Remus Lupin was far too familiar with Dumbledore's tea. He reckoned other students had only tasted it a few times, if ever, but Remus knew the taste like the back of his very hand: piping hot (yet drinkable), one sugar, and so much milk that it was more milk-with-tea than tea-with-milk. And here he was again, sitting in the straight-backed chair in Dumbledore's office (another thing with which he was far too acquainted) and drinking tea.
"So," said Dumbledore, steepling his fingers and leaning over his desk. "You found a Death Eater hideout in the Forbidden Forest?"
"Yep," said James. "I reckon someone's living out there permanently. It has everything that someone could ever need."
"And you think that Professor Dilley is friends with said Death Eater?"
"Yeah, of course. He wrote the Death Eater a note saying that he needed to do his laundry."
"And you don't think it possible that Professor Dilley merely dropped it and the Death Eater picked it up?"
"Well, the simplest solution is often the correct one."
"And you think it's simpler that Professor Dilley has secretly been a Death Eater all along?"
"If the shoe fits."
Dumbledore sighed. "I will look at this secret hideout immediately. In the meantime, I want you all to wait here. Do not touch anything. Do not go anywhere. Thank you."
With that, Dumbledore left the Marauders alone in his office.
Remus cleared his throat. "Do you think he's angry with us?" he asked.
"Moony, you dolt," said Sirius, rolling his eyes, "of course he's angry with us. But it'll be over in a while. He's not going to hate us forever because we're kids acting like kids."
Remus could feel his shoulders rise and his heart rate speed up, pounding in his ears like the traitor that it was. "I… I didn't want him to be angry with me," he said.
"So? It's just Albus. He'll forgive anything."
"But he's doing a lot for me, Padfoot, and I can't afford to mess this up. I need to follow the rules. I can't disappoint him, I can't."
"He won't expel you. He loves you. You're just about the best student here."
"I'm not! I fell behind on my studies this year, because I was out and about with you lot, and I was too scared to keep up with my projects… he had to tell me to stop… and I was so annoying this year and so high-maintenance and so emotional… and I honestly wouldn't be surprised if he doesn't like me anymore."
"Why does it matter? He'll keep you around even if he doesn't like you. You're a student."
"I'm not just a student, I can't afford to make as many mistakes as you can, and… look, even if he'll keep me around no matter what, I don't want to let him down. I don't think you understand the extent of what he's done for me and my family. I have to… I can't make him regret it, I can't… I want to be perfect!" Remus clutched his hands around his milk-with-tea so tightly that his fingers went white. "How could I let you talk me into this?!"
"Because we're outstandingly persuasive?" said James with a winning smile. "Look, mate, relax. No use worrying about it. Albus isn't the type to hold a grudge, and he knows you can't be perfect, no matter how hard you try."
Remus nodded and shut up, but he was still worried.
And he was still worried when his friends started playing an intense game of scissors-paper-rock.
And he was still worried when they started playing a memory game that James was very, very good at.
And he was still worried when they started a brief but violent game of musical chairs.
There his friends were, having fun and passing the time, and Remus was sitting rigid in his chair and worrying. He knew that this was no way to act, he knew that he was being horribly annoying… yet still he worried, because he was terrified that any respect that Dumbledore once had for Remus would be lost. Why had he done this? Why hadn't he stayed in his dormitory and revised like a good student? Instead, he'd snuck out to the Forbidden Forest, seeking refuge in the wild… like a wolf.
Remus felt ill. For a moment, he thought he was going to be sick, but he managed to push it down.
When Dumbledore came back about fifteen minutes later, Remus had still not moved an inch. He watched as Dumbledore sat back down at his desk, looking solemn, and his friends dashed back to their seats with a giggle.
"The situation has been taken care of," said Dumbledore, and that was it. No mild-mannered jokes. No calm reassurances. No further details.
"So you caught the Death Eater?" James said eagerly.
"The situation has been taken care of," repeated Dumbledore. "You have to understand that it is confidential. I cannot disclose any more than that. But you are safe, I promise."
"So Drew isn't a Death Eater?"
"Professor Dilley, James, is not a Death Eater. The situation has been taken care of. I know exactly what has happened, and Professor Dilley has done nothing wrong. The four of you, however, have made a mistake, and I must confess that I am rather disappointed."
Remus cringed and looked away.
"After everything that has been happening in the world—after every horrific event that has occurred just off of Hogwarts grounds—after what Remus found in the forest the March before last—I am surprised and frankly very saddened that you would endanger your lives like that."
Remus glanced at his friends, who had an air of practiced indifference—even Peter, who tended to be nervous about things sometimes (like Remus). Remus could usually count on Peter to be his equally meek counterpart, but not today. Every Marauder but Remus was used to getting into trouble, and Remus felt rather left-out… and terrified, too.
"I am deducting twenty House points each. If I am not mistaken, that puts Gryffindor into negative numbers. I will also be giving each of you five days' worth of detention."
"Together?" blurted Sirius.
"No. While I admit that I am not omniscient, I am not that stupid. James, you will be sorting books with Professor Leek. Sirius, you will be helping the Muggle Studies professor fix a television set…."
"But I don't even take Muggle Studies!"
"Well, there is no use learning about a subject that you already know all about. Peter, you'll be cleaning out the pumpkin patch with Hagrid."
Remus knew he was next, and he felt his face grow bright red (much to his dismay). "Remus," said Professor Dumbledore, suddenly looking much older and more tired than he had all day, "I do not want to interrupt your studies. Finish your exams, and then I will assign your detentions as soon as you have recovered from the full moon. Is that all right?"
"No!" said James. "Look at him. He's distraught about this! Do I know why? No. But I do know that we can't do that right after the full moon—he'll stress himself half to death, and then the moon's going to be awful!"
"While I appreciate your attempts to get your friend out of detention, they're not going to work. Remus can handle it. Isn't that right, Remus?"
"Yes, sir," mumbled Remus.
He looked over at James, who shrugged and leaned back into his chair. "Worth a try, mate," he said.
"James, Sirius, and Peter… you may go," said Dumbledore. "I'd like to talk to Remus for a while."
"If you're going to chew him out further, then you've got another thought coming!"
"James. I am not going to do that. Please leave."
"All right, then." James practically skipped out of the room, followed by Peter and Sirius, who gave Remus a hearty wink as he left. Then the door was closed, and Remus was left alone with a disappointed Dumbledore. He stared at the floor.
"Remus, look at me," said Dumbledore.
Remus didn't.
"Look at me, please."
Remus still didn't. He couldn't. After a moment, he heard Dumbledore's chair creak slightly, and then the man was crouching directly next to Remus. "Look at me," he said again, and Remus slowly turned his head so that his eyes were meeting Dumbledore's. "Do I look angry?" said Dumbledore.
"No, sir," stammered Remus. "No, not really, but that's not—"
"I am not angry. Do you understand?"
"Yes, sir, but…"
"I am not angry at all. You are a fourteen-year-old boy, and you are allowed to make mistakes. This was undoubtedly a mistake, but I am not going to expel you over it. In fact, I am glad that you aren't perfect. Perfect people are rather boring, don't you think?"
Remus swallowed. "I'm doing my best to earn my place here," he said. "But—"
"No," interrupted Dumbledore. "You do not have to earn your place here. Like the rest of the students here, you were not offered a place because you deserved it. You were offered a place because everyone eligible was offered a place. That's a bleak thought insofar as you did not do anything particularly wonderful to earn it, but it's a glorious thought insofar as it will still be yours, even if you cease to deserve it (which will never happen, as far as I am concerned). We only expel students who pose a danger to themselves and others."
"Which is the literal definition of a werewolf."
"Not this one, Remus. You are perfectly safe. I have made sure of that, and insinuating that you are dangerous is a slight and unintentional insult to my intelligence."
"But I snuck into the Forbidden Forest… I could have died."
"Correct. And if you make a regular habit of it, then I might have to expel you. But students have done it before, and they will continue to do it… that is the problem of calling it the 'Forbidden Forest', I'm afraid. It acts as reverse psychology, and it seems to be frequently visited by both staff and students. You are not the first, Remus… but I do ask, just as I did last time, that you stay out."
Remus nodded, a lump in his throat at the unexpected forgiveness. "I'm sorry," he said again.
"I know."
"You kept saying you had a high opinion of me, and…"
"And I still do, which is precisely why I want you to be safe. If I had hated you, Remus, then I would encourage you to go on frequent outings in the Forbidden Forest, wouldn't I?"
"I… I suppose, but…"
"I do ask one thing of you, though."
Remus perked up, eager to repay Dumbledore's seemingly endless kindness in any way he could. "Anything, sir."
"Don't say that before I've asked," chuckled Dumbledore. "I've noticed that your conscience is significantly more well-tuned than your friends'. I only ask that, if they say that they'd like to do something incredibly dangerous or immoral, that you discourage them from doing so. I trust you to tell right from wrong. Can you do that for me?"
Remus wondered how Dumbledore had known that the Forbidden Forest had been his friends' idea, but then he realized that it was very obvious to anyone who knew Remus and his friends. "Yes, sir," he said. "I can do that."
"Good. You may leave, now, unless there's anything else you'd like to talk about."
"There's nothing, sir. Thank you."
"Thank you, Remus. Please remember that I am not angry. In fact, I don't even think you need detention to learn your lesson… but I'm afraid that I must give it, as I am the headmaster and occasionally must play the part. I wish you the best of luck on your exams."
"Thank you, sir," said Remus, and he'd never meant anything more in his life.
Remus' exams went pretty well, for the most part.
His friends were teasing him practically the entire week, of course. "Look at Moony, going to take his exam at eight in the morning," crowed Sirius. "As for the rest of us, we'll be sleeping in!"
"Shut up," muttered Remus. "You won't be sleeping in. You'll be up mapping out rooms at the crack of dawn."
And they did. In fact, Remus heard Peeves' joyous whoops in the corridor the entire time he was taking his Potions exam—Peeves was causing a distraction with Zonko's Chilly Powder, which made the students shiver violently, and the three unoccupied Marauders were mapping out some of the teachers' offices. Remus was trying very hard not to be distracted, but it was proving very difficult.
"That Peeves has got to go," said Slughorn scornfully. "You need to focus!"
"Yes, sir," said Remus. He managed to get through his exam without too much of an issue, but he was sure that it wouldn't have taken him nearly as long if he'd been doing it in a quiet room.
Remus' Ancient Runes exam went mostly well. There was no practical version to the Runes exam—only a written version—and Remus knew the majority of the questions. There was one passage that contained some vocabulary he wasn't one-hundred-percent certain about, and he ended up guessing on a few questions, but the first two passages and the free-response question went well. Remus was fairly certain that he'd scraped an E, at least.
His next exam was Transfiguration, and he was the most worried about that one. Transfiguration had always been Remus' worst subject, and it didn't help that he'd hardly studied the subject at all (he'd been worried enough about Runes). Sure enough, he guessed on a lot of the written portion, and his practical portion seemed substandard. McGonagall frowned a bit as she took notes. "Hm," she said.
Remus cringed. "That bad?"
"No. It's rather average. I… suppose I'm just used to you being above average. You were well ahead of your classmates back in first year, though your practical exams left a little to be desired."
"Oh. I'm sorry."
McGonagall stared at Remus for a moment, considering. Then she said, "Actually, I don't think it's a bad thing."
"…Pardon? Doing worse in my classes is a good thing?"
"Lupin, I saw you in first year. You were spending all your time revising. You didn't talk to anyone in class. You were rigid, terrified of failing, and quiet. Now… you're interested in other things besides getting in, getting an education, and getting out. You're more alive. You're more occupied. You don't fill your time with schoolwork because you're slowly adopting a more balanced schedule with friends, fun, and other hobbies and projects. You'll do a little bit worse in school, but you'll be happier and healthier. That's a good thing… as long as you keep up with your studies, of course."
Remus thought about that. "I suppose," he said. "I want to do well, though."
"And you will. You just have to find the perfect balance, and you won't learn what's right for you without trial and error. For instance…." McGonagall had been scoring Remus' written portion, and now she wrote something at the top and showed Remus. "This is a low A—an Acceptable. If you're happy with that, then keep the balance as it is. If you're not, then add a little bit more Transfiguration to mix."
"I see."
McGonagall smiled at him. "Do you know who is the perfect example of a person who did not have nearly enough balance?"
"Who?"
"Keep in mind that I did not attend Hogwarts at the same time as he did, but I hear John Questus was rather infamous for being completely single-minded. He didn't have friends after his second year, he didn't have any sort of fun… he just read, studied, and practiced duelling. He turned out all right, of course, but…"
Remus laughed. "No, I definitely don't want to end up like him," he said. "I think he's a great example of what not to do."
"He was excellent at what he did."
"I know, but I just want to be happy, and he wasn't. I'll take into account what you said, Professor. Thank you."
With that, McGonagall granted him a rare smile. "Contrary to popular belief, I don't only like the students who are geniuses in my subject, Remus, and I'm not going to think any less of your character or intelligence if my class isn't your top priority."
As Remus lied in bed that night, staring out the window and trying not to be afraid of it, he realized that maybe it was the attempt that people liked and not necessarily the success. He didn't have to be perfect to be liked. He just had to try, and that was exactly what he was going to do.
Most of the time.
Remus took Care of Magical Creatures the next day, which went much better than he'd expected. He did fine on the written portion, and the practical portion, much to his joy, involved Bowtruckles.
"I hope you didn't alter your exam plans on my account," he told Kettleburn.
"Oh, I didn't! I always do Bowtruckles with my third-years. They're skittish enough that taming them is something of a challenge, but not dangerous one bit. It's just an added bonus that you have a fair shot because of Francine! Now, all you have to do is get one to eat out of your hand. You may use any spell you wish, but you may not use one directly on the Bowtruckle."
Remus remembered from his textbook that Bowtruckles loved scents of common wand trees, so he used a spell on his hand to make it smell of ash. It wasn't long before a couple of Bowtruckles came wandering over to him, eating delicately and warily from his hand.
"Excellent!" said Kettleburn. "That'll be full marks, of course!"
Remus grinned. Things were going just fine.
0
Remus' Charms exam was a piece of cake, and Professor Flitwick was absolutely fawning over his spell technique during the practical.
"So precise!" he said. "The speed of the spell is outstanding! The power behind it is remarkable! You're shaping up to be quite the wizard indeed!"
"It was all Professor Questus' coaching," said Remus modestly.
"But it was your choice to study it, and it was your hours of dedicated practice that brought this to fruition. You could be quite the duellist someday, Lupin! You already are, in fact!"
"Perhaps. I'm trying my best."
"Full marks, of course, and I'm sure your written exam was brilliant as well. Good luck with the rest of them, Lupin!"
Remus smiled and left, feeling about as confident as he had in the Forest the day prior.
The Astronomy exam was a bit awkward, since Sidus had never really gotten over his fear of werewolves, but the Herbology exam was incredibly simple. Defense Against the Dark Arts was a little bit odd, but Remus thought he managed it.
Upon receiving the written portion, he noticed right off the bat that his answers were disappearing as he wrote them. He cast Finite Incantatem on the paper, which fixed the issue… and then he had to cast a countercharm on the ink, which was turning white and blending in the with the parchment. After that, things went quite smoothly.
"I'm finished," he said, putting down his quill and standing up to give Dilley his test. He suddenly realized that he could not stand up.
"You're stuck to your chair," said Dilley with a smile. "And that, Lupin, is your practical exam! Have fun!"
Remus managed to undo a couple of charms here and there, and then he Summoned some Unsticking Powder from Dilley's desk. It wasn't long before he managed to detach himself from the chair entirely, and Dilley nodded approvingly. "That'll be all from me," he said.
Remus walked back to the dormitory, shaking his head.
Dilley was weird.
It was June first, and Remus had officially finished all of his exams but two. He spent most of his time by the lake, too sore to begin detention with Dumbledore, but not sore enough to go to the Hospital Wing. It was peaceful outdoors, away from the hubbub of students taking the exams that Remus had already taken.
That was, until Remus' friends found him and begged him to tell them what was on the exams.
"I can't tell you," said Remus, ever the responsible friend, and then Sirius threw him in the lake.
When Remus emerged, sputtering and laughing, he decided that he hadn't a care in the world. For the first time in a while, Remus didn't care what others thought about him—after all, he was a person just like anyone else, and he had a place at Hogwarts and a place in others' hearts no matter what he did.
But, of course, he was still going to try.
Most of the time.
