the sea of students all shoving each other in the attempt to get inside the warmth of the Entrance Hall. He waded forward and endeavoured to organize the students into some semblance of a line.
He was just helping up a small second year girl who had fallen in the mud, when he heard a drawling voice behind him sneer, "You fainted, Potter? Is Longbottom telling the truth? You actually fainted?"
He whipped around. Harry and his two friends were standing beside their carriage, their path blocked by a fair-haired boy with a pale pointed face. He had never seen Lucius Malfoy this young, but he imagined this was exactly how he would have looked.
"Shove off, Malfoy," said Ron with his jaw clenched angrily.
"Did you faint as well, Weasley?" retorted the Malfoy boy, "Did the scary old dementor frighten you too, Weasley?"
"Is there a problem?" Remus said mildly, his tone not reflecting the irrational anger he felt at the words of the bully.
"Oh, no—er—Professor," Malfoy said smirking insolently. He obviously wasn't as intimidated by him now as he had been on the train.
Malfoy and his two silent cronies set off towards the castle, pushing through the remaining students. After a beat, Harry and his friends followed.
Remus followed in their wake. He was disgusted by the bullying behaviour of the Malfoy boy. It was evident that this was a common occurrence. He hadn't thought that Harry would be at odds with another student, but being his father's son, he realized it was inevitable.
The warmth of the Entrance Hall embraced him as he finally entered the castle. He sighed happily feeling the cold evaporating from his limbs, though his robes were still damp and clung to his frame.
He followed behind the sea of students into the Great Hall. The enchanted ceiling was as black and clouded over as the sky outside. Enchanted candles were floating over the long house and staff tables, setting golden plates and goblets to glittering merrily.
Automatically he set off towards the Gryffindor table with a group of students, and then stopped embarrassed; he could feel the heat emanating from his face. Hoping that his faux pas wasn't noticed by anybody, he reversed his direction and headed up to the staff table.
When he reached the table at the top of the hall, he paused. Where was he to sit? There were a few empty chairs, and he didn't desire to make a fool of himself by sitting in someone else's chair.
He quietly edged along the back of the table, and did a swift mental calculation. There were three vacant seats. The one at Dumbledore's right side was evidently Professor McGonagall's-she being the Deputy Headmistress. There was a rather large chair situated at the foot of the table, he presumed for Hagrid who hadn't as yet entered the hall. That left the chair three places to the right of Dumbledore between old Professor Flitwick and a dark skinned, black haired witch whom he didn't recognize.
Cautiously, he pulled out the chair, and when no one protested, he sat down. It felt rather surreal sitting at the head table, looking out at the four house tables lined with students. He felt as though he should be among the hoards of anonymous students, not on display for the whole hall to see.
His attention was brought back to the staff table when Dumbledore called down it to Professor Flitwick, "It's time, Filius."
The diminutive Charms Professor nodded and clambered off the stack of cushions which allowed him to see comfortably over the table.
With no one seated between them at the moment, Dumbledore's attention was drawn to him. "Ah, Remus! I'm delighted to see you. Minerva said there was a spot of trouble on the train..."
"Yes, Headmaster," he said as calmly as possible while feeling as though Dumbledore's piercing gaze was looking through his skull and examining his every thought.
"But you handled it excellently," Dumbledore said with a smile.
He wasn't about to tell this man who he idolized that he had frozen when the dementor had appeared. "Thank you, sir."
To his immense relief, Dumbledore's attention was drawn away from him as a long line of first years entered the hall with Professor Flitwick at their head carrying the Sorting Hat and stool.
The nervous group of students were led up to the top table and filed along it, stopping and turning to face the rest of the student body.
He could only see their backs from where he was sitting, but he could imagine that their small faces were pale with a combination of nerves and fear. He could remember precisely how they felt. Exactly twenty-two years ago, he had been one of them.
*** September 1, 1971 (twenty-two years prior) ***
He was shaking. His stomach felt as though it was moments away from expelling the chocolate frogs he had eaten on the train. He had the horribly sickening feeling that he was about to transform. He wasn't going to transform right? Before his common sense could kick in, an intense, irrational wave of fear swept over him. He was about a second from bolting for the exit when he reminded himself that it was about four weeks until the full moon, and there was no way he could transform just because he was a bit nervous.
The other first year students in line with him seemed to be just as nervous as him. Oddly, this calmed him a bit. If everyone else was anxious, then it was acceptable for him to be as well.
Honestly, he hadn't really thought about which house he was going to be sorted into. He had only had mingled feelings of worry and happiness at the mere thought of being allowed to go to school. But when that Snape boy on the train had mentioned that he hoped Lily would be in Slytherin, the conversation in the compartment had turned to houses.
James had been adamant that he would end up in Gryffindor like his Dad. Sirius had admitted that his whole family had been in Slytherin, but he hoped that he wouldn't be. After this revelation, the conversation was changed to families. But Remus was left wondering which house he would be sorted into.
His parents had both been in Gryfindor, the house of the brave and bold. He felt neither brave nor bold. If he was brave he wouldn't feel any fear or trepidation at the thought of going to school. Ravenclaw didn't sound too bad. The house of the learned and intellectual. If he wasn't picked to be in his parents' old house, he would hope to be in Ravenclaw. He didn't know too much about Hufflepuff, besides the fact that most people said it was the house for duffers and misfits. It sure sounded as though that was the place for him.
That left Slytherin. He hoped with all his might he wouldn't end up there. Though, would the fact that he was considered to be a dark creature automatically send him to the house that turned out the most dark wizards? He felt panic rising inside him again. If he was sorted into Slytherin, he'd leave because his worst fears that he was evil would have been confirmed.
Professor McGonagall, the stern faced witch that had met them at the castle doors, was standing in front of them with a long roll of parchment, evidently poised to read off the names of the first years to be sorted. And as she started to read off the names in alphabetical order, he stared at the Sorting Hat on the spindly-legged stool.
The hat had startled him and the rest of the first years by singing a song about the four houses through a rip near its brim like a mouth. Its song had expounded on the different qualities looked for by each house, but he was still uncertain as to where he belonged.
The line began to thin as students were called forward, the hat placed on their heads, and then the name of their house was shouted out, and the students at the appropriate table applauded enthusiastically.
As "Angus, Lauren" was sorted into Ravenclaw, a horrible thought struck him with enough force to knock the air out of his lungs. During its song, the hat had said it would see inside their heads. What if it saw that he was a werewolf and would announce that fact to the whole hall?
Professor McGonagall's voice broke dimly into his thought as she called out, "Black, Sirius."
He felt oddly detached as he watched the haughty looking boy from the train stroll confidently up to the stool. The hat sat on his head for barely ten seconds before it shouted, "Gryffindor!"
There was an odd hush throughout the hall, and then the Gryffindor table burst into applause. It may have been his imagination, but a quick look at the Slytherin table revealed stunned faces.
So Sirius had gotten his wish. He hadn't been sorted into Slytherin like his whole family before him. Maybe he'd get his wish not to be sorted into Slytherin as well. Maybe he'd be lucky and be sorted into Gryffindor like his parents. A surge of hope swelled up inside him.
The line was thinning rapidly. With each name called, he stopped breathing hoping, and also dreading that it would be him. He watched anxiously as Lily, the nice girl from the train, was sorted into Gryffindor. He thought that her friend Snape wasn't pleased at the moment. Finally, when he didn't think he'd be able to take much more panic, Professor McGonagall's stern voice called, "Lupin, Remus."
He could have sworn his heart stopped beating. He wasn't sure what force drove him forward on wobbly legs towards the stool. His sweat slicked hands slid on the stool as he sat down. He had one last glimpse of the Great Hall and the hundreds of faces staring at him, and then the world went black as the hat was dropped onto his head.
"Ah, Lupin," a voice said in his ear, "what a unique person you are."
His chest tightened in fear.
"Please, please don't tell—"
"Don't be daft, boy," the voice snapped. "I'm not here to spill secrets, that is not my purpose. Though, if it were up to me... Hmm let's see. Plenty of intelligence. A vast supply of fierce loyalty-that could get you in trouble one day. The potential for good, and yet also the potential for iniquity—"
"But doesn't everybody have that?" he asked before he could stop himself. He was angry that the hat was pointing out his greatest fear.
"—But with the bravery and determination to pick a side and stay true to it. I know where to put you... Gryffindor!"
The last word was shouted out for the whole hall to hear. The hat was whipped off his head, and on unsteady legs, he stumbled off towards the Gryffindor table that was cheering him enthusiastically.
He peered up and down the table trying to find a place to sit. There were several empty benches beside Sirius. He wasn't sure if the boy would want him to sit with him, he didn't seem to have been to interested in him on the train. He and James had gotten on very well, and he had been left sitting in the corner only occasionally brought into the conversation. He had been too shy to just jump in.
He was about to continue down the table to an empty bench next to a pearly white ghost, when Sirius smiled broadly at him and patted the seat next to him.
Smiling gratefully, he slid onto the bench and sighed in relief. He wasn't a Slytherin!
"Good one!" Sirius said thumping him on the back.
"You too," he gasped as he fell forward into the table from the force of Sirius's enthusiasm.
"My parents are going to be so furious," Sirius said not looking concerned in the slightest.
They sat watching the rest of the sorting companionably, cheering with the rest of the table whenever someone was made a Gryffindor.
When "Potter, James" was called, he and Sirius both rose slightly out of their seats to be able to see better. The hat had barely touched James's black hair when the hat shouted, "Gryffindor!"
He and Sirius both cheered wildly as James headed towards them with an enormous smile on his face. As he flopped down into the seat on the opposite side of Sirius he said, "I knew it! No sweat."
Remus smiled as Sirius clapped James on the back. James may have appeared nonchalant, but Remus could swear he saw a flash of relief cross his face.
"Great job, Sirius, and you too Remus!" James said happily reaching around Sirius to pat him on the back.
"You too," he replied happily.
A few short minutes ago, he had wanted the sorting to drag on forever, but now, as his stomach let out a loud growl of hunger, he wanted it to be over.
Wait, he was hungry! James and Sirius, who had looked around at the loud growl from his stomach began to laugh at the look of stunned surprise that must've been on his face. Just that morning he had felt queasy and ill from his most recent transformation, but now he felt ravenous.
"That, my friend, is the sound that means you're hungry," James said with the air of explaining something simple to a small child.
"It means you don't have my superior stamina, I'm not nearly hungry," Sirius added with a mock superior look that quickly slid off his face as his own stomach growled.
"What was that?" Remus said with a grin. "Did your stomach just say something?"
"Feed me!" James warbled in a high-pitched voice, "Sirius feed me! The amount of effort you put into that look of superiority broke my stamina and I'm now starving." They all laughed uproariously.
As he sat at the Gryffindor table, beside two people he now knew were his friends and with the welcome feeling of hunger in his stomach, he felt lighter and happier than he could ever remember being.
*** September 1, 1993 (present) ***
Blinking, he brought the present Great Hall back into focus. He realized that his attention had wandered for quite a while. Professor Flitwick was reading off names in his squeaky voice. Dimly, he realized that he'd missed the Sorting Hat's song. Gritting his teeth, he mentally chastised himself yet again. He had to stop letting his mind wander off. He kept missing important things. Sitting up straighter in his seat, he firmly kept his mind focused on the ever dwindling line of first years, applauding politely with the rest of the table as each student was sorted.
Finally the last student "Young, Charles" was sorted into Hufflepuff, and the sorting was finished. During the intervening time between the end of the sorting and the start of the feast, he looked interestedly up and down the Staff table. Hagrid had arrived from taking the First Years across the lake sometime during the sorting. As he caught his eye, Hagrid smiled broadly at him and waved. He gave a wave in return. He and the Marauders had known Hagrid very well during their time at Hogwarts, and they had fought alongside him in the Order of the Phoenix.
He saw a few other familiar faces up and down the table from his time at Hogwarts. Professor Sprout was still teaching Herbology and Professor Vector was still teaching Arithmancy.
Seated to the left of Professor Dumbledore he saw another familiar face that wasn't so welcome. Snape looked exactly the same as the last time he'd seen him. His black hair was greasy, his nose was hooked, and his black eyes flashed the same malevolent look at him.
The scraping of chairs beside him brought his attention back to his immediate surroundings. Professors McGonagall and Flitwick were taking their seats. With every chair at the Staff table filled, Professor Dumbledore rose to his feet and a hush fell over the hall.
"Welcome! Welcome to another year at Hogwarts! I have a few things to say to you all, and as one of them is very serious, I think it best to get it out of the way before you become befuddled by our excellent feast..."
Dumbledore cleared his throat and continued, "as you will all be aware after their search of the Hogwarts Express, our school is presently playing host to some of the dementors of Azkaban, who are here on Ministry of Magic business."
It may have been a trick of the light, but he could've sworn that a gleam of disgust flickered briefly in Dumbledore's eyes.
"They are stationed at every entrance to the grounds," he continued, "and while they are with us, I must make it plain that nobody is to leave school without permission. Dementors are not to be fooled by tricks or disguises—or even Invisibility Cloaks."
Remus wondered why he had added that bit about invisibility cloaks. It was as though he was talking to the Marauders. No, not the Marauders, to Harry. He had never known what had become of James' invisibility cloak after his death. Had Harry perhaps come into possession of it? For some reason this thought made him smile.
"It is not in the nature of a dementor to understand pleading or excuses," Dumbledore continued.
"Or demands that they leave," he thought disparagingly as he remembered his actions on the train.
"I therefore warn each and every one of you to give them no reason to harm you. I look to the prefects, and our new Head Boy and Girl, to make sure that no student runs afoul of the dementors," Dumbledore added with an extremely serious look on his face.
The hall was dead silent for several moments as everybody absorbed the gravity of Dumbledore's words.
"On a happier note," he finally continued, "I am pleased to welcome two new teachers to our ranks this year."
"First, Professor Lupin, who has kindly consented to fill the post of Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher."
A polite smattering of applause filled the hall, though he noticed that the applause was loudest at the Gryffindor table. He hadn't expected an overwhelming welcome, he had cut himself off from the Wizarding World after all and wasn't very well known.
He felt as though someone was staring hard at him. He turned his head and saw Snape glaring directly at him with the ugliest look of loathing he'd ever seen directed at anybody, let alone at himself.
The happiness he had felt when Dumbledore had announced him as "Professor Lupin" died instantly replaced with an overwhelming feeling of sorrow. If only Snape knew how sorry he was that he hadn't stopped his friends from bullying him. After they had left school, and Snape had joined the Death Eaters, he hadn't felt so guilty. But now that they were both Professors, and Snape had agreed to mix the Wolf's Bane potion for him, he felt terrible for his youthful actions.
"As to our second new appointment," Dumbledore continued as the lukewarm applause for Remus died away. "Well, I am sorry to tell you that Professor Kettleburn, our Care of Magical Creatures teacher, retired at the end of last year in order to enjoy more time with his remaining limbs. However, I am delighted to say that his place will be filled by none other than Rubeus Hagrid, who has agreed to take on this teaching job in addition to his gamekeeping duties."
The applause for Hagrid was much more tumultuous than it had been for him, but he didn't mind at all. He was just as pleased as everyone else that Hagrid was now a professor.
"Well, I think that's everything of importance," said Dumbledore after the storm of applause had died away. "Let the feast begin!"
As the golden plates and goblets filled with food and drink, he felt the same unexpected wave of hunger that he had felt twenty-two years prior, sweep over him. Reaching for the nearest platter of chicken, he began to pile food onto his plate.
As he dug into the sumptuous feast, he listened to the chatter of conversation around him. Professor Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall had their heads together talking quietly. He couldn't hear what they were saying, but he had a strong feeling that they were discussing Harry. It was obvious that Professor McGonagall had missed her usual job of overseeing the sorting because she had received his note and had taken Harry to see Madam Pomfrey.
Peering at the Gryffindor table, he saw Harry's black haired head between the red and brown of his two friends. He sighed in relief. He had been worried that Harry had been affected badly by the dementor, but if the always overcautious Madam Pomfrey had released him then he must be all right.
"You must be brave," a cool feminine voice said to his right.
Whipping around, he saw that the dark skinned witch he'd noticed earlier was looking straight at him with a kind smile touching her lips.
"Er—what makes you say that?" he asked confused.
"Your job," she replied leaning forward towards him. "People say it's jinxed, because no one lasts more than a year."
"Well I guess I'm up to it," he said baffled. He had the strange thought that she was flirting with him.
"Only guess?" she asked with her long eyelashes fluttering.
"Well—er—yeah, I'm up to it."
"Well that's good," she said finally leaning slightly back. "I'm Aurora Sinistra, Astronomy professor."
"Remus Lupin," he said proffering his hand.
"It's lovely to meet you," she said taking his hand in her smooth cool grip.
"You too."
"Oh, leave him alone, Aurora," said the witch on her right, "Can't you see he's trying to eat?" Her attention was drawn away, though he could have sworn that her eyes kept flicking back to him.
The main course finally melted off their plates and was replaced by dozens of desserts. Feeling completely overstuffed, he refrained from indulging, though the platter of tarts nearest him looked mouth-watering. He had probably just eaten more in one sitting then he had in the last week, or at least it sure felt like it. Fatigue was weighing down his limbs, all he wanted now was his nice warm bed.
Finally, when he was on the verge of laying his head down on his plate so he could sleep, Dumbledore dismissed the students.
He began to push back from the table, but Aurora placed a hand on his arm stilling his movement.
"Wait," she said quietly.
None of the staff were moving, they were all sitting staring at Dumbledore. As the last few students finally left the hall, Dumbledore rose and said, "I shall meet you all in the staffroom in fifteen minutes. Could the heads of house please make sure that all students are in their houses and not in the corridors. Thank you."
A staff meeting? He sighed and clambered tiredly to his feet.
He followed Aurora and her friend out of the hall. He was so exhausted he barely noticed the route they were taking. When finally they arrived at the staffroom, he collapsed into one of the comfortable armchairs surrounding the long wooden table, not really caring by that point if he had taken someone else's spot.
Slowly over the next few minutes the remainder of the staff trickled in and settled down around the table. Everyone seemed to be beat as well. There was very little conversation, and many smothered yawns. Someone summoned a pot of coffee and everyone eagerly poured themselves a cup.
Finally, Professor Dumbledore entered the room and took his place at the head of the table.
"I know you are all longing for your beds so I will make this meeting as brief as possible. As usual there are a few start of term notices that I must share with you."
Professor Dumbledore then proceeded to outline the school's policies for discipline, safety, exam procedures, leave and sick days, weekends off, and supervision schedules. While he listened as hard as he could, trying to bully his brain into remembering important details, he saw that some of the older teachers who had obviously heard this spiel many times, were appearing to pay attention, though were rolling their eyes to heaven as the Headmaster rambled on.
What seemed like hours later, Professor Dumbledore finally said, "I know that that was very tedious, but it was quite necessary. Now I have one more announcement, and as it is rather important, I beg for your full, undivided attention."
"Most of you," he continued once everyone was looking at him curiously at the serious tone in his voice, "know our new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher Remus Lupin."
He couldn't imagine why Professor Dumbledore was singling him out like this. It couldn't be because he was new, or he wouldn't sound so serious... Then it hit him. He was about to tell the staff about his lycanthropy.
Suddenly his hands were slick with sweat. He had known this was coming, and he thought he was prepared. Professor Dumbledore had seemed so confident a week ago that everything would be all right, so he hadn't worried too much. Now though, in the moment, he was absolutely terrified.
He shouldn't have come. He shouldn't have gotten his hopes up. Professor Dumbledore was going to tell the staff, and he would be run off like the animal he was.
"Professor Lupin was an excellent student here a couple of decades ago. Most of you taught him during those years."
Many smiles were flashed around the table. He noticed that Professor McGonagall even sent a smile in his direction. He felt slightly better at the remembrance of her saying that she could see him teaching at Hogwarts one day.
"But what you may not have known," he continued sombrely, "is that as a young boy, he was bitten—bitten by a werewolf."
*HP*HP*HP*HP*HP*HP*HP*HP*HP*HP*
I know this is cutting it short, but in my neck of the woods it is still the 10th, and thus it is still Lupin's birthday. So Happy Birthday Lupin!
To celebrate I went to a concert and then ate chocolate. The concert was a complete coincidence, but I ate the chocolate in his honour. Oh, and I also posted this chapter for him. So if you wish to wish him a happy birthday, leave a review!