Miasma

Miasma

By Dimgwrthien

Wednesday

Remus had a small handful of Floo Powder clutched in his fist at eleven in the morning, throwing it into the fire and watching the emerald flames. He pushed his head in, calling out, "Hogwarts!" and feeling his head swirling and finding Dumbledore's office.

"Hello, Remus," the old wizard greeted, smiling, his blue eyes twinkling. "I supposed you would be calling on me today. What is the occasion?"

"Well, the tutoring starts today," Remus explained. "I was wondering if I could have a brief overview of the classes that each will be taking next year so that I know what to teach them."

Nodding, Dumbledore stood up and grabbed a thick folder on his desk, passing it to Remus. Remus stuck an arm in, feeling the flames lick him, and took the folder.

"Thank you, sir."

"No problem," Dumbledore answered, still smiling. "I believe today is Ms. Johnson?"

"Yes," Remus answered, thinking for a moment. "I just want to thank you once more for this -"

"It's no problem," Dumbledore said again, waving a hand. "You have a talent for teaching that very few people seem to possess." Remus thought of Severus suddenly, biting back a retort. "They want your skill to tutor their children rather than anyone else's."

Remus thought about Johnson's letter and the crudely hidden rudeness directed towards him and the claiming that Phoebe would only been tutored by him because they trusted Dumbledore's judgment. Instead of mentioning it, Remus thanked him once more and pulled back from the flames, waiting as his head found itself back inside his own house.

Opening the folder, Remus found a note on top of everything else in Dumbledore's loopy handwriting.

Tutoring shall take place at noon inside of Hogwarts. All of the students being tutored have been informed.

Remus set the note aside, glancing at the rest of the folder. Inside was a pile of papers for seventh, fifth, and first year curriculums. The classes written down seemed to be the new schedule of each new student he was tutoring, and he took a moment to glance through them, seeing which subjects he had had as a student at Hogwarts.

Harry was glancing at the folder over his shoulder, frowning. "What's Herbology like?"

"It's like gardening, but with different plants." Remus frowned at the paper. "It looks like Phoebe needs help mainly in human transfiguration. This is going to be dreadful."

"Why? You're good at that." Harry took the paper as soon as Remus set it down, glancing it over, and a confused expression on his face.

"It's just that, if she's bad at it and she uses any of the spells on me, I'm in trouble. I hope not to be a cat by the end of the day." He smiled. "I'm sure that to get this far, she can manage enough not to do that, however."

Remus planned out what he was going to do until quarter till noon, in which he told Harry to get ready and the two Flooed to Hogwarts. Once again, Dumbledore was there, pacing around the office, dictating something to a quill that was standing by itself.

"Good day, Remus," he said, glancing up at him. "Hello, Harry. I believe Ms. Johnson will be meeting you in the History of Magic classroom in ten minutes."

Remus nodded and thanked him, walking with Harry out into the empty halls. Remus guessed that most of the students would be in class at the time.

There was a sudden movement out of the corner of his eye, and Remus turned to find a ghost on the other side of the hall. Harry had stopped walking several steps before, staring. It was a tall witch with a flowing dress and long hair that would have been dark had she been solid.

"Greetings," she said solemnly, turning towards them. Harry was still staring at her. "May I help you?"

"We know the way," Remus answered, taking Harry's shoulder and leading him on.

"Was that a ghost?" Harry asked, still looking amazed as they continued down the hall.

"Yes. She's the Grey Lady. Rather depressing ghost. The others tend to be friendlier. Here we are." He opened the door and let Harry in before him. Harry glanced around the old classroom, sitting at one of the desks, head still turning every way.

Within several minutes, the door opened again and a girl walked in. She was obviously one of the older students, with a matured body and blonde hair that reached her ears, cut short like a boy's. She wore a disdainful look and surveyed them both with contempt.

"Phoebe Johnson," she greeted, placing her bag down in one of the chairs. "I take it you're that werewolf Professor Dumbledore offered up to tutor?"

Remus had the impression that she was either pure-blood or grew up with extremely strong prejudices. "I'm Remus Lupin, yes," he answered, trying his best to ignore her new look, that was one of hatred and fear mixed.

Jutting her chin out, she said, "I'm Phoebe Johnson. And we ought to hurry or else I'll be late for my next class."

Attempting not to bite back a rude reply, Remus answered, "I believe I'll be tutoring you on human transfiguration? Let us begin with something easier such as color changing."

Harry smiled and watched closely, obviously amazed at even having such a concept spoken allowed. Phoebe threw Harry a dirty look and pulled out her wand, facing Remus.

"I'll be practicing on you, then?" she asked. When Remus nodded hesitantly, she waved her wand and he glanced down at his hands. They were a bright orange color now, very different from his usual pale color.

"That's good," he said to her. Now, another part of Transfiguration is the ability to return objects back to normal."

She waved her wand again, looking bored, though his hands turned a violent shade of blue instead. She tried once more, managing to return them to normal.

The lesson carried on for an hour until she managed to return his new mustache back into a patch of skin and reminded him of the time. As he was saying goodbye to her, she left, slamming the door behind her.

"She was nice," Harry said quietly, glancing at the closed door with an off expression on his face.

Remus smiled. "Well, some people aren't too nice, everyone should learn that." He picked up the folder and placed the papers for Phoebe in the back, glancing at the next few.

"Are we leaving?" Harry asked. Remus nodded. Taking Harry's hand lightly in his, Remus led the way through the halls, glancing around, seeing no on but the same depressed ghost sitting at another window. She gave them a mournful as they passed, but said nothing this time.

As they reached the gargoyles that marked Dumbledore's office, Remus stared at them for a moment as though that would make them go away. They stared back, faint smiles playing along their stony lips.

Suddenly, Harry said, "Licorice wand." Remus glanced down at him and saw that Harry was staring at the gargoyles that had jumped aside for them, letting them enter.

"How did you know that?" Remus asked. Harry merely gave a jerk of the shoulder in a half-hearted shrug and followed. They followed the staircase until they reached the door. Remus knocked.

"Enter," came the old wizard's voice. Remus forced the door open, letting Harry in first, and then motioned towards the fireplace.

"Could we use it to leave?" he asked.

Dumbledore nodded. "How did it go? I've heard that Ms. Johnson's temper is rather... fiery this week."

"No one has lied to you," Remus answered, smiling. "Harry, you can go first." Harry took the Floo Powder into his fist, looking slightly disturbed at the thought of having to use it again. Nevertheless, he threw it into the fire and called out the address, disappearing from view. With another word of thanks to Dumbledore, Remus followed.

The first thing he was alerted of was screaming. He did not need to look around to see what had happened: there was a group of people, standing around the sides of the room, all dressed in the deepest black robes, one of them was now stained in blood. The effect of the bright red over the robes was terrifying.

Remus pulled out his wand from his pocket, raising it, about to throw a hex at the nearest one, but he found his wand missing from his hand. It had been thrown near Harry, who was on the ground, face soaked in blood, yelling.

Acting as quickly as he could, Remus bent to grab Harry and shield him, but he felt the distinct motion of a spell being cast and found himself on the floor, feeling the most painful feeling sweep over him. His insides were being ripped out of place, stretching beyond what they could, soaking himself in blood. When he glanced at his hand, expecting to see veins squirt blood around, muscle ripping out off his bones, he realized that he was covered in Harry's blood, as was the witch standing over them.

She said something, possibly directed to them, possibly to the other Death Eaters, but Remus did not listen. All he could hear were Harry's yells as two of the larger men stood around him, casting spells on him. Fighting to his knees, Remus lunged at Harry to save him, but the woman's boot made contact with his chest, forcing the air from his lungs.

"Not yet," she hissed, bending down. Remus recognized the strong figures, the long nose, the heavy eye lids, the grey eyes under them.... When he opened his mouth, she spoke, talking to him for minutes. Remus, meanwhile, was staring at Harry, who was motionless, chest barely moving, yet the wizards were still casting spells on him.

"Stop!" he yelled at them hoarsely. Even if it did not stop them for good, it caused a distraction. "Don't... hurt him," Remus panted.

The Death Eaters watched him carefully, stopping the rapid spells cast at Harry. Bellatrix pulled his head sharply to face her.

"One reason," she said to him, eyes narrowing.

"Take me...." he panted, his voice growing weaker as he spoke. He felt worse than he ever had after any full moon. "I'm the one... watching him.... Taking me would... work...." He coughed, eyes closed tight against the pain it caused in his throat. Bellatrix roughly pushed his head back down to the ground as she stood and Remus was left there, on the ground, feeling helpless.

"Leave the boy!" she commanded, voice ringing. "The Dark Lord will retrieve him. Take the werewolf. I have a feeling that I know what to do with him." When one Death Eater started to ask a question, she snapped, "The boy will die before anyone finds him! We'll meet at the End, you know the way.

Two of the men who had been attacking Harry grabbed Remus, who was feeling too weak to fight back. He kicked once or twice, though he felt a sharp pain to his neck every time he tried.

"Harry?" he asked, voice too hoarse to hear, he guessed. There was no reaction from the boy. Remus pleaded as they dragged him out, but no response came.

He was unaware of what happened next. They may have Apparated with him, but everything was too blurred to comprehend. All he knew was that he was in a house, dimly lit and displaying books around the walls. Remus recognized it quickly.

"Severus?" he yelled, trying to make himself heard over the footsteps. He hoped they had not caught him, too; as much as he now disliked the man, having Severus free was another way to survive.

He found himself thrown onto the ground. There was a moment in which nothing happened, though he wished it would have lasted longer. All he knew was that he was under another curse and he felt as though someone was kicking him while dragging burning pokers across his body. He willed himself not to scream. It would only provoke them. A hand swept over his chest, he felt, and then there was a sharp pain, flaring his nerves for a moment before dulling back down. He gasped as his lungs were hit again and again, and he felt something snap. He could not breathe easily, and his breath was coming in searing gasps.

Remus had never felt pain that strong in his life. It made transforming feel like a paper cut. It must have been hours before he even heard a voice through the sounds of his bones cracking and his own searing gasps.

"Stop," came the silky voice, sounding almost joyful. Remus tried to look up, but the muscles in his neck yelled in pain. One of his eyes was swollen shut already and he could barely make out the thin shape. However, one look said everything - sharp angles, rich robes all in black, though not like the Death Eater's robes. In one hand was his wand.

The Death Eaters stopped, staring at Severus. Walking up to Remus, Severus looked down the bridge of his large nose at Remus. There was a small smirk playing on his lips.

"I see they have treated you well. There are a million ways to cause more pain." He threw an angry look at the Death Eaters and motioned them all away before kneeling next to Remus.

"I have a deal to make with you." Remus tried to answer, but his jaw was wired shut. A deal? With Severus? Why wasn’t he just helping him get away from the Death Eaters?

"Give us Harry Potter for your life. If you disagree, we will continue with this until you do agree. And I know plenty of other things to do to you." He smirked.

Remus, throat working soundlessly, tried to answer that Severus could still escape with him, but then he saw it: Severus was with the others dressed in black. He was on their side, not his.

Severus' black eyes were burning into his and Remus felt the answer ripped from his mind, though it never escaped his mouth. Severus' smirk grew.

Pulling out his wand, he waved it, causing a thin beam of light to float from his wand. He pressed it against Remus, and there was the smell of burning flesh. Remus tried to pull away, but Severus was gripping his arm tightly now, forcing him to stay in place. Once a long, raw burn was covering his right arm, Severus pulled the wand away.

'At least it's not Harry going through his', Remus thought, eyes screwed up tight, trying to force his mind on other things,

Agony had never felt so relieving.

There had been a time, at Hogwarts, when James attempted to make a potion, though it turned out the opposite of what it was supposed to be. It had spilled on Remus, causing him to burn.

... First Flooing trip... burning.

Remus could no longer breathe. His breath, as faint as it was, came in with droughts of burned skin, poisoning his lungs.

"You're forcing me to try this." Severus reached into his robes, which was stained with blood that was crawling up, which Remus finally recognized as his own blood. A thin vial was in his hands and he shook it. "Open," he commanded. He wrenched Remus’ jaw open, crushing it between his fingers, tossing the contents of his bottle into his mouth. Remus felt nothing, wondering if Severus had only used water, really on their side.

He started shivering against his will, his muscles seizing. Severus yelled for a Death Eater to throw him into the back room, and hands were on him, barely touching him, afraid.

It was only then that the transformation really started.

Transforming several days before had been bad enough. Now, however, the pain of his already broken bones worsened it and he felt the ligaments split around his body, felt the remaining bones shatter and glue together while burning his insides as well as his arm.

When he lost his mind, however, the pain worsened. The wolf, trying to find the source of pain, bit at his arm, which refused to grow hair but was still red and raw.

*

Waking up, Remus found himself completely unable to move. Maybe the transformation was still happening and he was not human yet. However, he spared a glance at his arms and found himself there, shreds of clothes still barely hanging onto his thin frame, in worse shape than he had ever been in before.

Images of Severus floated into his head, returning the memories of the night before to him. Was it a night ago? Or only a few hours? He clawed hopelessly at the ground, trying to move. Would it be better to wait until they figure out he's human, or would it be worth letting them in for the chance to leave.

Remus ran a hand over his ribs, which were now showing clearly through his skin after the transformation. One of the bent down suddenly, and he gingerly touched it, feeling pain sweep over him. It had to be broken.

"Severus?" he tried, voice barely as loud as a whisper, even when he tried to yell. He tried several more time, never getting anyone to enter. Finally, he sunk into a deep sleep, no longer noticing the coldness of the damp floor.

*

When he woke once more, Remus tried to guess the time. It was dark inside the room, as it had been the first time he entered. There was no point in trying to find the way out. Everything was equally dark around him. However, if he reached around for a bit, he could feel damp lumps around the room. He could not figure out what they were, though he could tell that they were freshly covered in the liquid. If he brought his hand to his face, he smelt blood, though he figured that it was only his own.

He sat there as long as he could, still trying his best to ignore the pain coming from every last part of his body.

Days passed, possibly. It could have only been hours, however. What he did know was that the door opened, letting in wand light. Remus was tempted to growl at whoever it was, just to make them think he was still transformed, though he could not manage it.

Hands reached around him before he got a proper look at who it was, and they were gentle rather than rough as they had been before.

There was a glimpse of white, and Remus managed a weak, "Headmaster?"

A gentle hushing sound came from the other man, and Remus felt himself brought up to his feet. His legs would not support him, though Remus made an attempt to walk by himself, only being grabbed by the shoulder. When he fell over completely, there was a soft hush of air moving and Remus found himself unable to move as Dumbledore, eyes grave, cast another spell, moving Remus across the room.

A thin hand gripped his arm painfully tight, though he knew Dumbledore was trying to be soft on him. He felt the air around him press tighter and knew he was Apparating.

They were outside his house, which looked as it had however long before.

Dumbledore tapped the door with his wand, letting them in. Harry was sitting on the chair, a thin scar across his face, stretching from his right eyebrow to the left side of his jaw. He smiled weakly when he saw Dumbledore, but his face hardened when he saw Remus. He tried to stand up, but Dumbledore reached out a hand, stopping him.

"He'll be alright," the wizard told Harry, letting Remus out of the spell that froze him, and then guiding him to another chair. Dumbledore stood over Remus, faintly touching his arm, pressing, watching Remus' reaction.

It took all of his will power to believe the words himself.

"He'll need to heal," Dumbledore said quietly, moving the shoulder of Remus' torn up clothing to see the deep welts below. His face was in a defeated expression that Remus had never seen before. "Lie down." Remus leaned sideways, falling onto the other half of the chair, shoulder objecting painfully.

"How did you find me?" he asked, voice still broken up. He did not really care. All that mattered was that Harry was sitting across from him, looking fine despite several scars running down his face and arms.

"Harry overheard the end of the conversation the Death Eaters were having, mentioning 'the End'. Once I was here to give you another folder on students, he was able to tell me. I sent him off to get patched up and tried to find you." He frowned. "It took a while. I had to get in and rid of the Death Eaters, then find the secret room."

Remus groaned. He did not feel up to saying anything else.

"However, I believe someone else was in there after you transformed." Dumbledore's voice was lined with concern a he pulled a small box from his pocket. He handed it to Remus, who opened it slowly, dreading what he would see.

There was part of a hand, one of he fingers taken off. However, bite marks did not take it off. It looked as though it had been cut then healed over.

Feeling rather sick when he saw the still bloody end at the wrist and the distinct bite marks, Remus tried to stand, feeling more bile rise into his throat. He did that? To who?

Dumbledore took his arm and let Remus to the bathroom, where he found himself vomiting over the loo, trying to rid the image from his mind. He heard splattering, though it made no difference to him of what happened to his own body.

'I killed someone.'

Dumbledore was holding Remus' hair out of his face, but Remus was tempted to smack him away, telling him to leave him there to die, he deserved it. However, at the thought of the hand, he found himself continuing.

"Who?" he asked, managing to stop. He felt faint and when he glanced at his reflection in the mirror across the room, he found black spots in front of his eyes and that his lips were blue. Not that it mattered to him.

"Peter Pettigrew," came the answer. Remus glanced at him sharply, regretting it as his neck gave off a loud popping sounds and he felt forward, having to be caught by Dumbledore. He took in a shaky breath, glancing at the old man.

"I'll explain everything I have figured out once you're back in bed."

And, despite his quiet arguments, Remus felt himself thrust into his room, where he was forced into a sleep filled with hands and dead bodies.