The Dark Side of the Moon

PROLOGUE

Hermione Granger walked hurriedly down the corridor leading to the portrait of the Fat Lady. It was just after 11 pm, two hours after students were supposed to be in their house common rooms and if she was caught, especially by someone like Snape, she was likely to be in for a week's worth of detentions.

She couldn't help herself though; she had been in the library since after dinner - studying. Seventh-year N.E.W.T's were coming up this year, and although it was only October, eight months away, Hermione figured she had better start preparing herself. Ron took the liberty of reminding her that if she spent more than two lunchtimes a week in the library, he and Harry would disown her as their friend. Well, Ron also believed that Hermione's brain would eventually self-destruct from all the unnecessary knowledge it had to store, and that it would probably happen sooner rather than later; he assured her he'd keep it in a vat for her on his bedside table so that they wouldn't donate it to a freak show, and as a good omen for whenever he had exams coming up. Hermione shook her head with silent laughter as she turned into another corridor. It was so nice to have such caring friends. On that thought, she felt herself bump into something or, as she soon realized, someone.

'Hermione?' said a man's voice.

'Oh, Professor Lupin,' Hermione said dizzily. 'I'm sorry, I didn't see you there.'

He smiled tiredly. 'That's quite all right. What are you doing walking around the castle at this time?'

'I've been in the library doing some early study for my N.E.W.T's,' Hermione said through an uncontrollable yawn.

'Already? It's still only first term.'

'You can never be too prepared.'

'You can if you're only seventeen,' he chuckled, shaking his head. 'Not that I was much better when I was your age. James and Sirius often told me I would be blind by the time I reached twenty-one with the amount of books I read, and that they would not emphasize with me in the slightest when it happened.'

She smiled, exceptionally glad that Remus Lupin, who had been the Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher in her third-year, was back again. Dumbledore was the only headmaster in England willing to take the man, who was often frowned upon for being a werewolf back into the school, as of course, were all the students who had been taught by him. After all, he was without doubt, the best Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher they had ever had.

'Well, don't just stand there Miss Granger! Get back to the Gryffindor common room straight away before I...' He paused for a moment's thought, and then waved his hand in dismissal. 'Oh, just get out of here. I never saw you.'

Hermione grinned teasingly at him and continued walking swiftly down the hallway. She stopped abruptly however, as he called out her name. She turned to find him looking at her very strangely, as if realization over something critical had just hit him. He had a hand out to stop her which he brought hesitantly up to his mouth, pulling on his bottom lip slightly. It was a gesture of thought, yet wearisome thought. His eyes looked deeply ambivalent as he sighed and faced the ground, looking as if he were making an important decision.

'Er, was there something you wanted, Professor?' Hermione asked slowly, not understanding what was going on.

Was he going to change his mind and decide that she would, in fact get a detention? He didn't look angry, but perhaps he'd get in trouble if he didn't give her one. Or maybe he simply thought that just because she was paranoid enough to start studying half a year early, it didn't give her special lenience above the rest of the school.

'Nothing. Just - just go,' Lupin said very quietly, still facing the ground.

'Professor, are you sure you're all right?' Hermione asked uncertainly; this was extremely strange behaviour for the man she had known to always have the answer to a problem. Sure, he had been a little unstable since Sirius' death, but he never let it show - everyone knew that. Frankly, it worried her.

He didn't answer but bleakly put his face in his hands, running his fingers through his hair.

'P - Professor Lupin?' she said timidly, taking a step towards him.

'Just go Hermione, you're late!' he almost shouted, causing her to jump back with a start.

Giving him one last look of alarm, she wasted no time and ran down the corridor, not knowing that he was watching her every step.

*-*-*

How odd, thought Hermione as she walked along the corridor, and she had seen a fair lot of odd things in her time. Never had Professor Lupin looked so lost, nor had she ever heard him raise his voice for no reason. Maybe he had forgotten to take his werewolf potion and was just having outbursts.

No, she reckoned, it wouldn't have side effects like that.

She made a mental note to inform Harry and Ron about it as she neared the entrance of Gryffindor Tower. She was almost at the portrait of the Fat Lady when something colourful in the midst of the dark and gloomy hallway caught her attention. Forgetting about Lupin, she stopped and looked at it intriguingly.

It appeared to be a painting of a grandfather clock. It stretched out vertically but was as narrow as a full body-length mirror. The many paints and swirls of iridescent colours were bleeding into each other animatedly, giving it the impression of melting ice-cream. However, it had a feeling of intense reality that Hermione couldn't fathom. It was almost like an image, a multidimensional projection poking out of a wall. Another strange happening tonight - she had never seen nor heard talk of this painting before. She faintly thought that maybe her fatigue was getting the better of her. Once again, Granger, you've let school take over your life. No wonder you're seeing things.

She pressed her hand to the ethereal painting and her eyes widened. Her fingers, instead of feeling the solid strokes of paint brush against them, became submerged into the picture, the colours swirling in disturbance. She quickly pulled her arm away, causing the painting to ripple as if she were touching a still lake.

Hermione peered behind the frame, expecting to find some sort of hole, yet there was only the grey, stone wall to see. Her eyes moved to an inscription on the bottom front of the gold-plated frame - Time was all that was written.

She gingerly looked up and down the corridor, starting as she heard footsteps. Instinctively, Hermione backed against the wall and, forgetting that she was in front of the painting, gasped as she fell directly through it.