And The Sun Held Her Breath Chapter 13, a harry potter fanfic

THE WEREWOLF IS FINALLY BACK AT HOGWARTS YAAAAY

***dialogue completely in italics (except the flashback) is from Prisoner of Azkaban (book)

If you are interested in a sort of tandem read, I would recommend reading PoA Ch 5 and then reading this chapter (and the next one when it's posted)

From the playlist:

Hedwig's Theme - Julien Ando

Nostalgia- Alice Phoebe Lou

Castle on the Hill - Ed Sheeran (I'm only a little sorry)

Ch. 13 - A Window to the Past

"I need to speak with the driver, excuse me…"

With more haste than he probably should have elected to use in his state, he stepped out into the hallway, heading straight for where the carriage conjoined it to the next. Shoving himself in the corner, he double checked that he was out of other students' line of sight.

Merlin Almighty.

Seeing that boy's face in person was far more jarring than seeing him in the book. That was…by God, he was truly Prongs's carbon copy. Remus's heart seemed to be thumping faster than the speed of the train, reverberating detestably into the cavernous hole that had been carved into his chest. It didn't help that he'd drifted off to sleep imagining James sat beside him, and when he awoke and the dementor glided in with its terrible, rattling breath, it had been that awful rattling draft passing over the splintering beams surrounding the hole in the Potters' roof that Remus heard instead. It wasn't until the lamps came back on that he registered it had been James's son in that compartment. Out of all the others on the train, of course he had to have picked that one. He was lucky the other students' were so focused on Harry that they hadn't seen Remus's face when he realized; hadn't heard the way his own breath got caught in his throat before he could collect himself.

Not only that; the ordeal had robbed him of his opportunity to introduce himself properly.

Hi, Harry. I'm Remus. Your father was my best friend.

It would have been that simple.

He talked himself back into his errand, staring begrudgingly into Carriage E and down the length of the train. The few hours of sleep had been of some assistance, but he couldn't be arsed to walk the entire thing. Not after that. Instead, he apparated up to the locomotive.

The driver jumped a bit when he heard the crack behind him.

"Might I suggest we do not stop for any more dementors," Remus said roughly, and not as a suggestion.

"Apologies, sir."

Sir.

"Minister's orders," the driver explained.

"Yes, well I expect the Ministry will be receiving a few strongly-worded letters from parents about that."

"Understood, sir. We'll be at the station in about ten minutes - with no more planned stops."

"Thank you."

"Anything off the trolley?" the little old witch asked as he was leaving.

"No, thank you." - Though his stomach was starting to whinge in the form of unpleasant gurgles after nearly two days of not wishing to be fed.

He stalked into the next carriage where the prefects sat, but almost as soon as he entered, a ginger boy stood up from his seat and puffed out his chest. "Who are you?" he questioned pompously.

The robes suddenly felt weighed down by all the patches.

"I'm er…I'm the incoming Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher," Remus introduced himself. "And you're Percy."

Percy's entire posture shriveled. He looked half-mortified by the fact that he now understood Remus to be an authority figure, and half-chuffed that said authority figure already learned of his name. "Oh, I'm- I wasn't- Please, forgive me, Professor-"

"Lupin. It's alright. Have you got an owl?"

"Y- er, yes."

"May I borrow it?"

"Certainly. Certainly, sir."

"Perhaps a spare bit of parchment and a quill as well-?"

"Somebody fetch Professor Lupin some parchment and a quill! Quickly!"

"Thank you…" He glanced at Percy's robes, then he glanced at them again. "...You are aware your badge says 'Bighead Boy,' aren't you?" Remus inquired more quietly, suppressing a smile.

Percy's complexion flushed about as bright as his hair as he covered the badge with his hand. "I'm sorry, sir. I know it's terribly unprofessional. My brothers think they're funny."

"Mm." In a display of maturity, Remus simply pressed his lips together and nodded; though his thoughts betrayed him. If only I'd thought of that back in '77 .

A few Hufflepuff prefects who'd been passing the time playing hangman scurried up to provide him with their writing materials. With the quill and parchment in hand, he penned out a quick note:

Professor McGonagall,

Dementors stopped the train.

"Are you all alright?" he asked the carriage at large as he scribbled.

"I don't feel very well," a girl in his periphery muttered.

Harry Potter fell ill. If you could have him looked at by Madam Pomfrey, I would appreciate it.

-Remus

He folded the note and handed it off to the screech owl, who dove gracefully out the open window. "Here." Reaching into his robes, Remus pulled out the remainder of his chocolate bars and handed them to Percy. "Walk the train and pass a segment out to any student who feels out of sorts, please."

"Yes, sir," Percy complied with a militaristic sense of duty, enlisting the other Gryffindor prefects to help.

Students in the other compartments craned their necks to stare as he disapparated back towards the end of the train and made his way through the carriage. Remus assumed they were probably wondering if a vagabond had boarded like Percy had. All he was missing was the little sack tied at the end of a stick.

To make matters worse, the great cavern in his chest seemed to collapse in further when he turned into the last compartment. For a moment, it had looked as though Prongs was back in his seat…

"I haven't poisoned that chocolate, you know…" He noticed Harry hadn't eaten any, and was still quite pale; but the way Remus said it prompted Neville to eye him suspiciously.

That is precisely what someone who'd poisoned the chocolate would say, you fool. He'd hoped for a better first impression, particularly with Harry and Neville.

"We'll be at Hogwarts in ten minutes," he reported. "Are you alright, Harry?"

"Fine," he muttered.

Remus noticed his eyes then, and the cavern bore deeper into his chest .

Those final ten minutes were not filled with much more conversation. Remus sat back in his seat and stared out the window so that he wouldn't stare endlessly at Harry's face and eyes and scar like some sort of nonce.

He'd spent the latter half of the summer strategizing how to go about telling Harry who he was. He hadn't actually expected the boy to recognize him. It wasn't as though Dumbledore would write ahead of time to alert him that the new Defense teacher was once his Uncle Moony - which, unfortunately, meant that the choice to break the news or not sat squarely on Remus's achy shoulders.

Hi, Harry. I'm Remus. Your father was my best friend.

He wanted to tell him. He did. But the few inches of atmosphere between them felt crowded by all the letters he never sent, all the visits he never made any attempts to pay, and all the wasted time. It pressed in on Remus unpleasantly, squeezing the breath he might've used to say those words out of him and drawing the ten minutes out to make them seem much longer. Harry would have so many questions - questions that would make Remus feel more inadequate than he already did. Then Harry would surely spend the remainder of the school year viewing Remus for what he was: a coward. He'd never earn his respect as his teacher, let alone his dad's old mate. Perhaps it was simply unprofessional.

He convinced himself that now wasn't a good time anyway. Harry's evening had been stressful enough, and they were surrounded by other students. Remus wasn't looking to embarrass him.

At last, the train lurched into Hogsmeade station, which as Remus could now hear against the window, was experiencing a downpour. He tucked his robes tighter around himself, letting the students grab their things and exit the compartment before he stood to retrieve the cane from the overhead. As his fingers grasped it, he stilled.

…There was a good chance he'd regret it in the morning, but tonight, he wanted to remember what things were like before the cane. He let go of it, and paid the window etching one more deferential glance as he exited the compartment on his own two feet.

Bitter cold and heavy rainfall greeted him when he stepped off the Express, amplifying the scent of the pine, spruce, and birch all commingling together. He should've minded more, but somehow the weather added to the nostalgia of it all - besides, nobody would think twice about his umbrella charm here. Up the sloping drive, he could just make out the glorious lights illuminating the castle through the rain, and for a moment, he forgot all about being disappointed in himself.

He followed the crowd of students past the station towards the line of stagecoaches, but sucked a sharp breath through his nose when he noticed what was pulling them.

So that's what those things look like.

Up until now he'd never been able to see the Thestrals, and they were magnificent, terrifying things. Membranous wings longer than the length of his body sat tucked atop either side of their skeletal shoulder blades, and their features were just reptilian enough to make you wonder if they were cousins to the dragons.

Glancing around, he checked if any of the other students seemed bothered by them as they climbed into the coaches with their friends. Back in the days when Remus was in their shoes, the amount of students who could see them seemed to increase every year, and they'd stand utterly still, gawking at the coaches in horror. Nobody was doing that now; or, if they could see them, they didn't make any grand displays of showing it. That made him rather proud, actually; and at the same time, the cost of it pressed down on the cavern in his chest more sharply than anything had in ages.

With a measure of caution, he approached the very last coach, keeping eye contact with the Thestral as if being able to see it made him more susceptible to its wrath somehow. The Thestral gave him a dignified nod as he climbed inside, but otherwise didn't pay him much attention; though it did set off rather abruptly. Remus was sent tumbling into his seat, not having found it in time before the carriage jolted forward.

He kept his face plastered to the window like a kid for the whole of the carriage ride. He hadn't seen this remarkable view of the castle when he visited over the summer, so the excitement fizzing in his bloodstream seemed fresh again. It felt new, and old, and like maybe those things might not be so different anymore - until the coach wheeled up towards the entrance gates. A few more dementors drifted ominously into view, and for a moment, that awful rattling draft could be heard through the nooks and crannies of the carriage. Remus squeezed his eyes shut, trying to think of the feast - another Patronus might cause a scene this time. But as the coach wheeled further away, the sound faded.

Sirius had to be a lunatic if he was willingly coming all this way just to be their next meal.

When the coach came to a halt and he stepped out, any attempts of returning to his wistfulness were thwarted by an altercation taking places few paces ahead of him. Ron, Harry, and a silvery blonde-haired boy he'd hoped might defy his expectations.

"Is there a problem?" he asked calmly, stepping in.

The Malfoy boy sized him up. "Oh, no - er - Professor."

His derisive tone wasn't at all subtle. He seemed…just about as Remus expected, unfortunately. It was a pity, albeit a predictable one, that there still seemed to be generalizations he could make about the students in Slytherin. Young Malfoy hadn't been his only sampling: a few prefects in green had thought him too stupid to notice they were sniggering about him on the train. Maybe these students were exceptions and not the rule, but given prior history and family ties, he didn't dare get his hopes up. Remus knew well that people had the ability to change like the tides, so they'd receive equal treatment from him regardless.

As the crowd of students began flocking up the steps, Remus was sucked back into his memories once more, and remained standing at the base of the staircase staring after Harry. He should've just come out and told him then. Harry, you should know: your father was my best friend. I met him right here on these steps twenty-two years ago.

"Ça alors- James, are you seeing this? This place is amazing!"

"Told you, Sirius. Just like my dad said."

"My dad didn't tell me bollocks!"

"Maybe he wanted you to be surprised."

The boy called Sirius scoffed. "I doubt it. What's the Sorting like?"

"Dunno, actually. I just know it happens before the feast."

"Maybe it's a test. Maybe they'll have us perform a spell."

"Maybe they'll quiz us on how much we know about magic," James chuckled.

"Or maybe we'll all have to fight a dragon!"

"Go for the elbows."

Both Sirius and James turned around, and Remus felt the blood drain from his face. He'd been listening in on their conversation, and didn't realize he'd spoken at a volume anybody would hear.

"Why the elbows?" Sirius wondered.

"...Dragons can't reach behind their elbows," Remus stated meekly. "And they won't breathe fire if they'll hit themselves. If you can get yourself behind their elbows, they can't get you, and you can get under their belly where the scales are softer."

Sirius and James looked sideways at each other, smirking.

"I reckon you should be on our dragon-fighting team then," James decided, sticking out his hand. "James Potter."

Remus stared at the hand offered, then reciprocated very gently with the wrong hand. "Remus Lupin."

"I'm Sirius," the other boy giggled, shaking Remus's hand with the wrong hand too because he found it amusing.

"That dragon won't stand a chance," Remus quipped, finding himself smiling as he looked around at the three of them.

Sirius seemed excited. "Hang on, do we actually get to fight a dragon?"

"No," Remus conceded. "It's just an old hat."

By the time the memory dissolved into a mist, his feet had carried him through the Entrance Hall up to the double doors leading into the Great Hall. A burgeoning sense of responsibility was diffusing into every cell in his body as he stood at the threshold - and, if he was being completely honest, a bit of anger, too. The years outside these stone walls had been so unkind. Twinges were already flaring up in his knees. He would've liked to have had the means to look nicer by now. His friends were gone.

But that was all about to change.

Here, he could teach kindness that might multiply out beyond the walls.

Here, he could receive proper accommodation.

Here, he could show that patches on robes were not a measure of a person's merit.

Here, he could hold them as they were.

A real change. A real chance at something worthwhile.

Remus drew in a steadying breath, and pushed the doors open.