Professor Lupin's Apprentice

XII: School Supplies and Werewands

"I can see why you like him," I said, as Remus led me out of the secret corridor to the headmaster's office.

"I don't like him," Remus replied, shaking his head ever so slightly.

I turned to face him, surprised. "You don't?"

He smiled. "I love that old man."

Now I shook my head. "You had me worried."

"I owe him my life in more ways than one," he continued, his expression becoming wistful. "And I'll never be able to repay him."

"I think the fact that you are still alive is all the payment he wants."

Remus stopped walking when I said that, and I spun to face him after two steps when I realised he was no longer beside me. He looked stunned.

"What?" I asked.

"You're right," he said, with a blank expression. "I've never thought about that before, but you're absolutely right."

I took his arm, and we continued down the corridor. "Remus?"

"Hmmm," he said, turning his head.

"May I call you 'Moony'?"

"If you like." He smiled and patted my hand where it rested on his arm.

Remus showed me all around the castle but—probably for the first time in his life—followed Dumbledore's instructions to the letter. This did not prevent him, however, from showing me where the secret passages were located, although we travelled through none of them. I was quite impressed with the castle. I met Nearly Headless Nick, and liked him a great deal, although I decided to call him Sir Nicholas. Luckily we managed to avoid Peeves. The moving portraits shocked me at first, but I grew accustomed to the idea. When we passed the Fat Lady, she inhaled sharply, sounding almost as if she were in pain.

"Why, bless my soul! If it isn't Remus Lupin!"

"Shhh," Remus said, putting a finger to his lips. "I don't want my condition to cause Melinda here any problems at school, so we're trying to keep a low profile. You know, incognito."

With this, the portrait swung open, revealing a passage behind it.

"Oops," Remus said, glancing at me with a shrug. "I guess 'incognito' is the password this week."

"Where does that lead?" I asked.

"Gryffindor Tower. Do you want to go in? You are a Gryffindor, after all."

I thought about that for a moment, but decided against it. "No, I wouldn't feel right. I'm not going to be living there. It'd be like invading the children's privacy."

Nodding, Remus closed the portrait hole, bidding farewell to the Fat Lady, and then we continued the tour. He showed me the Great Hall, where I'd be eating lunch at least, walked me past the dungeon, where I'd be having Potions class with Professor Snape, and pointed out some of the other classrooms. Our tour concluded with the Quidditch field and a stroll by the lake. Remus wanted to introduce me to Hagrid, but unfortunately the gamekeeper wasn't home, probably also in Hogsmeade. After that, we went to the Whomping Willow, and Remus showed me which knot to push.

"I thought Dumbledore said to stick to the standard passages," I protested.

"I'm sure he didn't mean this one," Remus said. "I think he considers this more or less my home, as I often still do. Besides, this is the easiest way to get to London."

I didn't understand how a supposedly haunted house in the middle of Hogsmeade would get us to London, but I imagined Remus knew whereof he spoke. Following the passage, we entered the Shrieking Shack. He conjured some wood and sticks for kindling, and proceeded to light a fire in the old hearth with his palm flame and an old issue of The Daily Prophet that was lying around. When the fire was going strongly, he pulled a small pouch from his pocket.

"This is Floo powder," he said. "The fire will take us directly to Diagon Alley in London." He dusted the fire with the sparkling powder, and the flames turned green. Then, with an arm around my waist, he started toward the fire.

"I'm not going in there!" I said, pushing him away.

"It's perfectly safe," he said reassuringly.

"No!" I said, frantically.

"Don't you trust me?" The fear I felt must have translated to a look of pleading because Remus apparently decided to take a different approach. "Tell you what: I'll go first and come back to get you. That way you can see it's safe."

I nodded reluctantly.

He stepped into the fireplace, and calmly said, "Diagon Alley." He then began to spin and disappeared. The fire shortly returned to yellow. I couldn't believe my eyes, and I was half-tempted to stick my hand in the flames, in case this were some sort of illusion.

"Remus?" I asked timidly.

The flame then glowed green again, and Remus stepped back into the room, with a little soot on him, but looking otherwise normal.

"See?" he asked, brushing his sleeves. "Perfectly safe."

I grabbed him about the middle, burying my face in his chest.

"I didn't think I was gone long enough for you to have time to worry," he said, pecking my brow. "Clearly, I was wrong. Are you ready?"

"No," I said, giving him what I was sure was still a rather unnerved look.

"If it makes it any easier, close your eyes. I'll make sure we get out at the right place."

Against my better judgement, I closed my eyes and let him lead me into the fireplace. It was warm, but not overly so. When he said, "Diagon Alley," I felt something pulling my stomach and, the next thing I knew, he led me somewhere else.

"You can open your eyes now."

When I did, we were standing, covered in soot, on the hearthrug of a pub called The Dragon's Nest. Remus dusted me off and I in turn did the same for him. Once we were presentable, he asked where my shopping list was, and I pulled it from my pocket. We wandered out of the pub and down the street to Gringotts Bank to change my money, none of which I remembered to bring.

"Oh Remus!" I said, catching his arm before we entered the bank. "I haven't brought any money."

"Blast!" He began to dig in his pockets. "And I think I left mine in my other trousers."

"Is there an ATM around here anywhere?"

"A what?" he asked, brows knitted in his adorable fashion.

"It's a sort of ... Muggle money machine," I said, for lack of a better explanation.

"Oh, well I've never seen one, but if I take you to the Muggle part of London, do you think you can find one?"

I nodded slowly, trying to keep from smirking. "I think I can manage that."

He screwed up his face in a mildly patronising look, but then smiled and slung an arm about my shoulders. We walked on for a bit until we came to Knockturn Alley. He pulled his wand and studied the wall for a bit, apparently counting the bricks. When he'd located the one he wanted, he tapped the wall with his wand. The bricks trembled with a rumble, and a door opened in the wall. Our journey ended with stepping into a seedy-looking pub called The Leaky Cauldron. I clung to his arm as he walked me quickly through the pub and out the front door onto a fairly normal London street.

A few blocks later, I found an ATM and, within minutes, I was punching numbers and withdrawing money. After Remus showed me the wonders of Floo powder, it seemed only fitting I should show him the marvel of automated teller machines. Of course, he wasn't scared as I was, but I've never known anyone to be burnt by using an ATM. Robbed perhaps, but not burnt.

Once back in Diagon Alley, our first stop was the bank, where I changed my Muggle pounds into Galleons and Knuts. Remus had explained wizard money to me before, but today he added that he usually avoided Sickles because of the high silver content. As I had no wish to make him nervous, I decided to avoid Sickles as well.

Our next stop was to buy a wand. Remus recommended Ollivanders and, when I saw the sign over the door, the reason was obvious. It read: "Makers of Fine Wands since 382 B.C." After the bell on the door tolled our entrance, a man with strangely silver eyes approached us from behind he counter.

"I haven't seen this one since he was a boy," he said.

"Hello, Mr Ollivander," Remus said fondly.

"And this must be your—er—wife?"

"Ah, no, just my girlfriend," Remus answered, only slightly pink this time.

I decided to let the "just" slide.

"Melinda, this is Mr Ollivander, one of the best wandmakers in the world. Mr Ollivander, this is Melinda Rhoades."

"You'll have to forgive me," Mr Ollivander said. "I thought you might be here to buy your oldest child a wand."

"No, we're here to buy a wand for me," I said, "since I'm starting Hogwarts on Monday." Seeing his puzzled expression, I added, "The headmaster gave me special permission to enrol so late. So, what should I look for in a good wand?"

"Oh well, actually, the wand picks the witch or wizard," Mr Ollivander said, pulling out a tape measure, which fluttered all around me, taking measurements all on its own.

"I told her that a wand is a personal thing," Remus chimed in.

"I tried to use his wand," I added, "but I couldn't get it to do anything."

Mr Ollivander clicked his tongue disapprovingly. At first I thought this was directed at my ineptitude, but it seems it wasn't. "For shame, for shame. Making the poor girl think she was a Muggle by giving her your wand."

Remus examined the ceiling whilst whistling, hands clasped behind his back, rocking up and down on the balls of his feet.

"What do you mean?" I asked the wandmaker whilst ignoring my boyfriend.

"You couldn't have got my wand to work no matter how powerful a witch you are," Remus interrupted.

"His wand was specially made for a—for someone with his condition." Mr Ollivander's voice dropped as he leant closer. "Dogwood and lycanthrope hair wrapped with wolfsbane petals in the core. It's a precaution so no one can steal his wand and use it on him when he's transformed. Anyone who could use it would also be transformed, you see? Well, except for an Animagus, but they are even more rare than lycanthropes."

"Oh," I said, and backhanded Remus across the chest. "You weasel!"

Remus' hands went immediately to his chest in mock offence, where he clasped my hand against him. "My dear, I believe I'm a little higher on the food chain than that. Besides, I was under orders. Dumbledore wanted to speak to us both before you found out you were a witch." A furtive wink and smile told me the day of the picnic was not to be mentioned here.

"I don't sell many 'werewands,' as I affectionately call them," Mr Ollivander continued, "but I like to keep a supply on hand."

Shortly, we set about the task of finding a wand that would chose me. Mr Ollivander tried several boxes and showed me a huge assortment. The final choice was fairly obvious, I thought. The lid was barely removed before the wand began to vibrate. When I picked it up, the wand felt as though it had always been a part of my hand. And, when I swished it, the room filled with a rainbow of sparkles.

"Excellent choice," Mr Ollivander chimed, beaming, and replaced the box lid. "Ten and three-eighths inches, ebony with four-leaf shamrocks and fairy dust. That makes sense. You have some Celtic blood, don't you, my dear? I don't know why I didn't notice before."

"And ebony to match your hair," Remus said, running a hand through said feature lovingly.

I paid for the wand and thanked the man before we left. Outside the shop, I mentioned I was surprised Mr Ollivander made 'werewands.' Remus explained the wandmaker's brother was also a lycanthrope—and had in fact supplied the hair for all the wands—so Mr Ollivander was highly sympathetic.

After that, we bought my books, my cauldron, my robes, various nasty looking things for Potions class, and other sundry items. I decided to pass on an animal for the time being. Remus and a cat certainly wouldn't mix, I don't care for rats or toads, and I doubted I would have any use for an owl or, if I did, the school owls would suffice. By the end of our afternoon of shopping, we were both hungry, having missed our tea. We decided to have something at The Dragon's Nest before starting back to the Shrieking Shack and home.

"Why does everyone you know keep asking if we are married, or if we have plans to marry?" I asked, when we had sat down to two pints of ale and sandwiches.

"I suppose they assume we're a bonded pair," Remus replied with an air of indifference.

"What does that mean?"

"You know ... mated." He slowly lowered his mug and, trying to be casual, glanced over the rim. "Wolves mate for life," he added with a shrug.

My heart leapt into my throat. This was the perfect opportunity for a proposal if he was going to make one. I looked at him expectantly, thinking, Oh, please ask me! Please, please, please! Then my heart took a dive into my stomach and a chill washed over me from the inside out. What if he had a mate already? Someone he'd met when he was younger? Someone he no longer loved but couldn't leave because they were bound for life?

He searched my face. "What?"

"Nothing," I said finally, crestfallen, raising my mug to take a deep drink of my ale. "Nothing at all."

Shortly after that, we went home. Along the journey, he asked several times if I was all right, to which I always replied I was fine. Of course, the unspoken message was, "No, I'm not fine, you oblivious dolt! And if you loved me, you'd try a little harder to find out what's wrong!" Once we were home, he asked if I wanted to try my new wand, and I declined, opting to do some washing up in the kitchen instead and switching on the radio to drown the sounds of my crying.

During the first few months of our relationship, Remus had developed a passion for what he later called "Muggle music." I was initially surprised a man his age had never listened to the radio, but with all the other things he had no knowledge of, this made perfect sense. His musical tastes were as eclectic as my own, including everything from classical to heavy metal—although he couldn't abide Metallica's "Of Wolf And Man." I'd considered that one of their best songs, but I made the sacrifice for this man who had become my world.

Remus was especially fond of U2, Aerosmith, and the Beatles. As I worked, "Maybe I'm Amazed" came on the radio. I'd always loved that song, so I sang along. Sometime during my cleaning stint, I forgave Remus, so I was no longer crying. When I'd finished, I walked out of the kitchen to join him, drying my hands. He sat on the sofa looking dazed, and now he was crying. I put down the dishtowel and watched him until the song finished.

"Remus, what's wrong?" I asked, approaching and kneeling before him, hands on his knees.

"That song ... Was that the Beatles?" he asked, wiping his eyes.

"No, but it was Paul McCartney, after he'd left the Beatles, but before he formed Wings. I think he wrote it for his wife, Linda." I added the last statement as a hint.

"I think that is the most beautiful song I've ever heard."

"It's always been one of my favourites."

"That's exactly how I feel. I'm ... amazed ... that you love me."

"Oh, Remus," I said, going up on my knees and sliding my arms up his back. "That's just how I feel ... Maybe we should make that our song."

"Our song?"

"Some couples have a special song that expresses how they feel or something special about the night they met or the night they fell in love."

"Well, then we should make that our song." He held me tighter, then cleared his throat. "Melinda?"

"Yes?"

"Will you marry me?"

I practically screamed in my squeal of delight. "Yes, Remus!"

"Just like that?" he asked, pulling back to look me in the eye. "You don't have to think about it?"

"No, I don't have to think about it," I answered, shaking my head adamantly. "I've never been more sure about anything in my life!"

After we'd kissed and held one another a bit, and I'd cried a great deal more, he said, "I was going to propose in the pub this afternoon, but you looked like a scared rabbit. I thought that was probably the wrong place to ask."

"I was sitting there thinking how much I hoped you'd ask," I confided. "Did I look scared? I suppose I was worried."

"You? No!" He winked.

"I starting thinking you had an estranged wife somewhere, and I couldn't compete because you were a bonded pair."

Now he shook his head. "No, there's no one else. I knew I wanted to marry you the first time I saw you. But, of course, dinner was prerequisite." He grinned, his eyes sparkling. "That's why I stayed so long the night we met. I simply couldn't leave without talking to you. I stayed much longer than I should have. Far too long. So long I'm sure you heard my howling after I transformed."

"I did, but I tried to make myself believe it was only a dog."

"I usually don't howl when I'm taking the Wolfsbane Potion, but I was just so happy, I couldn't help myself. I'd finally found my mate. You are my mate, and you always have been."

"Oh, Remus!" was all I could manage, throwing my arms around his neck. I started crying again.

"I guess we'll have to pick out an engagement ring now," he said, pulling back again and wiping my tears with his thumbs.

"If you want, but let's go to the other jeweller's. I don't think I can face Mr Huggle again."

He nodded. "That's fine. I haven't been working on my accent as I should."

The next morning, Remus moved his belongings upstairs.