A Year in the Life

I. Most Of Gryffindor

Minerva McGonagall was not used to feeling shame. She had decided long ago, before she became a teacher -- though the decision was excellent preparation -- that shame was an emotion for people who were wrong, and she was not going to be wrong, ever.

She'd grown out of never being wrong, of course, you had to, but she had then made the decision that if she was going to be wrong, she was going to be wrong for the right reasons.

And, if she looked deep down, this was one of those times; she'd been wrong, but she'd been thinking of the children, and of Dumbledore's reputation. What made this different was that she'd been wrong about a person, in ways that could have caused him serious trouble.

But it was so easy to remember Lupin as a mischievous youngster, tagging behind James Potter and Sirius Black (but ahead of Peter Pettigrew) in the little gang the four had formed. Well-fed, a decent student, a mainly responsible Prefect. A cheerful boy with a penchant for escaping trouble, unlike his partners in crime. But also irresponsible; unable to control James and Sirius as they'd hoped he would.

He was a werewolf, a danger to himself and others for one night of every month, and useless as a teacher during the days surrounding it.

And then there was the fact that he was once a friend of Sirius Black, and recognizably good with Dark Arts, and nobody knew how Sirius Black had escaped.

So it was perhaps surprising to Dumbledore, though it shouldn't have been, that after a few preliminary, almost routine objections, Severus Snape had merely sneered and gone about his business when the new Dark Arts professor was hired.

Minerva McGonagall, on the other hand, had tried every argument, ploy, and tactic in her power to get Lupin barred from teaching at Hogwarts.

That was before he'd defended Harry on the train. His owl to her about the incident had been sensible and businesslike. And then she'd seen him -- gaunt, already going grey, sunken-eyed, in patched robes and carrying a briefcase tied together with twine, for the love of Merlin. At least, she thought, no matter what else, Hogwarts might put some flesh on his bones.

Most stunningly of all, he'd become a popular teacher. The children liked him, were more or less obedient, and actually seemed to be learning something in his classes. He was unfailingly polite to the other teachers, gracious to Severus -- who happened to drop him a cutting remark or an icy glare every time they met -- and he deferred to their authority, as junior faculty ought.

All of which led her to the conclusion that she had been wrong, and the unfortunate, accompanying shame that came with having mistrusted one of her own former students.

And so now she stood, outside the door to his office -- noticing how carefully he'd charmed the name on it, neat and even -- and knocked.

"Just a moment," came a voice from the other side, hoarse but cheerful. There was a crash, as of something being knocked over, and then the door was pulled open.

She could see, in his face, traces of the boy he'd been. Now that he'd had a few square meals -- god alone knew what he'd been living on before arriving at Hogwarts -- he didn't look quite so much like the survivor of a starvation diet. He brushed his hair out of his face, and smiled at her easily.

"Deputy Headmistress, come in," he said, stepping back, and picking up a chair as she entered, placing it on its legs again. "Just erm...still getting everything sorted...well, they were sorted, but I was doing some research -- I'm sure you know how that goes -- pardon the mess..."

He gestured around the room, and she saw that several stacks of books were sorting and shelving themselves, deliberately.

"Do sit down. I was -- tea -- " he lifted up a pile of books and produced a battered tin. "Care for some?" he asked, breathlessly.

"That would be nice, thank you," she replied, settling onto the chair he'd recently righted.

"I'd meant to come speak to you before now, but I'm afraid between the grading and settling in, and of course classes..." He shook his head. "Well. I could wish for three more hours in a day. I'm not used to this much activity. I like it."

He pointed his wand at an elderly kettle, and it whistled; he dropped one of the tea-bags in, and produced two shabby but serviceable cups from a shelf.

"I've only honey and lemon," he said, apologetically.

"A little lemon, please," she answered. "Did you have something in particular you wished to see me about?"

"Oh! No," he answered, passing her one of the cups. She sipped, and he leaned against the shelf, studying his own. "No, I just thought I ought to make sure there weren't any complaints about me -- above and beyond what Dumbledore warned me to expect," he added, with a wry smile.

"Quite the opposite," she replied. "You seem to be a favourite among the students."

He flushed with pride, and dropped his head a little until the hair fell across his eyes; she remembered the gesture from when he'd been a student. "I thought they seemed to be enjoying...but you never really know."

"Teaching is not," she said, with a small smile, "for the insecure."

He glanced up sharply, as if she'd been reading his mind.

"I came to speak to you because of the success of your classes," she said, wondering how to begin. She was unused to apologising. "You appear to have overcome nearly everyone's doubts."

"Everyone but Severus, eh?" he asked, a spark of mischief still in his eyes.

"Severus...did not overtly object to your hire," Minerva continued. "I'm sure he wasn't happy about it, but he was not your most vocal opponent."

"But Dumbledore told me that the faculty -- "

"Some of the faculty," she corrected smoothly. "Felt that your link to Sirius Black, your...past history at Hogwarts, and yes, your lycanthropy...would be stumbling blocks."

"I just assumed he meant Severus."

"No. He meant me."

He looked as if she'd slapped him, and set his tea down slowly. "I see." There was a pause. "Erm. No, actually, I don't." His brow creased. "You came here, because I've done so well, to tell me that you didn't want me here?"

"No. I came to...apologise," she said. "For fighting your appointment to Defence Against the Dark Arts instructor."

He was silent for a few long minutes.

"Transfiguration was my favourite class when I was at school here," he said, finally. "Everything I know about how to be a good teacher, I learned from you. I'm glad you approve of the way I'm teaching." A pause. "You er...you do approve, don't you?"

"Yes. I do."

"Ah. Good." He picked up his tea, fiddled with the handle of the cup. "I don't blame you. You're certainly not the first."

"It was very wrong of me to judge you solely on my memories of you at school, and your friendship with -- "

"Yes, well, as I said. You're not the first," he muttered swiftly. "You will probably not be the last. I appreciate your honesty."

They lapsed into silence. He drew a breath to speak, stopped, sipped, drew another breath.

"D'you know, James fancied you," he said, with a small smile. She blinked. "Most of Gryffindor did. And I reckon a good percentage of Ravenclaw, too."

"I hardly see how -- "

"Just thought you'd like to know. An honesty for an honesty. It's not often you get to talk to your teachers as an equal -- more or less. Or to a former student, for that matter."

She nodded. "Remus, I do believe you've grown up."

He laughed, and it turned into a cough halfway through. He sipped tea hurriedly.

"I should hope so. If not, I've wasted my time scandalously."

She finished her tea, and set it on the desk. He watched her with amused brown eyes.

"I do appreciate what you've said," he murmured, as she stood to go.

"Good," she said briskly. "I'll leave you to your work."

She made it to the door before curiousity got the best of her. She sensed that no matter how surprised he would be by the question, he would never, ever take advantage of her asking it. He was deft about preventing misunderstanding or upset feelings, almost to the point of absurdity.

"Remus," she said, standing in the doorway. "Did most of Gryffindor...include you?"

He looked up from his tea. "What? Oh. Yes," he said frankly, with a warm smile. "Indeed. But then I suppose everyone fancies their teacher, sooner or later, eh?"

"I suppose so," she answered.

"I'll see you at breakfast. Minerva," he added, with something like the old boyish daring.

She smiled, and shut the door, fingers lingering on the knob for a minute before she started down the hallway, towards her quarters.

II. Question and Answer

"Professor McGonagall!"

Minerva McGonagall, moving towards the dining hall amidst a sea of hungry students, stopped mid-pace. She knew who the voice belonged to before she turned -- the mixture of student-like respect and professorial authority could only belong to one person.

"Professor Lupin," she said, with a small smile, as he caught up with her. He grinned and tossed hair out of his eyes, and for the thousandth time she was reminded of the student he'd been, twenty years before. "Did you need to speak with me?"

"Oh I -- yes -- " he dodged a second-year dashing to be early for dinner, and called an absent "No running in the hallways, Creevy!" after them. "Sorry, I'm eating in my rooms tonight, papers to grade, you know how it is, and I wanted to ask if I might drop by later, I wanted to..." he looked uncomfortable. "Er, pick your brain on a certain topic. Animagi," he said, dropping his voice so that only she could hear. It was no secret that Professor McGonagall was an animagus, of course, but she appreciated the courtesy. Then again, Remus Lupin would be the one to treat that sort of thing carefully.

"Of course, though I can't imagine I could supply anything other than personal anecdotes," she replied. He shrugged.

"I thought it might take less time if I went to the source," he continued. "If you're uncomfortable with it, of course I can do the research myself..."

"No, that's fine, I trust your discretion. With what questions you ask," she continued, a slight edge creeping into her voice.

"Certainly. Thank you, Headmistress," he finished. "Ah, I see Miss Granger, I need a word with her also. If you'll excuse me -- is nine o'clock all right?"

"Nine o'clock will be fine," she said, as he turned to leave. She watched, students still passing her, as he caught up to Hermione, and touched her arm to get her attention. They exchanged a few words; he smiled; Hermione continued on, and he turned down a side corridor, heading towards his rooms.

She frowned, curious as to why he would have questions about animagi -- it wasn't as though he could become one, after all -- but continued on to dinner, for the most part unconcerned.

***

He arrived promptly, and came bearing gifts; a tin of biscuits from Honeyduke's and a smaller one of tea.

"Gratitude in advance," he said, as he set the tin on the desk in her office. She smiled, more able to act at home with the man now that they weren't standing in a corridor full of students. "Though I should warn you this is a new brand that they're testing out..." he shook the tea. "According to the side of the tin, it's pre-spiked. The brandy's in the tea mix. I confiscated it from -- "

" -- the Weasley twins?"

He tapped his nose. "Got it in one. Apparently it's mild, but quite flavourful."

She gestured him into a chair, and conjured two delicate white teacups. He measured out a scoop of the loose tea into each, and she heated a kettle, pouring while he pried the lid from the biscuit tin.

"So," she said, in her best Lecturing Professor voice. "You had some questions for me about Animagi?"

He nodded, and took the teacup when she offered it. "Yes, I...well. I was wondering. I've not dealt much with Animagi in any official capacity, that is to say..." he shook his head. "In the many and varied jobs I've been fired from over the years, I've handled boggarts and red caps and the rest, but not many Animagi."

"I wouldn't imagine so. It's not as though we're particularly prone to violence."

"Unlike werewolves," he said, with a small smile. "I was wondering if there was any way to detect an Animagus in human form."

She pursed her lips, thinking. "Not that I know of, and I'd think I would know. Of course, sometimes the animal form takes on characteristics of the human form, or vice versa, but it's very rare. I did know one whose nose changed entirely after his first transformation -- poor man turned into a penguin..."

"A penguin!" Lupin said, with a laugh. "Hard luck to him."

She shrugged. "He was always fond of formal wear."

Lupin blinked, and she smiled again.

"That was a joke, Remus."

"Oh -- of course..." he sipped his tea. "Blimey. I'm going to have to ask the boys where they got this," he said. She tried it.

"That is rather good."

"The tin's yours. Compliments of Fred and George Weasley," he grinned. "Ahm...on the topic of Animagi transformations...is there any way to force a transformation? From animal to human?"

"I believe there's a potion. You could ask Severus."

"Perhaps I'll bribe someone to ask him. We...don't get on well."

"No, I would imagine not."

"What about..." he leaned forward, growing more serious. "Would there be a way to flush an animagus out of hiding? A spell you could cast to reveal where they were?"

"There is a very old spell, not reliable at all. It's closer to an expelliarmus -- it would only work at close range, say in an enclosed space. Can I ask..." she set her tea down. "Can I ask why you need to know?"

"Oh, I was thinking of doing a class unit on Animagi -- "

" -- it's not Dark Arts, you know," she said sharply. He froze.

"I know, oh, yes -- I know that, but historically many Dark Wizards -- I just thought the children ought to be informed. A sort of...Defence Against The World At Large class, as it were," he said quickly. "I was just mulling it over. Though it doesn't sound like there's much to tell," he added. "I -- uh -- thank you for your time..."

He spilled his tea as he rose to go, and cursed softly to himself. She stood also, and offered him a handkerchief, which he took gratefully.

"It's not like you to be clumsy," she observed. He brushed at the dark tea-stain on his waistcoat.

"Sorry I...well you know..." he looked up at her, tongue-tied. "I didn't mean to imply, Minerva, that you were in any way -- "

"It's all right," she said, surprising herself. "You're right about the history."

"Inexcusable..." he muttered. He held up the handkerchief, now also stained with tea. "I'll have this washed..."

"Is there something else on your mind?" she asked, curiously. She saw the fingers of his free hand twitch.

"No. Just lessons. School. And that," he said quickly. She crossed her arms.

"By god, you've gotten good at that," he observed. "If I were still eleven you'd have scared me to death."

"Did you actually come here tonight to talk about Animagi?" she asked.

"Yes...why else would I...?"

She was silent. He swallowed.

"There's something else you're worried about," she said, after a pause. He nodded. "Is it a student? Sometimes they do come to us when they're in trouble."

"No, it's..." he put a hand to his face, fingers tracing across his cheekbone, over his mouth. "It's Sirius," he said, finally. "Sirius Black."

Of course. She should have known. She should have realised. She walked around the desk, and took the handkerchief from his hand, carefully. He watched her warily.

"You were friends," she said. "Close friends, if I recall correctly."

"I thought I knew him," he said, almost absently.

"You must know part of the reason Dumbledore contacted you was to bring you here. To protect you," she observed.

"I'm not afraid for myself. I could always beat him," Remus continued. "It's just having him loose...knowing that he might try to come for Harry, or that he might make a try for me. Harry worries me more. He's so small, Minerva. He's so young. I don't know if I can protect him -- "

"Did it occur to you that it's not your personal job to protect him?" she asked.

"Who else does he have?"

"Dumbledore. Myself. The wards on Hogwarts are very powerful."

"They didn't stop Sirius from getting in, did they? When he slashed the Pink Lady?" He ran his hand through his hair, brushing it back. "And then, I walk into a classroom and someone has a Daily Prophet -- and there's his face. Staring at me. It hardly looks like him anymore. But it's his face, and it's everywhere. He killed James and Lily and Peter, you know..."

She heard his voice crack and saw the last shred of calm fall away -- saw the professional, cheerful, gracious professor dissolve into a frightened man who'd nowhere else to turn.

Minerva McGonagall did something she hadn't done to a colleague in years, and certainly never to a student.

She reached out and drew him close, and hugged him.

He was taller than her, but she pulled his head down until his face was pressed against her hair, held his thin, sinewy body until his own arms wrapped around her shoulders, and she absorbed the shivers running through him.

She could hear his breathing, low and shallow, easing slowly, some of the tension leaving his body. He was frightened, and he'd come to her.

He was surprisingly solid, and warm; anyone looking at the man would think a strong wind could knock him over, but there was a firm strength she could feel -- and understand. She had the same herself.

"It's all right," she soothed, quietly. "They'll catch him."

"I'm not sure if I'm more afraid that they don't, or that they do," he said, releasing her shoulders and stepping back slightly. His face was dry; she had the strong suspicion that he hadn't wept in a long time. "I'm very sorry," he continued. "You must think I'm a fool."

"Not at all."

"I didn't mean..."

"Remus Lupin, stop being a sop," she said, with a smile. He managed a weak one in return.

"Thank you, Minerva," he murmured. "I...I appreciate your understanding."

"Nonsense. I'd do the same for anyone," she lied. He nodded, and she knew he'd seen through the lie.

"I should go," he added. "I'll consider what you've told me when preparing my lesson plan."

"If you need anything else, don't hesitate to ask," she agreed, as he moved towards the doorway. "And Remus..."

He turned back, patient and calm and utterly without emotion, in the open doorway, hand on the doorknob.

"You will have to help me finish off this tea, some time," she said, holding the tin in one hand.

"It would be my pleasure," he answered, closing the door behind him as he left.