Idle, as in Blackwater

Idle As in Blackwater

-by Classy Cat

Chapter One What If

"The concept of unity, in which positive and negative are the attributes of the same force, in which good and evil are relative, ever-changing, and always joined to the same phenomenon - such a concept is still reserved to the physical sciences and to the few who have grasped the history of ideas."

-Arthur Miller

The Crucible

Summer 1948

The old man looked through the gradually dusting frames of his windows and sighed a deep, painful sigh that showed no hope of salvation, and little hope of ameliorating his wounds - or he perceived it to be so.

As his eyes glazed over the village - which was dying faster than they had all hoped for - he could not decide whether the appearance was the remnants of a figure which was once heroic and sick because of its' folks' achievements, or whether it seemed so because of the dust.

Blackwater was dying. What once was a spectacular tumult of streaming magic, combined with advancing civilization - the Atlantis of the wizarding world - was now a smoldering pile of wasted, wasted ashes.

"We're dying out..." he remarked dryly, in a gruffer voice than he had intended to speak in. "This is the end."

"Oh, hush; for goodness sake," the other figure intoned, from the back of their hideout, it seemed. "You're worse than Maudlin. If you don't try being less of a pessimist, you'll start talking about 'the torrent of curses' and 'hexes with no hope of salvation' like him, any moment."

The man's lips curved involuntarily into a smile at the mention of these expressions. "Lecherous old man..." he muttered to himself, not without a trace of mockery.

Yet some part of his psyche told him that Reverend Maudlin was not completely off beam in his unjustified arguments...

He collapsed into thought.

What once brought us to the highest level of advancement, he pondered, now has ruined us all.

And what was the reason? The answer was quick, weighed and picked at for months and months in his brooding mind.

Magic.

And he suddenly had an idea.

Summer 1984

"A man walks in the street.

He says, why am I soft in the middle now?

Why am I soft in the middle,

while the rest of my life is so hard?"

Remus John Lupin lifted his head and looked at the source of the singing - the sound of three-chord pop hits that vaguely resembled the '50s rock 'n' roll. He couldn't stop but smile at Ray, who was as jovial as possible and doing what most jovial men do; singing out of lark. Apparently, he was finding the book Remus was so much immersed in far less gripping than Remus thought it to be, which seemed to be the main reason he was attempting to distract him.

He had met Ray whilst walking down the field, in search of a story, more than in search of adventure, so that it would keep him occupied and in one place, for a certain time - as it was quite difficult for Remus to stay in one place and be accepted, for a long term.

But searching for a story, one would wonder why.

"Ah, finally off the ruddy book," Ray intoned complacently. "Planning to eat or sleep master Remus?"

Remus saw that he was sporting the expression of a sulking child. "Well, he's bored, and playing intellectual won't cure it; will it?" a voice in the back of his head helped impertinently - much to his annoyance.

Little voices were everywhere, he thought scathingly. In one's head, and in others' prejudices. It was these little voices that kept people occupied in the verge of subconscious that had made him leave the wizarding world.

The little interludes of the mind were precisely the reason he had not been able to pursue a career in the magical world, after graduating from Hogwarts and had chosen to major on neurobiology and cognitive psychology. Yes, it was the exact reason - he bashed maliciously at himself.

"Where exactly are we?" Remus asked Ray, ignoring his initial sarcastic remark.

But what if, he thought, what if everything his senses and mind seemed to perceive was an illusion of his intellect, as well as his physical senses. What if the things he perceived as joy and pain were mere impulses - a trick of his nervous system?

What if.

And he dared to think the most dangerous thought of the wizarding world, and ask the question that drives sanity out of minds, as fast as one can say Quidditch.

What if.

"What if magic does not really exist?"

He realized that he had asked it out loud. Seconds ago, he was able to feel the shuffling of feet, the crying babies, the shushing mothers - the generally fearful sound of the crowd turned to the highest volume, poking him at random.

Now the shack was silent as it could be, and the unfathomable sense of their decaying world hit him stronger than ever. They were all looking at him, wide-eyed and fearful.

"All of you," he said, clearing his voice in attempt of coaxing his mind into self-assurance. "All of you gather 'round and listen to me."

"What are you reading, anyway?" Ray remarked disdainfully, as if he was more concentrated on directing his horse than conversing with Remus.

"Foundations on cognitive psychology..." Remus droned distractedly, he had returned to the book.

"Ah, the usual riffraff..."

"You're being extremely bothersome."

"You're being a glitzy git."

"That's what most of my friends would say. On the other hand, a social zero - like myself - would tag my behavior as ostentatious."

The horse shifted ever-so-slightly rightwards, as Ray forgot its existence. Remus laughed.

"You doctors, all the same...smarmy blokes..." Ray grunted.

"I'm not really a doctor," Remus corrected.

Wish I was, he thought on the other hand. Anything that involves "gruesome cycle of work" and "social isolation" seems like a nice cure for my brain, at least. Although, the little voice pointed out again, what he was implying was much of a generalization. Deduction had the nasty habit of not applying to his modus operandi.

"Ha ha," Ray guffawed without heart. "You know Remus, I might find that hilarious sometime later. We're nearing a village now, so what do you say?"

Remus squinted slightly and looked over the horizon, at the village they seemed to be approaching - little, generic houses lining the hilltops; brick-red rooftops winking at him below the sizzling sun. Not much different from the others, it seemed - but that generally brought unpredictability along.

"I think I'll hop off, Ray..." he remarked thoughtfully. Sure enough, Ray had been carrying him around for more than twenty miles, it seemed. He must be more than a slight nuisance to him.

Besides, he was not exactly the conversable road buddy. He looked at the book in his lap, and stuffed it into his briefcase with his name stamped on it - mother's last gift to him.

"Bother, Remus. Sure you don't want to go along for a couple of more days?"

"Yeah, pretty sure."

With that, he hopped off the carriage; Remus Lupin as ever, and walked off with his trademark demeanor: head crooked slightly to the left and shoulders in a shrugging position of lost ardor.

The signpost ahead of him read Blackwater Village.

"Welcome to the brave new world..." he thought without heart, a feeling of nasty lightheadedness digging down the pit of his stomach - for what reason, he could not name.