Chapter 4 - Romulus and Remus
The next morning arrived wrapped in a misty chill, the sky outside the castle cloaked in soft gray clouds. Ava made her way through the dim corridors, the echo of her footsteps accompanied only by the occasional hoot from the owlery above. She was tired. Not just from lack of sleep, but from the swirl of thoughts still dancing in her head. Fred's easy laughter, Leia's teasing, the ghost of her mother's voice… and the faint flutter in her chest at the idea of tutoring Oliver Wood later that day.
She twisted her fingers around the strap of her satchel as she entered the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom. Professor Lupin stood at the blackboard, scribbling notes in his slightly slanted handwriting. His robes looked more worn than usual, and there were faint shadows under his eyes. But when he caught sight of Ava, he smiled. Warm. Immediate.
"Good morning, Miss Johnson," he greeted with gentle ease.
"Morning, Professor," she replied, offering a faint smile of her own.
The classroom gradually filled with the usual mix of yawns, whispers, and the clatter of bags and books. Ava took her seat by the window, setting out her parchment and ink. Her gaze drifted toward Lupin's desk, where his notes sat in a neat pile beside a worn tin of chocolate and a scattering of curious magical oddities. An orb that glowed faintly when touched, a quill that occasionally wrote on its own, and a cracked Remembrall nestled in the corner.
Once the students had settled, Lupin turned toward them.
"Today," he said, "we'll begin with something practical. A common defensive charm. The Boggart-Banishing Spell. A deceptively simple incantation, Riddikulus, but it takes confidence to cast correctly."
A few students perked up, while others groaned at the idea of facing their fears in front of the class. Ava straightened in her seat, quill poised, but her mind kept drifting, not just to the lesson, but to Lupin himself. There was something about him. The kindness in his eyes. The way he listened.
After an engaging, slightly chaotic round of Boggart demonstrations (in which a student's worst fear, a singing banshee, was reduced to an off-key opera singer in polka-dot robes), class was dismissed with the echo of laughter still clinging to the air.
Ava was just gathering her things when Lupin approached her desk.
"Miss Johnson, do you have a free period next?"
She looked up, a little surprised. "Yeah. I don't have Charms until after lunch."
He gave a small nod. "Would you mind staying a moment? I'd like to ask you something. Nothing formal."
Curious, Ava followed him back to the front of the classroom as the last of her classmates filed out. The door clicked shut, and the room fell into a soft, thoughtful quiet.
Lupin gestured toward the desk and sat on its edge. "I hope you don't mind my saying this, but you've always struck me as unusually perceptive."
Ava blinked. "I… I guess? I like to notice things. My mum used to say I had a Diviner's spirit. Said I could always tell when something was off."
Lupin smiled gently, then reached into the tin and offered her a piece of chocolate.
"Couverture," he said. "My favorite."
She took it, unwrapping it slowly. The scent hit her before the flavor, something warm and nostalgic. Her heart tugged. "This tastes like… cocoa butter. My mum used to give me this when I was little. I haven't had it in years."
He watched her quietly, his expression unreadable. "I gave it to her once. Back at school. She loved it. I think I might've gotten her hooked."
Ava blinked. "You knew her well?"
Lupin's voice softened. "Your mother… Vanessa. Yes. We were close. She was a year below me. Clever. Quick-witted. Always talking about stars and stories. She was friends with Lily Evans, so we saw each other often. But after a while, we found our own rhythm. She called herself Romulus when we were sneaking out to stargaze. Said it sounded stronger than Vanessa." He smiled faintly. "Romulus and Remus. The twin sons of Mars. Founders of Rome."
Ava bit off another piece of chocolate, letting it melt on her tongue. "What was your favorite memory of her?"
Lupin hesitated, then stood and walked slowly to the window, his fingers absently trailing the wooden frame.
"The lake," he said softly. "At night. We'd go out after curfew and sit by the water. She used to give the constellations her own names. Some of them weren't even stars, I think…just stories she made up on the spot. She was… fearless. Brilliant."
He turned back, eyes distant but glowing with something that felt like grief worn smooth with time. "I'm sorry she never got to see how beautiful her daughter turned out."
Ava's throat tightened. She wasn't used to compliments like that. She shrugged, trying to keep her voice even. "It's alright. I had my father."
Something changed in Lupin's expression. A flicker of something tight and strained. His hand moved to the small, glowing orb on his desk, which he began to turn slowly in his palm.
"Right… Anthony Johnson," he said after a moment. "I only met him once or twice. Seemed… respectable."
"He did what he could," Ava said quietly. "He always made sure I had what I needed."
Lupin nodded, but the sorrow in his eyes didn't fade. "And what about what you wanted?"
Ava looked down. She didn't answer.
The silence hung between them like a curtain until a knock echoed against the door.
"Remus," came Dumbledore's voice before the handle turned. The headmaster stepped inside, parchment in hand. "I wanted to go over the–" He stopped mid-sentence, surprised to see Ava still in the room.
"Ah. Miss Johnson. Shouldn't you be getting along to your next class?"
Ava blinked, startled at how much time had passed. "Oh–yes, sir. I didn't realize how late it was." She turned to Lupin, offering a small smile. "Thank you, Professor. I'll see you tomorrow."
"Of course," Lupin said, his voice a touch more distant now. "Take care, Ava."
She slipped past Dumbledore and out the door, her thoughts spinning as she made her way down the corridor.
By the time Ava made her way up the spiral staircase to the Astronomy Tower, the last blush of sunlight had slipped beneath the horizon. The sky above was filled with soft indigo, clouds thinning into wisps as stars began to blink into view. The wind nipped at her cheeks, tugging at her robes and loosening strands of hair from her braid the higher she climbed.
Her palms were slightly damp, though she told herself it was from the walk and not nerves.
It was just tutoring. Just Astronomy. Oliver Wood needed help. She had offered. He'd accepted. It was simple. But it didn't feel simple.
When she stepped out onto the observation deck, a chill swept across her skin. Oliver was already there, leaning against the stone balustrade with an ease that made him look more like he belonged on a broom mid-match than on a star-gazing platform. His sleeves were rolled up, tied loose around his collar, and when he turned at the sound of her footsteps, a smile tugged lazily at the corner of his mouth.
"Ava," he greeted, voice low and warm. "Didn't think ye'd leave me hangin'."
"You're lucky I didn't," she replied with a smile, moving to the stone bench. "I nearly got caught nicking a biscuit from the kitchens."
He chuckled, pushing off the railing. "Could've bribed me wi' one. I'm easy like that."
She shook her head, unrolling her star chart and weighing down the corners with a textbook and a smooth stone. He moved to sit beside her, just close enough that their shoulders might touch if she leaned a bit too far.
"Alright," she said, doing her best to keep things focused. "Let's start with Orion. You remember the belt, yeah?"
Oliver leaned in, squinting at the parchment. "That the three stars in a line?"
"Exactly," she said, smiling. "So this cluster here? That's Orion. One of the easiest to identify because of the belt."
"I always get Orion mixed up with Cassiopeia," he murmured, though his voice sounded distracted.
Ava glanced up. He wasn't looking at the chart.
He was looking at her.
Her stomach did a little backflip.
"Y'know," he said, softer this time, "ye look different outside class."
She blinked. "Is that a good thing?"
"Oh, aye," he said, that grin spreading slightly. "More relaxed. Less like ye're thinkin' five moves ahead."
She gave a soft, nervous laugh, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear. "Maybe I'm just too tired to think tonight."
He didn't respond immediately. Instead, he shifted just enough for his knee to brush against hers beneath the bench.
Ava's breath caught. Just for a second.
Her brain scrambled for something neutral. "Umm… you mentioned Cassiopeia, right?" she said quickly, pointing back at the chart. "Well, Orion's lower. Cassiopeia looks more like a 'W' and sits higher in the sky this time of year."
Oliver leaned in again, though he didn't glance at the parchment.
"Ye always wear your hair up in class," he said. "I like it better like this. Down."
That pulled her attention away from the stars. Her brows lifted. "Sorry?"
"Your hair," he repeated, voice gentler. "It suits ye. Like this."
Ava half-smiled, half-shrunk into herself. "I thought we were going to study."
"We are," Oliver said with a chuckle, leaning back just slightly. "Eventually."
She hesitated. It wasn't that she minded the attention, not entirely. Oliver Wood had been her schoolgirl crush for years. He was everything a Gryffindor should be: brave, loyal, intense. The kind of boy who always seemed to be on the verge of running off into battle… or leading practice at sunrise.
But this? This wasn't how she'd imagined it. She wasn't breathless. She wasn't glowing. She was… aware. Of the way his eyes dropped to her mouth. Of how the star chart was now little more than decoration. Of how her voice felt like it didn't quite belong to her.
"So… uh…" She tapped the parchment, trying to steer things back. "Why don't you try finding Leo next? Should be just west of–"
"Have ye always been this confident?" he interrupted suddenly.
Ava blinked. "What?"
"You're smart," he said, smiling again. "Got this… thing about ye. I noticed it last year. Should've said something then, I guess. Ye always seem like ye've got it together."
She tilted her head. "What makes you think that?"
He gave a short laugh. "Because ye do. You're one o' the few people who doesn't panic when I talk about formations. And that's sayin' somethin'."
That actually made her smile. It sounded genuine. Like he'd been paying more attention than she thought.
"I'm not as put together as I look," she said, her voice soft. "I just hide the mess better."
They lapsed into a pause that wasn't quite awkward, just… charged. The parchment rustled in the breeze. Somewhere in the distance, an owl hooted.
Oliver turned his head just enough for her to see the crinkle at the corner of his eye. "Well, whatever ye're doin', it suits ye."
She didn't answer. Not right away. Because while part of her stomach was still twisted with uncertainty, another part, the part that remembered being eleven and sneaking glances at him across the Great Hall, was glowing just a little.
"Okay," she said eventually, tapping the parchment again. "Back to the stars."
He ran a hand through his hair, his grin relaxing. "Aye. Leo, then?"
"Leo," she confirmed, pointing. "It'll rise later in the night, but this is where it should be on the chart."
The next twenty minutes were quieter, and more focused. Oliver actually tried this time or tried to look like he was trying. He asked questions, scribbled messy notes, and every now and then cracked a joke that made her roll her eyes and smirk.
It wasn't exactly the tutoring session she'd imagined.
But it wasn't a disaster either.
When they finally packed up, Ava wrapped her scarf a little tighter against the wind and gathered her chart.
"Thanks," Oliver said, slinging his bag over one shoulder. "You're a good teacher."
She gave him a faint smile. "You're a terrible student."
"Ah, but I'm a charming one," he replied, that familiar grin returning. "That's gotta count for something."
Ava didn't disagree.
As they descended the tower stairs together, she stayed just a step behind, her thoughts flickering like stars, scattered, uncertain, and softly radiant.
She didn't know what this was.
Or where it might go.
But as far as first tutoring sessions went… it wasn't so bad.
The fire in Professor Lupin's office had burned low, casting soft amber light across the stone walls. Books lay scattered across his desk, along with a stack of parchment he hadn't touched in over an hour. Outside the narrow window, the sky was awash in stars that were still and indifferent.
Remus stood near the hearth, one hand resting against the mantle, the other turning a small, silver orb over in his palm. It pulsed faintly with magic, responding to the tension in the room.
Dumbledore closed the door gently behind him.
"She's a remarkable girl," Remus said without turning around.
"She is," Dumbledore agreed, stepping further into the room. He didn't sit. "But you already knew that."
Remus turned, his face lined with something older than exhaustion. "She asked about Vanessa."
"And you answered."
"She remembers the chocolate," Remus said softly as if that single detail mattered more than it should. "Couverture. Her favorite. Vanessa used to sneak pieces into her letters home."
Dumbledore studied him carefully. "Remus…"
"I didn't tell her," he said quickly, jaw tightening. "I wanted to… God, I wanted to…but I didn't."
The orb glowed slightly brighter in his hand. He closed his fist around it.
"She deserves to know," he added after a long silence. "About her mother. About everything."
"And yet," Dumbledore said gently, "you didn't tell her."
Remus looked away. "Because you warned me."
"Not out of cruelty," the Headmaster said, stepping closer. "But because timing matters. If Vanessa had wanted her to know the truth, she would have left it behind for her to find. She didn't."
"She died before she had the chance," Remus snapped, then immediately lowered his voice. "She was going to. She told me. That night…"
He trailed off.
Dumbledore's expression softened. "You've carried the weight of that night for too long, old friend."
Remus pressed a hand to the mantle again, the firelight catching in his eyes. "I went to her house, Albus. I was warned not to. But I had to see her. And because I was there… because I couldn't stay away…"
"She made her choice, Remus," Dumbledore said, voice firm but kind. "And you made yours. You tried to protect her. We all did what we thought was right."
Remus sank into the nearest chair, the orb forgotten in his hand. "She doesn't even know who she is. She thinks her father was a hero. That he loved her."
"And you think that knowing the truth will… what? Ease that burden? Or trade it for a worse one?"
"I don't know," Remus admitted quietly. "I just… I see her. Every day. In the corridor. In class. She's Vanessa and she doesn't even know it."
Dumbledore lowered himself into the armchair across from him. For a long moment, neither of them spoke.
Finally, Dumbledore said, "Ava is strong. But she's also young. You must tread carefully, Remus. The truth is a powerful thing. And once given, it cannot be taken back."
Remus looked up, weary and worn. "She's all I have left of her."
"I know," Dumbledore said. "But that doesn't mean she belongs to you."
The fire crackled between them, casting flickering shadows across their faces. Outside, the wind whispered through the towers.
"You'll know when it's time," Dumbledore said, rising to his feet. "Until then… let her be a student. Let her be a girl."
Remus didn't answer. He only looked down at the orb in his hand, watching its glow dim and pulse in the dark.
