Moony's Tale

Moony’s Tale

Remus Lupin had smashed into a solid barrier. His trolley was on its side and his tattered case had emptied its contents on the cold floor.

“Must be one of the trolleys with faulty wheels,” a porter stated. Remus smirked and pretended not to be more concerned with the solid barrier between platforms nine and ten than he was with the Muggle trolley wheels, faulty or not. Was the barrier a judge of character that wouldn’t allow a dishonest man through? If that was true, the barrier should have stopped allowing Remus through since second year. Sirius might have never gotten through.

“It’s three ‘til eleven. We’d better run like Animagi,” Remus commented, studying his watch as his pace quickened.

Sirius was the best at everything, and he was the fastest as they ran through Kings Cross Station.

“You’d better start running like a bigger Animagus if you want to catch that train, Peter,” James stated without a catch in his breath, looking over his shoulder as he ran at a steady pace three or four strides behind Sirius.

Feeling he had something to prove (and knowing that losing the race meant he’d have to go to Honeydukes for supplies for their first post-full moon celebration of the term), Peter ran past Remus. When Sirius’s sensitive ears heard Peter’s heavy footsteps behind him, he held out a hand to slow James. With his head held high, Peter ran past them all, taking the lead. With a burst of speed, he ran harder and faster still, straight at the barrier. His trolley rocked from side to side, the wheels almost unable to keep up with his feet.

James, Sirius, and Remus stopped running just in time to see Peter crash into the barrier.

“Can’t you count, Wormtail?” James snickered.

“I think he’s catching the train on platform eight and three quarters,” Sirius teased, nearly collapsing with laughter.

“You’re not hurt, are you?” Remus asked as he bit his lip and tried to act concerned.

“Not the best way to start the term, but it certainly began with a bang, Moony,” Peter replied, his laughter louder than anyone’s, including the Muggle girls who seemed very amused with the scene Peter had caused.

Remus shook his head and felt punished for going in on that joke more than twenty years ago. He tilted his head to the side, looking at the sign for platform eight. True, it had been a long time since he had been a student and perhaps he had gotten the platforms confused, but there was nothing he had thought of more. When he had been a student, betrayal was an act he thought only Slytherins were capable of. When he had been a student, death was something that had not yet touched his life. When he had been a student, he was never afraid of that boy with glasses and sloppy dark hair.

Remus was no longer a student. In fact, he had left Hogwarts years ago. In the years that had passed since he had last traveled to Hogwarts, he had been betrayed by a Gryffindor, death had touched his life thrice, and he was now afraid of the boy with glasses and sloppy dark hair.

He shook his head. He had to stop thinking like a student and start thinking like a professor. He returned the items to his case and reloaded his trolley. Remus wanted to believe the Hogwarts Express had been waiting for him for the past twenty years, waiting to take him back to his classes, his detentions, and his friends. Now though, he would be teaching the classes, giving out detentions to others, and his friends certainly wouldn’t be there.

But Sirius might.

Remus didn’t want to think about Sirius and the terrible things he had done to James, Lily, and Peter, or the terrible things he might do to Harry. Feeling less like a professor and more like a hero, Remus wouldn’t let Sirius do anything. He wouldn’t let Sirius kill. He wouldn’t let Sirius harm Harry. He wouldn’t let Sirius take someone’s life away from them and leave them to live alone with only their grief to keep them company. Remus didn’t think Sirius deserved the Kiss. If there was a way, magic or Muggle, Remus wanted Sirius to live through what he did, waking up everyday with the hope that reality had been a nightmare. He wanted Sirius to need a friend, friends who were all dead or in Azkaban. He wanted Sirius to know what it was like to be Remus Lupin.

Poor Harry, Remus thought as he walked through the barrier between platforms nine and ten. Harry never knew. He never knew his parents, his godfather, or a quartet of unlikely animals: a rat, stag, werewolf and dog.

The Hogwarts Express had barely come into focus before Remus searched Platform Nine and Three Quarters with his eyes for Harry. He wasn’t looking for messy black hair though. He was looking for a large number of red heads. In Dumbledore’s correspondence over the previous year, he had assured Remus of Harry’s safety and mentioned twice that he would be traveling with the Weasleys. Although there was a sporadic red head here or there, there were no Weasleys and no Harry. But it didn’t bother Remus much. He wasn’t displaying the bravery usually common to Gryffindors, and was rather afraid of seeing Harry.

“He looks just like his father,” they all said. And that’s what Remus was afraid of.

Students were buzzing around Platform Nine and Three Quarters as though it were a hive. Eavesdropping was unnecessary. He knew what their conversations consisted of. “Good to see you again!”, “How was your summer?”, or the awkward “You…er…look different.” There was a strange imbalance between the past and present. It seemed like some things never changed, yet it seemed like everything had changed. There were the same pale green dustbins (“If you think of getting on that train, Snivellus, we’ll hex that dustbin to swallow you alive!” Sirius had teased.). The same wooden benches (one in particular with the same “JP+LE” carved into the seat). And the same scarlet engine waiting to take some lost witches and wizards home.

It all felt like going home, but what was a home without a family? The faces were all different, including Remus’s own.

But there was a face that looked familiar. By studying his body language, Remus could tell there was something going on that nobody could see. There were feelings, painful feelings, that nobody would acknowledge, not even the dark haired boy who owned them. He had only ever seen pictures of Neville Longbottom, many pictures displayed by his proud parents. Their son was an object for show and tell to anyone who would serve as an audience. Remus had been that audience to the Longbottoms and the Potters as well.

Neville was preparing to board the train, exchanging goodbyes with an elderly woman wearing a vulture topped hat. Feeling exhausted from his own feelings and the full moon that had recently passed, Remus followed Neville’s example, although without anyone to say goodbye to, and prepared to board the train. After his possessions were moved from the trolley to the storage racks for transport to Hogwarts, he climbed onto the train and walked toward the front to their compartment. But it wasn’t their compartment anymore. It was occupied by students discussing Quidditch. It didn’t take the brains of a Hogwarts professor to figure out that one boy, who was speaking and waving his arms around as though he were going to fly without a broom, was captain for one of the house teams.

“They won’t get a goal, they won’t get the snitch, and we’ll get the House Cup!” the boy shouted as Remus turned away. “Did you all forget to pack your enthusiasm?” he heard the boy ask.

Students were pushing past Remus, all piling into the compartments toward the front. He felt out of place, and was earning stares from students who couldn’t figure out who he was, or why his robes were so tattered. One girl pointed at him and covered her mouth, while another girl rolled her eyes. He wasn’t surprised to see the prejudices hadn’t changed amongst the students since he had been one himself. It wasn’t written in his lesson plans, but if he could change the mind of one student for the better, and teach them that werewolves were human too, he would consider excusing them from homework.

The further back on the train he went, the fewer and fewer students there seemed to be, until at last he discovered an empty compartment. He pulled the door closed after he stepped inside. He had only enough strength to toss his case in the overhead compartment before collapsing onto the seat. The day, as well as the school term for that matter, was only beginning.