From the Eyes of the Werewolf

Recovery

Head pounding, Remus awoke, and squinted painfully at the brightness of the room, confused about exactly where he was. It took his eyes a few seconds to adjust to his surroundings and then he knew...he was in the hospital wing. Slowly, the memories started to flood back into his head one by one and he was able to piece together what had happened. Dumbledore must have brought him here to recover. Licking his dry lips and feeling very hungry, Remus sat up and looked around for Poppy.

The curtains were drawn around his bed and he couldn't move much. She probably didn't want to alert the students that I am ill. How long have I been here anyway?

Remus threw back the covers and tried to stand, but he felt a wave of nausea hit him and he sat back down. Apparently he physically wasn't out of the woods just yet. He shook his head and leaned back against the pillows again. It had been a long time since he needed rest in the hospital wing. Too many days had been wasted here...he had missed out on so much of his youth that he wasn't about to let this affect his adulthood in the same way. He had classes to teach and responsibilities to meet after all.

Before the thought could venture much further, the drapes were pulled back and Poppy looked down at her patient with worry. "I thought I heard you up," she said, taking his pulse.

"I got up, yes...and then I laid back down," Remus admitted rubbing is head.

"Um hum," she mumbled, now checking his temperature. "I would have thought that you would know better by now then to get up too quickly after something like this." She handed him a potion to drink. Not asking what it was, he sat up and gulped it down slowly, trusting her judgment, and feeling slightly better for drinking it.

"What time is it?" he asked through swallows.

"Noon"

"I've missed my first two classes." He started to get up again and Poppy placed a hand at his shoulder stopping him.

"Today...you've missed your first two classes today. You missed all of them yesterday."
Remus was stunned. "What? What day is it?"

"It's Friday."

He didn't' need any more explanation. He had been out for almost two days. He slumped over, resting his head in his hands with a sigh of exasperation. "Two full days of classes..." He looked up at Poppy questioningly. "What did you tell the students?"

"The truth." Remus went pale at her words, but she smiled and added, "That you were ill and unable to teach just now."

He flopped back down on the bed and ran his fingers through what he supposed was a very messy head of hair. And then a thought struck him that didn't bode well at all. "Who covered my classes?"

"Professor Flitwick was able to take some of them. But I believe Professor Snape was needed for a few classes that had conflicting schedules."

Oh God...

"They were both very eager to help out. And both are quite knowledgeable where defense is concerned."

I'll bet Snape was eager. As if being sick isn't bad enough, now I have to clean up whatever mess Severus has left for me!

Wanting to get back to normalcy as quickly as possible, Remus asked, "Poppy, would it be alright if I returned to my room? I really could use a rest in my own bed." He expected her to refuse, so he wasn't surprised that she was now glaring down at him. He added, "I promise I won't do anything strenuous. I'll just stay nice and quiet in my bed. Please, Poppy...I'm not a child any more."

"Indeed you are not. You're a grown man who thinks he knows better than I do what he can and cannot do. But I have the feeling I won't be able to talk you out of this. So I'll make you a deal. You may rest in your room, but I WILL be by to check up on you from time to time."

A small smile formed on Remus' lips and he agreed. He hated that he needed to be looked after, but he was willing to do anything to get out of the hospital wing. Slowly, and not without pain, Remus moved to the fireplace, tossed a handful of glittering powder from the jar on the mantle into the fire, and stepped into the green flames . A moment later he found himself stumbling out of the fireplace in his room. Not even bothering to brush himself off, he headed for the bedroom where he collapsed on his bed and drifted off to sleep.

He didn't wake again until the next morning. At his bedside was a goblet with a note next to it reading: "Drink this when you wake up", and he decided his physician had visited him in the night. Again, he drank the potion and started to feel a bit better.

A thunderclap startled him into glancing out the window. The storm raging outside beat against the window and Remus wondered if it was yet morning, seeing how dark it was. His clock told him that it was indeed morning and that he had better get up and get moving. His joints still felt stiff and he was certain he would be worse off with the weather being what it was.

He fixed himself some tea and sat at his desk looking at Katie's picture. It made him feel as if she were with him, having her own cup of morning coffee, as she didn't care much for tea. Saturday mornings were always the times when he missed her the most for they always had breakfast together before heading out to the garden to work. Trying to carefully avoid thinking too much about Katie, he ran his hand through his hair again and decided that he better take a shower before his hair turned as greasy as Snape's. Besides, there was a Quidditch match he wanted to attend. Surely Poppy wouldn't think watching the game would be too strenuous.

But the shower didn't prove as relaxing as Remus had hoped. He was still tired and although his mind was clearer now, his minor aches and pains were still bothering him. If a shower could prove to be exhausting, then going out in the weather was certainly a bad idea. He wanted to watch Harry play more than anything, but his promise to Poppy held him back. He'd just have to wait for a play by play later. If Harry is anything like his father, he'll be talking about the game for weeks to come!

Deciding upon a more leisurely way to pass his time in solitary confinement, Remus opened up his writing box and began composing a letter to Katie. She was on his mind far too much lately and he needed to communicate with her some of his feelings. In the recent past, she had been the one person who always managed to make a gray day a little brighter.

Dear Katie;

First off, thank you so much for going to all the trouble to get that Grindylow to me. It was actually quite well received. I seem to be doing all right as a teacher, would you believe. Most of my students appear to be enjoying my classes, and I even flatter myself to think they are finally learning something useful. The older students should be able to turn out some decent OWLS and NEWTS when we get there.

There was a little scare among the 6th years when they were set to counter true dark magic for the first time (they were really too young to do it when the last decent DADA class was taught) but they have come along nicely. Actually, it is rather amusing to watch how each house deals with it. The Hufflepuffs have basically rolled up their robe sleeves and charged ahead as a unified front; They approach every problem with dogged determination and an unequaled flair for team work. The Ravenclaws continue to bombard me with the oddest questions and esoteric ponderings about things, but their sharp wits thankfully force them to respond to challenges with an intellectual vigor that I am starting to see finally transferred to their physical actions. I knew a few Ravenclaws well in my day; this is a pretty standard reaction for them. The Gryffindors, of course, charge ahead where angels fear to tread and actually seem to be enjoying themselves more the trickier I make the problem. I am tempted to pair up the Ravenclaws and the Gryffindors for a double class session some time and watch them each deal with both problem. The Slytherins are, quite frankly, the most interesting group to watch. True, many Slytherins are more trouble than they are worth, but not all. Each and every one of them is very focused and very driven to succeed, of course, but I have started to notice they each go about it in different ways. Some bully others into doing their work for them (but now at last I have the authority to do something about that!); some simply put their head down and stoically go about finishing the problem on their own, and some - a select few - will work together by dividing up the problem to be solved by each one playing to their own strengths.

I should tell you - I finally had the chance to speak with my friend's son. His name is Harry and he's ... quite remarkable, Katie, and a little frightening. He looks almost exactly like his father; though he has his mother's eyes. His resemblance to James is so striking that when he speaks I always half expect that I will hear his father's voice. But he behaves, in a way, like both of his parents, depending on the situation, even though he has no clear memories of them. Yet Harry is very much his own person, and frankly I am staggered that he has turned out so well considering the hell he had to live through.

I'd intended to write a longer letter, really, but I am quite tired. Madame Pomfrey has been supplying me with a potion containing what I believe is a combination of Valerian, Petasites, and Calendula...and I do not think it agrees particularly with me. Further, in spite of the reputation Severus Snape has as a master potion brewer, I am fairly convinced he is doing something that makes the Wolfsbane Potion even more noxious than ever. If I ever complained about the taste when you were making it, please accept my heartfelt apologies. I promise if I am ever so lucky as to have you brew my Wolfsbane again, I will relish it as if it were the sweetest nectar.

I miss you sorely. Please say hello to Mrs. Noyes.

Remus

P.S.: We've a rather impressive storm going up here at the moment, so I can't help but think that the weather will turn down there very soon, if it has not already. Do please take a little more care not to get quite so many colds this year, won't you? I promise to show more sense in this matter myself as well.


Remus had hoped that he would feel better writing to her, but as he sat there and finished his letter, he actually started to feel a little more saddened. As he reread his words, he actually felt himself flush a bit as he realized he had been rather ...fussy, for lack of a better term. Katie would pick that up as well.

She'll see right through you and you know it!

Ignoring his own voice of inner warning, Remus sealed the letter and sent it up to the owlery with a house elf who came to bring him lunch on Poppy's orders. The rest of the day was spent reading and planning lessons for future classes...and wondering what Snape did to his classes while he was gone.

By evening, Remus was thoroughly bored and dying for a visitor. So when a knock came to his door, he rushed to it hoping it would be someone he could chat with for a long time, but instead it was Poppy. She'll rush right out of here. She hates being away from the infirmary.

"So sorry, Remus, but I can't stay long." Just what I thought! "I just wanted to check up on how you were feeling."

"I'm better, still achy but better."

She handed him another potion to drink and felt his pulse again. "Good, well I must get back to my other patient. For the first time, Remus, I believe I have a patient in worse shape than you are."

Curiosity got the better of him and he asked, "Oh really? And just how bad off is this patient?"

She sighed sadly, "Well, he fell almost 50 feet off a broom in the Quidditch match today. Poor dear."

"Good lord...who fell?"

His worst fear was confirmed when she said softly, "Harry Potter."

Fell off his broom? I thought he was a fantastic flier! "What happened?"

"Dementors." Remus cast his gaze downward with a heavy sigh. Poppy turned suddenly and asked, "Weren't you there when the Dementor came into his compartment on the train?"

"Yes," he said, looking back up at her. "Why?"

"He passed out then, didn't he? It appears that the same thing happened this time, only he was up on his broom chasing after the Snitch."

Remus felt himself go numb. "He's...Harry's alright isn't he?" Please don't let him be hurt!

"Physically he'll recover in no time. But the poor boy is still clutching at the shattered remains of his broomstick. I told him there was no hope of fixing it, but..."

"What happened to his broom?"

"Oh Remus, it was blown into the Whomping Willow and smashed to bits."

With this news, Remus sat down into a chair, mouth hanging open in disbelief. "This is all my fault."

Poppy made a tutting noise and pointed a finger at him. "I don't want to hear that kind of talk. How could this ever been seen as your fault? Did you send the Dementors out there to the field? Did you cause the wind to blow the broom in the direction of the Willow? Good heavens Remus, this is nonsense!"

"The willow wouldn't be here if it weren't for me."

Poppy turned sharply and opened the door. "I can tell you're in one of those moods and no amount of my chattering will ever convince you that not everything is your fault. Drink your potion and get some rest."