Shack

"You're bruised and sore because you escaped the..."

Remus' face paled as he looked up at me. "I-I what?"

Taking a deep breath, I steeled myself before replying. "Someone found their way into the tunnel last night."

"One of my roommates?" he asked hesitantly.

"No. Someone else," I said carefully. It struck me as odd that he thought one of his friends might have gone in on the night of a full moon. After all, they all knew about the other side of Remus.

"Oh, God! I didn't hurt anyone, did I?" Fear replaced the tentativeness.

I could see very clearly that Remus was genuinely shocked and frightened.

"Another student managed to pull the first from the tunnel before you could cause any serious damage."

Remus began to cry hysterically. "No! No!"

Madam Pomfrey was suddenly beside us. She took the crying boy by the shoulders and tipped a vial into his mouth. I left the infirmary as the school matron eased her patient back onto the pillows.

***

It's important for the head of an institution to show his presence periodically. As for myself, I make it a practice to frequently wander the corridors of Hogwarts, and appear at nearly every meal in the Great Hall. It is less intimidating for the school's headmaster to greet his students in a seemingly casual manner, rather than the formal 'being called to the headmaster's office for a chat' approach. Sadly, there are a number of students who make frequent visits up the stairs to my office anyway.

Taking note of my empty stomach, I entered the Great Hall for a bite of lunch. Some of the bolder, or those wishing to curry favour, greeted me. The students appeared very much as they always do at the lunch hour. Some sat pushing as much food into their mouths as they could, while others ate more slowly. More than just a few fifth and seventh years had books propped against pumpkin juice pitchers. As always, the Ravenclaws with open books in front of them outnumbered the other houses.

I glanced at the Slytherin table. More often than not, I recall, the boy now residing in the infirmary would sit with one hand holding a book while the other slowly moved food to his mouth. I now wonder just how much food he actually got into his stomach.

Sitting in my chair I looked across the vast room. The Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw tables had groups of happy students seated on the benches. At the Ravenclaw table, I saw young Mr. Bones talking earnestly with a young woman he was working at impressing. It seemed unlikely that Miss Boote would fall under his spell, but stranger things have happened when the heart is at stake.

An unconscious sigh of contentment passed my lips when a steaming pasty appeared before me. My mouth watered in anticipation of the crumbly crust and of discovering what was inside the delectable titbit. Crumbs of the delicate pastry fell into my beard in my haste to enjoy the treat.

I ripped into half of the steaming hot pasty and found the need to take a deep breath of cool air. My eyes roamed across the room again. The Gryffindor table looked somewhat ill at ease. They knew that three of their members were absent and didn't know why. I could see Peter Pettigrew sitting alone at the Gryffindor table. He looked nervous at being without his friends and wiped his hands across his face in a very peculiar motion.

Having finished my delectable pasty, I found myself pushing away the Spotted Dick. Minerva did a double take at seeing my refusal of the dessert. Pushing my chair out, I slowly walked back through the Great Hall, stopping to chat with a seventh year Ravenclaw about a Transfigurations problem he'd been sorting through for several months. Though I no longer teach, I am open to working with students interested in advanced problem solving.

I was beginning to climb the stairs to speak with James and Sirius when a nervous voice stopped my progress.

"Headmaster? Headmaster Dumbledore?"

I turned, hearing rapid footsteps climbing up toward me.

"Sir, may I have a word with you?" he said, breathing very hard.

"Certainly, Mr. Pettigrew. What may I do for you?"

"I- I wondered if you knew where James and Sirius are? I've looked everywhere and I can't find them," he said anxiously.

"Why don't we have a little chat in my office?" I replied.

"I-I have a class in..."

"This won't take long."

"Well... All right, sir."

As we approached the statuary sentinel guarding my office, it moved aside, revealing the moving stairs. Peter rode two steps behind, up into the heights of the headmasters' tower. The door swung open at my approach and I waved the teenager into one of the chairs.

"What was it you wished to speak about?" I asked.

Peter moved his hands over his face and looked at me.

"Well, I can't find either James or Sirius."

"When was the last time you saw them?"

"We all returned to the common room after dinner. Sirius went out and came back and..."

"Was there anything unusual about that?"

"No, not really. Sirius was laughing so hard he could barely speak. He asked where James was and when I told him James was in the dormitory, he ran up the stairs. Then James came running and went out the entrance. About forty-five minutes later, Professor Flitwick came and Sirius went with him. And Flitwick won't..."

"Professor Flitwick," I reminded the student.

"Yes, Professor Flitwick won't tell me where he is! And no one knows where James is, either!"

I sat back and looked deeply into the teenager's eyes. He appeared to be genuinely concerned for his two friends' absence.

"There was an...incident last evening," I said slowly.

Peter's face paled and he blinked rapidly. "James wasn't hurt, was he?"

"Why would you assume James might have been injured?"

He licked his lips and washed his face with his hands.

"You know about Remus' condition, don't you?" I asked.

Horrified, he nodded his agreement and licked his lips again.

"You all know how to get into the Whomping Willow," I stated knowingly.

A flurry of emotions passed over his face.

"You go into the Shrieking Shack sometimes, don't you?"

He froze in his chair.

"I'm not upset. It's perfectly understandable that four boys would want some place to get away from their teachers' prying eyes."

The slightly plump young wizard relaxed on the chair. Peter dug in a pocket and withdrew a few sunflower seeds.

"Did you ever tell anyone else how to get in?"

"Of course not, Headmaster," he said huffily and cracked a seed open. "That is our secret. It's where we plot..."

"Plot?"

"Well, not plot. More come up with ideas of things to do to..." Peter stopped himself too late, again. He nibbled at the nutmeat.

"I see. You all like to come up with ideas?"

"Sure, ideas."

"I imagine it takes a lot of time to plan out some of your more imaginative pranks," I said with a studied nonchalance.

"You'd be surprised just how much work it is to think up..."

"Oh, I can believe that," I agreed.

"Do you know it took James and Sirius a month to create that Nose Hex and catch Snape with it? They practiced it on me until it was right!" he exclaimed emboldened by my agreeableness.

"You enjoy helping them out, then?" I wasn't finding it very difficult to stop Peter speaking so carelessly. I was, after all, learning quite a bit more about the boys than I'd known before.

"Sure, anything to get Snape. As James says - it isn't a good week unless something happens to that git!"

"Really? He said that, did he?"

"Of course! 'Cept he's been a bit lax recently. He's more interested in flirting with Evans, though that hasn't been going quite as Prongs thought it would. You know, Quidditch star and all that. Evans is still barely giving him the time of day. Sirius has been in a right tiff over that; he thinks Snivellus is trying to horn in on her."

"Do you think he is?"

"Think he's just to try to get a rise out of James."

I smiled encouragingly at him.

"You don't think Lily really is interested in Mr. Snape, do you?" I asked.

"Hmmm, she doesn't dislike him," he said thoughtfully. "She thinks Snivellus studies hard and is really good at Potions, but she gets better marks from old Slug-I mean Professor Slughorn."

"Has Miss Evans told you that, or is it your own take?"

"It's what I've noticed," he said self importantly.

You're a very observant young wizard, aren't you? I thought to myself. I might just have misjudged you as well.

"You see, James and Sirius sometimes forget that other people notice things, too. Like Slughorn. He thinks Snape is brilliant in Potions, but he doesn't think Snape would ever be able to do anything for him. If you know what I mean.

"Really?"

He coughed a laugh. "Definitely; he likes people who can help him advance, if you know what I mean. And Snivellus can't do anything for him, coming from the sort of background he does."

"And what sort of background is that?" I asked. Peter was giving me a perspective on his view of his fellow students I hadn't noticed before.

"Well, it's ironic, don't you think, that someone from Slytherin isn't a pure-blood? I don't think old Slughorn thinks much of that," he said. "Some of Snape's housemates follow Slughorn's lead. I mean, when have you ever seen one of them back him up in a fight?"

Doing my best to remain unfazed by his words, I folded my hands and looked off into the distance.

"What did happen at the Whomping Willow?" Peter finally asked.

"Someone, not one of your roommates, found a way into the tree's entrance."

"Really? Who was it?"

He looked very curious about who'd managed to find their way in. I looked down at my clasped hands for several moments. He would ask James and Sirius what had happened when he had the chance. I'd have to insure that wouldn't happen.

"I'm not at liberty to say who it was."

He frowned before asking, "W-what happened to him?"

"I am not in a position to say anything more."

One could easily imagine the wheels in Peter's head whirling at an incredible rate.

"Was James hurt? Is that why he's been missing? Was that why Flitwick took Sirius--to visit him?"

"As I stated earlier, I will say no more."

"But what about James?" he asked again. He screwed up his forehead in thought.

"You are free to leave, Mr. Pettigrew," I said, dismissing him.

He rose and began to cross the room. Turning back, Peter asked, "What about James and Sirius?"

"They may be rejoining you soon."

"What does that mean?"

"I am sir or Headmaster, Mr. Pettigrew. It means just what I said."

"Yes, sir." He turned and slowly stepped on the moving stairs to descent to the corridor below.

***

I sat for some minutes digesting what had passed between us. Feeling every one of my years, I moved to sit in my private study on my favourite well worn chair with my feet propped upon the ottoman, and reflect on all that had occurred. I waved my hand at the small lap robe; it covered me from chin to toe with downy warmth.

The hourly chimes sounded one, two, and three before I rose from the comfort of my retreat. Stretching, I braced myself to interview the remaining two teenagers.

Exiting my high nest, I descended to the main school level. Students were moving between lessons in a scurrying flow. Many acknowledged my presence with a quick "Headmaster!" before continuing on their path.

"Good afternoon, Headmaster," a young woman's voice said.

Looking over, I saw Lily Evans, her arms heavily laden with books.

"Might I have a moment of your time, Miss Evans?"

Biting her lower lip and shifting her texts, Evans managed a half smile.

I motioned her into an empty classroom and shut the door behind us. The teenager deposited her pile on one of the tables and looked at me expectantly.

"I don't doubt that you've noticed some of your housemates have been absent," I said, opening the dialogue.

"What'd they do this time?" she queried and blew her fringe from her eyes.

I rested one hip on the table and looked down at my hands. "I'd like to know how close you are to Mr. Snape."

"Severus? We're assigned to work together in Potions. We study together and sometimes we talk, that's all," she replied.

"I must ask - do you believe Mr. Snape is interested in you romantically?"

Miss Evans looked at me and blushed to the roots of her hair. "Er, no. He's nice enough in his own way, but I think he's got a bit of a chip on his shoulder with Gryffindors. Sometimes he says the most outrageous things when he's provoked."

"What sort of things does he say?" I asked.

"Well, nothing that he hasn't apologised to me for."

"Do you accept his apologies?" I pushed the young woman further.

"Of course! James and Sirius are to blame for most of the wretched situations, and that gives him little option but to lash out at someone. He--he comes from a mixed family himself. You'd think Sirius would understand the position he's in within Slytherin and leave him be."

Miss Evans sat on the table beside me and toyed with her long braid.

"Mr. Potter likes you a great deal, doesn't he?"

An expression of happiness lighted her face. "Yes, sir."

"What does James think of your working with Severus?"

"He's not happy about it, but I told James I don't appreciate his bullying Severus. James hasn't been as mean to him this term, though I can't say the same of Sirius," she said earnestly.

Smiling, I said, "Thank you for your time, Miss Evans. Professor McGonagall was thrilled with your latest Transfigurations project. I must add - it was a very well planned idea. Keep up the good work."

Lily Evans beamed at me and walked to the painting of the Fat Lady, while I continued to the corridor containing Professor McGonagall's private suite and the guest rooms.

I spelled the door open. James Potter stood and rushed toward me. He was clearly anxious.

"Is Remus all right, sir?" Genuine concern coloured the tone of his voice.

"Mr. Lupin suffered rather severe bruising to his upper body when he broke through the door," I commented.

I saw James turn green, yet I felt no need to soften my words. "From your Defence lessons you know what a werewolf can do. You were lucky to escape alive."

"W-what about Snape?" James voice was very frightened.

I looked at him over the top of my half-moon glasses. With great deliberation I moved to the sofa and sat. "He survived the attack."

"W-was he hurt?"

I took my time in answering. I could see James growing more nervous as I chose my words.

"Mr. Snape will--survive."

"Oh, God, no!" The teenager dropped to his knees. "Why did he do it?"

"Why did who do what?"

"Why did Sirius tell Snape to go in there?" he replied in anguish.

I took his chin in my hand and raised it to look at me. "Did you have any part in this, Mr. Potter?"

"No," he choked out in a sob.

"Mr. Snape wasn't bitten."

"Oh, thank God!" His head dropped into his arms.

I sat back into the sofa cushions. The relief in hearing his words warmed my heart; James could look beyond his friendships.

"So, Remus and Sirius won't go to Azkaban then."